AN: Mad props to the Co-Creator and Ideas Smith for this little story, naynay1963

I haven't felt like my predator self in a long time and it's making me kind of… antsy. The monster side of me that thirsts for blood has needs. They're not human needs but they're still important. I breath in deeply and let myself feel every ounce of the predator inside me. I lose myself in the hunt. I sprint through the trees, imagining that I'm actually flying. Maybe I'm a ghost after all. A poltergeist that moves through the trees without a care for what's air and what's solid matter.

The human thoughts that ground me in the world of warm bloods, of humans kind of recede when I hunt. The human-me is quiet, really just indulging in the taboo nature of what I feel, instinct drawing me to a suitable prey. I—both human and predator—leave civilisation behind. I haven't wanted human blood in twenty five years but I still crave it. So I remove myself from the temptation because it's the safest and best thing I can do. I don't need to repeat the same mistakes I made in New Orleans.

I can smell the wolf pack, Brittany's wolf pack somewhere to the east but I move past them, reminding myself to go home on a path that will keep them downwind from me. If Brittany joins them and I'm still playing predator things could get ugly. The wolves won't be enough to protect her.

I stop in a broad clearing, dropping from a height with enough force to cause snow to puff up around me and blur my vision for a moment. The predator-me giggles in delight though the human-me has me rolling my eyes. Once everything settles I reach out with my senses. I can hear and smell every thing living within several miles. There's shimmers of heat that I know are rabbits and other little furry creatures. There are also deer. More specifically there is a doe, on her own, quietly grazing on something green and crunchy not far from me.

I dig my toes in under the snow and into the dirt, reconnecting with the earth. In my most human moments I've wondered if the connection with the dirt has anything to do with how I was born in the dirt, buried next to my maker as I died. Tonight I just need to kill something. I need to taste fresh and pumping blood so I don't do anything to Brittany that I'll regret. Puck insists I'm coming out with him tonight and I will. But with the way Brittany looked at me earlier today and with how I know my vamp body always reacts to a crowd, I need to be fed. If I'm not then I could just as easily end up on Brittany's doorstep demanding entrance. Explaining in the morning why that happened could be interesting. If Brittany survives.

I shudder. I'm distracted as both predator-me and human-me, causing me to lose track of the doe for a moment. I try not to think about what Brittany would taste like. I concentrate on the warm animal smell of the doe instead. Deer is just that little bit further from human blood but still satisfying which makes it a perfect distraction. I get closer, tense with anticipation. The human-me feels it too as I peer with hunter's eyes through the trees. It must be what a human hunter feels when carrying a gun.

I don't need a gun though. I break through the trees and the deer barely has a chance to startle. Her eyes go wide ad her heart gallops in her chest as she takes two leaping steps into the underbrush. It's too late and I snap her neck so she doesn't even have to feel my teeth sink into the pulsing artery at her throat. The slick, sweet elixir floods over my waiting tongue as her heart thumps four more times; strong as though making up for every beat that won't be happening now she's dead. I ignore the spray of blood that escapes the gash I've made in her neck. I'm only wearing an old crop top and sweats. Blood and dirt don't matter. The doe's slender legs twitch feebly before the last of her blood is drained and my hunger is sated.

I stand, licking my lips and stretch, letting out a noise pretty close to a baby dinosaur as the warm blood heats my usually icy veins. I always seem to underestimate how awesome it is, that feeling. It's a lot like a warm meal, obviously but also like being drunk and high at the same time. It's like falling from something high and feeling the rush of adrenalin that comes from nearly dying. When feeding from a human the feeling is like perfection, like finding your faith so suddenly that all those empty parts of your heart and soul are immediately filled.

Even if the blood in my veins now isn't human I still feel high as a kite and generally blissed out. Nothing that comes from a bag will ever really compare. With blood direct from a pumping heart coursing through me I feel like I could take on the sun; I can definitely take on some skeezy bar.

I leave the deer to the scavengers that are hiding in the dark. They'll smell what remains of the blood and this doe will be reclaimed by the forest. I only borrowed her for those few minutes. That's the best thing about feeding on animals in the wild like this. There's never a waist. If I eat a human in a city her body will be a waisted corpse for far too long, never even allowed to be worm food. Here, now this doe will feed so many living things. She was born to the woods and her body returns to the woods.

