"Okay," Tina said, her mouth in a tight line. "Tell me everything." She was pissed off, and normally that would freak Artie out a ton, but his head was still spinning from fighting off a demon in the form of his ditziest friend, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to form a coherent thought after the strain of the exorcism combined with having to stop Brittany from strangling his Spanish teacher. Now, he and Tina were sitting in the auditorium; he didn't want to have to explain it all to the rest of the club – Sue could do it in much fewer words, and without the emotional baggage – but Tina was special and he was going to treat her as such.

"Everything?" he echoed.

"Everything," she repeated, pronouncing each syllable like its own word.

He shifted in his chair, and noticed that Tina flinched reflexively when he lifted his leg and rested his ankle on his other knee without needing to use his hands. He couldn't blame her, really. After all, how often does one discover that their handicapable friend was actually just plain capable?

"I don't really know where to start," he said, scratching at his ear.

"Start with the legs," Tina said flatly. "Have you ever needed a wheelchair?"

Artie winced. "…No."

"God, and you got so mad at me for lying to you about my stutter?" Tina asked incredulously. "Seriously, Artie?"

Artie held up his hands in a hasty attempt to placate his girlfriend. She was goth, and as a result always had several chains and good-sized sharp safety pins at her disposal. "I can explain that," he said quickly. "I was really just mad at you for lying to me; I didn't really care what it was about, I just sorta said the first thing that popped into my head. And I'm really sorry about that. But…I also kinda have a thing for girls with stutters…" At his last sentence, admitted so shyly, his cheeks flushed and he jiggled his leg nervously.

Tina nearly laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of his explanation. "Okay, I'm just going to ignore how strange that last bit sounded and ask you this: why the HELL would you cover up the fact that you can walk?"

Artie jumped back, startled by her suddenly raised voice. Having a goth girl who you knew for a fact could kill you if she wanted to (and in this circumstance, she probably did) shout in your face was not something that was soothing. "It was a decoy," he eventually said.

"Decoy for what?"

"It was to make me seem less threatening," Artie replied hesitantly. "My family moved here because my dad was assigned to watch the area, and, being his kid, I was subsequently assigned to watch the school. I'm really sorry, Tee, I would've told you if I—"

"For. What."

Artie rubbed the back of his neck. "This is gonna sound weird."

"Artie, I just watched you exorcise a cheerleader. So for fuck's sake, spit it out already."

He flinched a little at her use of language – that was more Puck's style – but answered anyways. "We're trying to find the gate to Hell."

"…I'm sorry?"

"See? I told you—"

"Just explain it, okay?"

Artie sighed, shifting again. "Okay, uh… my dad works for this big group of people who are stationed all around the world, kind of like a big underground corporation for purging the world of evil, I guess. Anyways, their job is to hunt down demons and ghouls and stuff like that, and send them back to Hell. My dad, though, is one of their top men, and he was told to search for the actual Gate so that they could hopefully block it for good."

Tina was staring at him like he was Patches, the barking homeless man that once chased Artie on all fours because he didn't like people on wheels.

"I told you—" he started again.

"Keep talking."

"Okay, fine. My dad's been tracking these things for years, and he's finally narrowed it down. It's somewhere near the Great Lakes because the massive amounts of water absorb all the energy that the Gate and its traffic emits, so it's disguised from the human world. For the most part, anyway."

"You're telling me that the Gate to Hell is in Michigan?"

"Well, Michigan or Ohio, we're not really sure yet," he said. "I know, I was surprised too. I mean, Los Angeles seems way more likely, doesn't it? We thought it was in Kentucky for a while, but—"

"Artie."

He shook his head. "Right, sorry. Off topic."

"But why would you fake being in a wheelchair? Isn't that a little extreme?" Tina asked. "I mean, you could have been non-threatening just by being like a nerd or something."

He laughed lightly. "Actually, the wheelchair was Coach Sylvester's idea. She's the one responsible for protecting the area when my dad's off looking for the Gate, a sort of second-in-command, and when she heard that we were moving here, she convinced the board that me being in a wheelchair would both make me seem non-threatening and provide an excuse for my superhuman upper body strength." He gave a quirky smile, but Tina was not amused. "Honestly, Tee, did you never notice that my legs haven't atrophied? I mean, after eight years in a wheelchair, most people's legs would have shrunk to pretty much skin and bone, but mine still look normal."

"It…occurred to me," she replied. "But I just shrugged it off because you mentioned a bunch of times that your weekly physical therapy sessions were really rigorous."

"I might have overplayed that card a bit…" Artie admitted.

"So who else is in on it?"

"What?"

"You know," Tina said. "Who else knows about this whole thing?"

"Oh. Just Brad."

"The piano guy? Tinkles?" Tina looked so shocked that Artie had to work to suppress a laugh.

"Yeah," he said. "He's my combat trainer. You know he's got a black belt in karate?"

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. How do you think he can just pop up places without you noticing he's there?"

"I think that has more to do with ninja skills, not karate," Tina stated doubtfully.

Artie laughed. "You are such a nerd."

"Look who's talking, Mr. Supernatural," she retorted.

"Hey, I didn't choose my career path," he defended himself, grinning like an idiot in relief that Tina was taking surprisingly well. "Also, my job is nothing like Supernatural."

"Really? Your dad's a hunter, so you are too, charged with banishing the Devil's children back to Hell. How is that not like Supernatural?"

"I see your point."

A/N: I might continue this, I might not. Depending on if my muse continues to steal my coffee while I'm not looking. We'll see. Review! And read my other Glee stories, of course :)