A prompt that wouldn't get out of my head.

I don't own any of this other than the storyline. And maybe a few characters.

Santana hunched over the sink as her wings folded back beneath her skin. There wasn't any pain, just discomfort. She'd gotten used to the way her spine bent back in ways that weren't humanly possible, and she was accustomed to the tearing of her skin and the way it stitched itself back together once everything was in place.

The pain was nothing more than a dull ache in the back of her mind, and when her spine snapped back into alignment, she stretched to get rid of the extra tension.

"Feel better?"

Santana turned around to face her best friend. Though the phrase is trivial, Santana could not deny what was indubitably an unspoken fact. Quinn was her closest confidant, her most trustworthy ally, and despite their species being as volatile for one another as gasoline to flames, they somehow make it work. When they first met, Quinn was nothing more than a disgruntled Fallen and just as annoying as the other exiled angels, but once she removed the holier-than-thou stick from her ass, Santana soon learned to enjoy her presence.

Santana removed the gloves she often wore at school and grabbed the bloodied paper towels into one hand. Flames danced across her fingertips, and as the paper burned, she walked to the nearest stall and dumped the ashes into the toilet. Once the water washed away the evidence, Santana replaced her gloves, and they melded to her palms, changing colors to match her skin.

When she was confident she wouldn't accidentally burn someone, she looked at Quinn and said, "Better is not the word I would use. This is the fourth time today my wings have sprouted without prompting, and I am unsure as to what it could mean. Maybe it is a warning. Maybe your father is in one of his moods again."

"He isn't my father," Quinn growled. "And stop talking like that. You're supposed to be fitting in. When you talk like that you sound as ancient as you look."

Santana ignored the end of her statement and said, "I know Fallen have trouble remembering things before their exile, but surely you recall that you and I met long before your father decided you were not worth the trouble and kicked you from the Heavens? You are just as old, if not a little younger than I am. And the only reason I remember all of it is because you nearly took my head off due to some ridiculous tradition you and your kin feel necessary to signify an angel's transition into adulthood."

"That creature sitting on the throne is not my father," Quinn hissed. "A true father would not have cast his firstborn from the Heavens simply because it was not the son he so desperately desired. Also, I apologized for that already. The more you bring it up, the more I wish I hadn't spared your life."

Santana sighed and grabbed her books from Quinn. "You keep saying that as if you had a choice. Killing me would have done you more harm than good. I might be an exile like you, but unlike you, my exile was not in favor of the people I serve. Should you have drawn even the smallest amount of blood, you would have brought war to your doorstep that I doubt Daddy Dearest would have appreciated. Consider our friendship your saving grace," she said.

Quinn snorted and said, "Your humbleness always manages to astound me, Princess."

"Do not-

"Call you that?" Quinn finished. She smiled and added, "Not a chance."

Santana rolled her eyes before she unlocked the bathroom door and removed the charm placed around them. Almost immediately, the noise from the school filtered through the walls and Santana adjusted the books in her arm. She stood up straighter, forced a look of indifference on her face, and just like that, Santana Lopez was walking out of the bathroom with her co-captain Quinn Fabray matching her stride.

The rest of the students scattered to avoid being in their direct path, but there were a few who remained where they stood. The muscles in Santana's back twitched again, and she pumped magic into keeping her wings at bay. Her teeth began to ache, and it took every ounce of willpower not to shift in the middle of the hallway. She looked around, her eyes searching for the cause when she caught a whiff of something that made her recent troubles with her body make a lot more sense. She hadn't realized she was shaking until Quinn grabbed her by the arm and squeezed.

"You look like you're about to implode. What the hell is wrong with you?" Quinn asked in a low voice.

"Do you remember when I told you my people are only half of a whole?" At Quinn's nod, Santana continued, "Well, let me say I have discovered why my wings refuse to stay in place."

"Would you like to share with the class?"

"You will see soon enough," Santana murmured.

She closed her eyes and let her magic take over. Flashing back to when she first arrived in Lima, first came to her mother's house, Santana remembered settling into her new home and her mother making dinner. Roast beef, mashed potatoes, and spinach for the main course with a slice of apple pie and ice cream for dessert. It was an odd and foreign collection of foods, but Santana couldn't forget the smell even if she wanted to. The combination of the cinnamon, the vanilla, the apples, the crust and the honey her mother mixed together warmed her entire being whenever she thought about it.

And that was what she smelled in the middle of a high school hallway: her mother's apple pie.

It was instinctual, searching for the source of the beautiful scent, and when she opened her eyes, she found the girl responsible. Had it not been for Quinn pinching Santana on the hip, she would have shifted in front of the entire school and broke the vow she made to her mother. The girl turned around as if she could sense Santana nearby, and their eyes met. Blue eyes widened in disbelief, and Santana's blood turned to ice.

"Rachel?" Santana whispered.

Quinn gasped, and even across the hall and beyond hearing range, Santana could hear the breathless murmur of her name leave Rachel's lips, and suddenly she couldn't breathe. Santana quickly spun on her heel, Quinn right behind her, and they weaved their way through the crowds, past the front office, and out the front door towards the parking lot. Santana unlocked her car, tossed her bag into the backseat, and once Quinn settled in the passenger's seat, Santana backed out of her spot and drove off the lot.

It wasn't until they were on the opposite side of town, near the town lines, did Quinn finally speak.

"That was the Rachel, wasn't it?" she asked.

"Yes."

"The same Rachel that-" Quinn stopped and clamped her mouth shut when Santana punched the dashboard.

Santana drove the car onto the side of the road and pushed open her door and exited the vehicle. She threw her head back and yelled. She continued to scream until her throat was raw and then she dropped to her knees. Santana heard Quinn as she walked over and sat on the ground beside her. In a rare display of intimacy, Santana leaned into Quinn and sighed.

"Out of all the people in the four realms, out of all the beings they could have bonded me with, they bond me with her. The same girl I saved from execution at my father's hand because he believed her people were going to produce a new generation of warriors whose sole purpose in life was to murder and eliminate any demon they happen upon. The same girl I personally delivered to this realm in hopes that she would find a good family and that I would never see her again. The same girl that cost me everything."

Quinn said nothing, and the two of them sat on the side of the road until the sun dipped beneath the horizon. When night fell, and Santana's phone started to ring, she hauled them both to their feet and saw that it was nearly nine p.m.

"What are you going to do?" Quinn asked.

Santana glanced up at the stars and took a deep breath before she said, "I am going to go home and go to sleep. Tomorrow will still come whether I have the answers or not, and I have a feeling Rachel is just as confused as I am."