Human me can't help the eye roll at all the existential bullshit. This is what happens when monsters get philosophical. I shake my head, wiping the back of my hand across my cheek to try and wipe the blood away. I lick over the back of my hand and can't help the picture of myself as a cat.

Brittany likes cats.

I'm kinda like a big, scary cat.

But I'm being ridiculous and don't have time to be standing around thinking about a girl that I have to stay away from. I sprint into the trees again to distract myself. I'm much more aware of how close the trees are now that I'm not totally lost in the spirit of the predator. I'm a little more concerned about knocking myself out on a tree trunk. That would be way too embarrassing.

I need to move quickly though if I'm going to get home and get this blood off me before Puck shows up at my apartment. He didn't say he was coming but he will. He's taken to getting ready at my place. For some reason he thinks I won't judge him for his bullshit metrosexual hygiene, haircare routine. I totally judge him. He's a bigger girl than I am and—

How the fuck did I get here?

I'm within a hundred paces of the wolves. I did as I'd planned, following a path that kept me upwind of the wolf pack. What I hadn't really planned on was them moving. Now they're right there and the wind has shifted and I can—I can smell Brittany. I sneak through the trees to see her because I'm a masochist. I'm close enough that one of the wolves, the alpha senses that I'm close and she looks up. She whines but doesn't growl. I shift so I can look her in the eyes. She acknowledges me and then I lower my gaze in submission. Her head goes back to resting on her paws and I go back to stalking Brittany.

I can see her fully now. She's sitting among the pack. She's not making notes or even playing with the pups. Her bag is just sitting on the ground a few yards behind her and she's just sitting with her legs crossed and her eyes closed as she rubs her hand over the head of one of the younger wolves. Her hair shines in the light of early evening and I can imagine how sweet her skin smells where it tickles the nape of her neck.

I honestly don't know what kind of stalking I'm doing right now. A light breeze brings her scent to me and she smells incredible(as she always does). She looks beautiful too(as she always does). I can't help but wonder what would happen if I just appeared like I did last time. I know she thinks I'm a bit of a nut case because of the way I'd jumped in between her and the wolves but she still asked me out right?

With that thought I know that I have to leave. I can't do this to myself or to her. She won't survive me. If I'm like a big, scary cat then Brittany is a baby mouse that, whether I mean to or not is gonna get disemboweled. Not cool man. Really not cool. Fuck if I'm gonna let Quinn be right about this too. If I killed her now then I know I'll just go back to Louisiana. The look on Quinn's face would be almost as bad as my killing Brittany.

Okay maybe they don't really compare because the legitimate thought of killing Brittany actually makes me feel sick. It makes my heart clench in a way that is really freakin weird for someone who's heart doesn't actually beat. It's strange. The idea of feeding on her is hot as hell. Her blood would undoubtedly taste as good as she smells. I can practically feel my fangs coming out. It would be so hot that—okay, no that actually is my fangs coming out. Goddamn this girl. I just want to taste her and she's right there. I'm a fucking hunter, I shouldn't be getting emotional about this.

The sky is getting darker, with the moon rising and as the first star comes out Brittany opens her eyes. I move a few steps so I can see her eyes(because, yep still a masochist). She seems sad, deep in thought about something. I wonder if she's thinking about me and I feel that little tremor in my heart again. Her head tilts and her body stills as though she's listening for something. The wolf under her hand shifts as if annoyed that her hand has stopped moving. She smiles down at him and resumes scratching behind his ears. I melt for that smile. She's only more beautiful under the moonlight.

I think she might go back to looking at the stars but instead she looks into the trees. I gasp and her mouth twists in concentration. She shouldn't be able to hear me at this distance but I swear she knows I'm here. I'm hidden in the dark of the trees but when her eyes settle on the dark space between the trees I'd swear she could see me.

She doesn't look scared or even worried, just curious. She opens her mouth to say something but I can't hear it, whatever it might be. If she draws me in she could die.

I turn and run.

{S&B}

I try to not be disappointed when I get to the bar and Santana isn't there. I try and fail. Santana was all I could think about when I went out to say goodnight to Liza's pack. I could swear I'd even sensed her out in the woods. Maybe it was just some remnant of her being there last month. Although, the idea that any feel of someone can linger that long is a little strange.

Kurt must see my disappointed look because he gives me a commiserating smile before going to hug Sugar. I trail up behind them slowly because I've learned something about their friendship and that's that I shouldn't be anywhere in the vicinity when they go through their subtle(not subtle) compliments(criticisms) of each other's outfits. No doubt, since Kurt dressed me, I'll be getting the same analysis from Sugar. In theory it should be fine because I know I look hot. Knowing that Santana is going to be here, I couldn't be anything less. But there are so many additional factors that I apparently don't understand. The socio-economic impacts of lace versus silk and the relevant foregrounded blah blah blahs that I really don't give a shit about must be discussed. Apparently.

I see Sugar give my outfit the once over. I'd assume she was into girls looking at me like that but she really is just that into fashion. I tune out as soon as I hear Kurt say the name of the designer. If I hear any more I'm just likely to lose a piece of information from my brain that might be useful to me. You know how there's only so much space for so much stuff. So when I was a cheerleader then the cheers and the moves for a routine took up a lot of space. Now I'm an actual freakin scientist I need things like the lower classifications of Canis Lupus in my head, not useless information about gossamer versus nylon.

I look around the bar, seeing the usual people you'd expect although fewer than I might have hoped for. I've only been here once since that first time and now Sugar's taken over ownership of the bar I'd expected some more changes.

One thing in particular is conspicuously unchanged. "I thought you were switching in black lights?" I interrupt a fashion rant mid word but I can't bring myself to care.

"What?" Sugar asks, only half as put out as Kurt seems to be.

"You said all the ugly people were giving you hives so you were going to put in black lights so you could spot attractive people by their white teeth and clean—"

"Right, right. After nine the house lights go down. I wanted it all the time but no body ever listens to me," she pouts like her father didn't immediately purchase this bar on her whim.

I'm about to wander over to the DJ to see his playlist when something strikes me. "Did you say the lights will change at nine?"

Sugar nods.

"So what the hell time is it?" I turn on Kurt who'd insisted that it was at least ten and no I didn't need to check my phone because he knows what time it is silly girl.

Kurt looks alarmed like I might hit him.

"Why are we here so early?" I'm not angry per se just really confused.

Kurt and Sugar share a glance. Kurt answers. "Well, I might have relayed to Sugar your hesitance to reunite with Santana after what happened this afternoon and she thought that maybe it could be a good idea if we arrived early so we could maybe…" he trails off as if he doesn't want to tell me the reasons behind his sneakiness.

Sugar says it for him. "We wanna get you drunk," she says in her special, blunt Sugar way.

{S&B}

I shouldn't miss an inanimate object but I do. The blanket that trapped Brittany's scent in it's brown fluff would be really comforting right now. In the time I kept it that blanket became a substitute for Brittany. Obviously. I'm such a transparent and a generally useless person right now. It's like I've been neutered and I suddenly sympathise with a German Shepherd. You know the ones that get knackered and their voice boxes removed because they're too aggressive. So I'm a knackered, emotional, blanket stroking wreck basically. Awesome.

Although, not the blanket part anymore since I stupidly gave it back. I had reasons for giving it back; for one because it didn't smell like her anymore; for another… actually no, I think that's all there was. It took two weeks for the Brittany smell to dissipate. That didn't stop me from curling up in a ball and just holding Gus(yeah, I named the blanket) against my face at night. Sickening right? What kind of self respecting vampire am I? I honestly don't know anymore. All it took was one small attempted act of kindness as wielded by a gorgeous blonde and I'm done.

I can't have her blood, I can't even be around her without putting her life in danger, so the smell of her that clung to that blanket was as good as I could get. Feeding on that deer tonight took the edge off but seeing her again so soon after makes me miss the damn blanket.

I take a swig from the bottle of Jack I've been cradling. My days as a worthy creature of the night are over. Then again, they were over the day Brittany was born. I just hadn't known it yet.

"Hey, Lopez." Puck throws a balled up pair of socks at me. "Where you at bro?"

"Don't call me bro Puck," I sigh, not even able to be angry at him for his many sins. I've been staring into space and getting my pre-drink on while he gets ready to go out.

"Well, I'm still your lezbro—"

"I broke your finger."

"Thanks for the reminder. That and calling you bro is what's gonna keep me from forgetting that no matter how fine you are I've got to keep my hands off."

"Fine, okay. Are you ready to go yet?"

"Hey, hey now. You can't rush perfection."

I roll my eyes because Puck has officially taken twice as long to get ready as I did. For me it's jeans, singlet, and a jacket with some artfully mussed up hair and I'm done. Puck's been tweaking his ridiculous mohawk for half an hour.

"I thought you'd already boned Sugar."

"Well yeah, but you know. I think she could become a regular bone."

"Also known as a girlfriend."

"If you wanna get technical."

I throw the bundled socks back at his head and go back to thinking about Brittany. I wonder what she's doing tonight and if she'll just stay with the wolves. I can imagine her just looking at the stars and tracing out patterns and pictures. All I really want is to be there with her.

Puck finally pulls on his jacket and I can't help but sigh because I can never go stargazing with Brittany. Or ever really be alone with her again. So it's another night of shots and resisting a crowd of strangers for me. I leave the bottle of Jack along with any hope for a great night behind in the apartment.

{S&B}

I'm tipsy. No drunk. Definitely drunk. I don't know what I've been drinking but it was fun. Is fun.

I haven't danced like this in…too long. I love my wolves. I really do but that dancing with wolves thing is bullshit and Kevin Costner is a lying douche. Running with wolves is amazing, thrilling even but it isn't this. This is dancing.

The bass is loud. The best thing about Sugar taking over is that she loves the bass almost as much as I do and she upgraded the sound system accordingly. The sound could only be sitting at around a hundred twenty decibels. It could be six thousand or sixty. I don't care so long as that bass keeps rumbling cause, the rhythm is just right there, you know. It's right in my chest and competing with the rhythm of my heart. Speeding it up and slowing it down. I'm a slave to the music and a slave to that gorgeous fucking bass.

I feel euphoria when I dance all the time. You don't train in ballet, hip hop and contemporary dance every day for twelve years because you don't like to dance. The bass drives me forward, surges though my body, burns my blood. It drives my hips, my arms above my head as I find somebody, any body to move against. The heat of the people moving on the dance floor mixes with the heat coursing through and out from my chest as the bass seeps into my bones and consumes my soul.

I am the music, I am the bass and this song fucking rocks.

The bass charges me like the crank on a freaking windup toy and I'm ready to blow Santana's mind. Forget that wild creature that growled at a pack of wolves or purred into my neck. Forget the adorable freak that ran bare foot through the snow or developed some kind of emotional dependance on a giraffe print blanket. Tonight Santana is my goddess and this dancer will worship her in the language she knows best.

{S&B}

I have to admit that Puck's girl might actually know what she's doing. The minute I walk into the bar I could be in any city in the world. The lights are low but with backlights casting a cool glow over the space. There's the occasional colour spot light that flashes over the shifting mass of bodies and the DJ seems to have a knack for picking the right spot of a song to flash the strobe.

Puck performs his best swagger and I follow in his wake, not looking at anybody before i get to the bar. Everyone can just get the fuck out of my way for all I care. I'm only interested in one person and she's not here. Brittany probably has some smart-girl thing to do. I'm not a smart girl and I can handle that. I have my own gifts, my own curses and I can make them work for me. The whole creature of the night thing? It can work for me. I wonder if I can even have sex tonight without killing the chick. Or without her getting clingy. That's the worst.

I miss Brittany.

I miss Gus. That fluffy, giraffe blanket is my best friend right now.

Scratch that. Fireball is my best friend right now. Puck hands over the Chuck Norris round house kick to the face and I take it then another, throwing them back in a heartbeat. Puck's heartbeat. Don't judge. It's free. it's a shot and it's already mixing with the Jack to get me drunk. Maybe even drunk enough to forget about—

"Brittany's here," Puck says the words so casually like they aren't completely earth shattering for me.

I spin on the spot like a complete, gumby loser. I can't really pick anyone easily out of the crowd. I'm pretty sure the blacklight plays even greater havoc on my vamp eyes than the warm bloods. I can't pick out any blonde from the rest of the crowd.

What I can pick out is a dancer. One woman that moves like she is the music. It's like she's out on that dance floor just to draw me in and turn me on like... Like, fuck if I know what to do with my body right now.

I gulp a lump in my throat, my mouth watering when I realise that this is the girl that Puck is pointing out. I recognise that body, the smooth movements of the hips and the delicate, perfect sweep of blonde hair over her neck.

Brittany.

She's liquid sex and I need to have her. Her blonde hair, her eyes and skin are obscured by the blacklight but I still want her. I want her body because she is fucking hot. I don't have to have her blood though. I'm looking at her and I don't need to rip her throat out. The bloodlust is there but it's a little less bloody than usual.

God bless Sugar Motta and her damn blacklights.

Puck hands me another two shots and I throw both of them back. I don't know if I can be this close to Brittany when she's moving like that. Not with my full sensibilities. I need the alcohol to dull my sense of smell and taste at least. I bet Brittany's neck tastes great.

{S&B}

I dance through the crowd, ignoring the male bodies trying to grind up with me. They're not as soft or lithe or delicate as I want and I'm in no mood to humour them. They are willing though and they're moving to the beat so I move between them and around them. They're hands still wander but mostly stay off the goods. Apparently they're mothers raised them right. I wonder idly if they're local or if maybe they work with Santana out at the rig. I hope they work with Santana so then I can imagine that I'm closer to her. I can imagine the hands that occasionally brush against me tonight are actually hers.

I sway in my space between the warm bodies, shifting and twirling in time with the music. The guys, the girls, all of them are just a background. It's like I can feel the beat and the light coalescing to caress my skin and shift my body. I let my hair move around my face as my eyes close and my arms go up over my head. The music pulses and my heart jumps.

I feel like I could stay here forever. I could stay in this place of rhythm and body-heat and sex. Every club has that same atmosphere. I can always feel it. The air that fills a space where so many people are moving and gyrating against each other. The way so many people are eager to take someone home, to claim them and their bodies, it's like a smell and a sound and a feeling all at the same time. The mating dance; it's practically a science. It's a science that I can understand. When Santana gets here I'll show it to her.

She's as close to animal as any person I've ever met. Animals are my favourite people after all and now here's Santana all people shaped and sexyand as close to animal as I can be when I'm with my wolves... She's perfect.

If only she would be here already. Every time I thought she might finally be here I've opened my eyes and looked around for some sign of her. I've stopped looking because I just don't think I can take any more disappointment. I want her. I want to see her and feel her arms around me.

I can practically feel her now as I move between the hot male bodies that seem to have surrounded me. I think about breaking away from the unwanted bodies all together but then the bare skin of my back brushes against a softer fabric than before. It feels good, cool against my hot skin so I don't hesitate to move back into that person again. Her hands shift around my hips and I can feel her nuzzling into my hair. Nuzzling and sniffing like Santana.

I stop moving and the hands at my waist grip sharply over my top. I take in a deep breath and trace my own fingertips over the girl's hands. I can smell her and as I lean back i can feel the distinctly feminine curves of Santana's body against me. I can feel my heart beating rapidly in my chest. A new, fast paced song starts up as if to match my new rhythm.

I still can't move and Santana's hands start to move over me as she continues nuzzling into my hair. One of her hands moves further over my hips to grip my body tighter against her own. I gasp as her left hand moves up my side and over my bare shoulder to sweep my hair away from my neck. I can feel her press her nose against the skin of my shoulder. I'm so much taller in these heals she can't quite reach my neck. My own left hand balls into a fist as hers sweeps over my clavicle and her lips press over my spine. My whole body shudders at the contact and a strong pulse of arousal shoots through me. My hips move of their own accord and when Santana moves with me I smile.

{S&B}

I'm surrounded by human heat and sweat and Brittany. The alcohol I've consumed isn't enough to make her invisible to my senses but enough to stop me being consumed by her. I watched her from the bar for long enough to see that she wasn't dancing with anyone. No matter how one of the warm bloods might pull into her, or move into her rhythm she just turned and danced away. An instrument of the music needed no accompaniment. Except me. Definitely me. It took all of about eight seconds for me to realise that I was the one she was waiting for. Knowing that it's the alcohol giving me a false confidence and actually caring are two very different things.

She freezes when I come up behind her but melts into my arms once she knows(somehow) that it's me. I want her to move in that same liquid way again. I need her to move but I don't want her to move at all. I grip her hips and shamelessly pull her ass against me. I wish I could just grind against her but maybe that can happen later. For now I just feel her warm body against mine and breathe in the addictive scent of Brittany. I push her hair aside and glory in the naked expanse of her back. Whoever put Brittany in this top should be canonised into sainthood.

I want to worship her body. I want to lick and taste every inch of her skin. I settle for kissing her spine and pull away, licking at my lips to taste the small trace of her. I feel like a junky as the instant hunger and cravings take over me. Her hips shift and I move with her, unwilling to allow any distance to come between us. This is dangerous but I'm in control. The alcohol helps, the blacklight helps and not facing her helps.

We move together as one and the rest of the crowd disappears. I may have three hundred years of practice on Brittany but somehow she not only keeps up with me but actually surpasses my ability. Every time I move, she moves with me. I run my fingertips over her arms and down her back. I want to kiss her again but I fight to keep my control.

A remix of that Britney and Madonna song comes on and I can practically feel her vibrating with excitement. This is obviously her jam and it's all I can do to hold on for the ride. She doesn't turn into me for any more than I can handle as she practically uses my body as a prop to her dancing. She dips down in front of me and I almost lose it when she bends and slides her way back up my body, her ass grinding against me all the way. She turns her head when she's standing straight again and I know that she's watching me, waiting for a reaction. All I can give her is the hands on her hips and my body moving in rhythm against hers.

As the DJ transitions into the next, slower song I can feel Brittany shifting restlessly. I know what she wants but I can't look into her eyes. If the DJ hits the strobe at the wrong moment I could see the blue and I'll be done. I make the preemptive move and Brittany follows my lightest touch like she can read my mind. As my left hand moves over her hip and the other puts the lightest pressure on her back, Brittany turns. I move away just enough to turn my back to her and our position is reversed.

Brittany doesn't hesitate to pull my back just as tightly to her front with an arm stretching over my waist, her hand gripping against my hip. I gulp, closing my eyes and leaning my head back against her shoulder as she guides our hips into what could only be described as a magic, thrusting sex dance. The DJ seems to be working purposely against my resolve as song after song builds in intensity until the bass is thrumming repeatedly through the amps that point into the crowd.

We're both sweating in the heat and the experience of smelling both of our scents mixing together is enough to leave me a flustered, aroused mess on the floor. I grip onto Brittany's thigh and know instantly that it's a terribly idea as I feel her strong muscles flexing under my hand. God, this girl is fit. And she's here, she wants me and I want her and I have to—I have to—

"Okay bitches," Sugar's amplified, nasal voice pierces through my Brittany induced sex haze. "The ugly and insecure suits that run this town shut us down in t-minus ten minutes." The music keeps thumping through her words but she's still clear enough. "So find your sheets partner and get the fuck out before the lights go white. You might not like what you find otherwise." She leaves the mike on long enough to laugh at her own joke.

I roll my eyes before realising exactly what she just said. The house lights will be back on and I'll be able to see Brittany properly. I can't let that happen.

I'm about to bolt but Brittany grabs both my arms like she really can read my mind.

"Wait, don't go," she whispers into my ear.

I feel my shoulders relax against my will. "I have to," I say honestly.

She sighs and moves her body around mine. I feel her breasts brush over my arm and her hips bump past my side; she is that close to me. She looks into my eyes and I gasp.

"I want to see you again." Her eyes are clear and blue and I get lost in them. "Go out with me. Please," she adds with a hopeful smile.

I find myself nodding. Fuck.

Brittany grins and then her hand moves over my hip and dangerously close to my crotch on the way to my thigh. I can't even protest before she has my phone out of my jeans pocket. I snap out of my latest haze when she looks down to unlock my phone, somehow guessing the pattern of numbers that make up my password. She smirks at me with a challenge I can't meet. She taps out what must be her number than hits the call button so my number will come up on her phone(wherever that might be).

She puts my phone back in my pocket. "I really want to kiss you," she says like it's just an obvious truth. "But I don't want to scare you off."

I gulp and shake my head reflexively. Brittany sighs because she knows that I can't kiss her. Not yet.

Not yet? I'm in so much trouble.

Brittany grasps my hand lightly. I realise that every one of her touches is gentle and caring. She squeezes my hand and makes her way off the dance floor. I watch her ass as she walks and Brittany glances over her shoulder like she knows that's exactly what I'm doing. If it was possible for me to blush I would. Instead I find Puck, half passed out against the bar and drag him out into the cold with me, both our jackets around his shoulders.

I unlock my door, deposit Puck on my sofa and collapse on my own bed. Brittany is on my mind as she always is. My phone buzzes and I pull it out to see a number I don't recognise with a text message.

'Remember how you just agreed to go watch sparkly disco ball vampires with me? I'll catch you soon.'

I smile at the disco ball vampires comment and despite every ounce of self interest telling me not to I tap out a reply.

'Not if I catch you first.' It's honest and oddly creepy but with the alcohol still in my system I find it hilarious.

I fall asleep with a smile on my face because I'm pretty sure I just agreed to go on a date with Brittany Pierce.