Three weeks. It was difficult to believe it had already been that long since Santana had stumbled upon her and ultimately offered up her home as a safe haven, but it had been twenty days since. So not a full three weeks, but nearly that amount of time, which was a constant surprise given that she hadn't expected to live past that fateful night. So ultimately, in the grand scheme of things, she admittedly really shouldn't have had much to complain about lately, but there was always something. Thankfully, nothing major tended to linger in her mind for very long; thinking about her lost dreams was a pain too difficult to ponder about for too long, and Rachel had done well in ensuring she had all the distractions she needed.

In truth, she was simply feeling cooped up and stir crazy for the most part. Well, add on a healthy dose of loneliness, and that would be more accurate, but she had been getting restless lately. Santana had been getting tremendously busy with practices and cheer meets lately, as well as exams, so they hadn't enjoyed much quality time together across the past week and a half. Thankfully, winter break was approaching, but it still was sad that Santana was getting so stressed over everything, and that her presence hadn't been of any help; Rachel knew the girl still wanted to push for more research and more training, but she didn't mind not having to ingest much blood lately. It was easier on her mind and morals, even if it left her a little less energetic. Okay, a lot less energetic…but it's not like I can go anywhere outside of the house, and Santana's been really busy lately…so no real need for energy.

Blood, she found, did make her feel better physically in a number of ways, though feeling warm was probably the best one. After feeling cold for so long, it was incredibly nice to take the chill off, and when Santana had grazed her later in one training session and noticed her temperature difference, her host and newest friend was quick to finish the session off early so they could just enjoy the warmth on the couch together. Santana had said something about testing whether she could help warm Rachel up if she had some extra blood in her, which Rachel was totally for given her love of affection and the finding that Santana's body heat could indeed warm her up further, if just a tiny bit. It almost made her want to take in more blood on a regular basis. Almost.

There had been other findings too across their research, though most were curious, disheartening, or kind of scary. They had both agreed to figure out her limitations, her abilities, her weaknesses, among other things, but it became clear pretty early on that Santana didn't have much of a heart for it, especially if it involved pain. Having visitation privileges revoked, for example, was both terrifying and terribly painful; her body very much felt like it was slowly erupting from the inside, as if every vein and artery in her body were dormant volcanoes cracking open. Rachel had barely noticed the blood seeping from her mouth, nose, ears and other orifices until she'd heard Santana yelling frantically that she was given permission again, her friend tenderly wiping the tears of blood that had seeped from her eyes. That had not been a fun clean up, and she'd spent most of the rest of the night huddled up with Santana, watching comedy movies in hopes of helping her somewhat traumatized friend cope. It wasn't as if Rachel hadn't been entirely disheartened and upset about the reaction, it was just that she knew it was her reality going forward. There wasn't any escaping it, so she'd have to deal with it, and as Santana was her staunch support system, she'd help her friend cope as well as possible.

Which ended up being more difficult than she'd initially imagined. Less than three weeks in, and the memory of Santana Lopez, bad ass HBIC full of snark, wit, and unshakeable mental fortitude was a distant one. Not that she wasn't aware that those qualities still existed, it was just difficult to recognize them as key components of her personality when the girl would get home from school and worry herself over what experiment Rachel had managed to pull in her absence. With the sun setting so early, she often had a while to tinker around before Santana got home from cheer practice, and because the cheerleader often shied away from some of the more potentially painful research questions they had prepared, Rachel often took the initiative. Which usually aggravated Santana to no end.

And so she'd endured about twenty five seconds of direct sunlight on her arm, which had been fairly scorched and caused enough damage for her to require pain medication for the second time since the initial damage on the night she'd been housed; the first being when she was denied visitation, of course. Other trials hadn't been so horrible, though; garlic simply smelled absolutely awful, and being too close to too much actually had her feeling nauseous and dry heaving. So that was registered as a threat to her if she'd recently ingested blood, but otherwise simply an allergy or a really terrible nuisance. Rachel could cross running water, which she knew from before Santana housed her just like she knew that her reflection was blurred and out of focus, and that she could remain awake during daylight hours for roughly an hour and forty minutes before feeling the pull of sleep, and could wake within a similar time span from sundown. Rachel was pretty certain that she could remain awake for longer if she tried, but felt that knowing natural, generic data was more important. Such as breathing; she hadn't told Santana how she'd tested it, despite the other girl's concerns, but she learned that she simply couldn't be asphyxiated or drowned. Rachel could breathe, but she found that if she focused, she wouldn't ever reach that old familiar breaking point where her body demanded oxygen. Simply, she just ran out. It was yet another disheartening finding.

Another, while cliché and expected, also had a similar effect, when Santana exposed her to a silver Star of David. At a distance, it only caused a sense of unease, but on contact, it burned. Not as badly as sunlight, but it burned, and left a mark that took a while to disappear. The Christian cross did as well, to a lesser degree, but no other symbols had any effect; Rachel hypothesized that it had to do with her soul's prior beliefs. Santana hypothesized that it was bullshit, but was clearly thankful that not ALL religious symbols had that impact on her. It all seemed a bit backward that she could wield stakes of various types of wood, each only causing pain as the tip touched the skin over her heart. Or, at least, the general area around it.

Training with Santana had also revealed a little aside from the knowledge that the cheerleader was certainly a more technically capable combatant than she was. Upon drinking blood, Rachel would sometimes react faster than she ever thought she could, move faster, hit harder. She still almost always lost, and she knew that Santana was still nervous about encountering another vampire due to Rachel admittedly being quite underpowered due to her lack of blood intake, but the cheerleader never brought it up. For that, Rachel was thankful. It was hard enough keeping down the blood Santana gave her every so often; drinking more had her queasy just thinking about it.

Rachel almost reached out to grab one of the gummi worms that Santana had seemed to have bought by the truckload, but decided that she didn't really need it. They served a much better purpose when she was feeling decidedly less than human, when she was in pain, or sad, whereas currently she was just a little nauseous. So she instead focused back on the book she'd been reading and curled up in her corner of the basement couch again; Santana had said she wanted to do some cleaning and organizing upstairs, something Rachel felt was desperately needed considering the girl's room looked like a bombshell went off in there. And I know she'd just get fussy if I tried to help her organize, so I'll wait patiently…

It was just shortly after ten when she heard slightly slower, heavier footsteps upstairs, ones that soon made a path down into the basement where she was waiting. Rachel offered Santana a curious smile, wondering exactly what the girl was lugging downstairs in a large taped up box; the last time the cheerleader hauled something heavy downstairs, it was research material, so her interest was piqued. Combine that with the giddy grin on the girl's face, and Rachel knew SOMETHING was up.

So she watched intently as Santana placed the moderately sized box down and pulled something out of it, using her body to shield it from Rachel's gaze. After about fifteen or so extra seconds of rummaging, the cheerleader stepped away, causing the diva's eyes to widen. With her mind racing and full of memories, she nearly let the microphone tossed her way hit her in the face, only barely managing to catch the thing as she dazedly stood up and walked closer. "What are you doing?" she asked, still not entirely sure she was in some dream, or that she was mentally prepared for something like this.

Santana bit her lip and did this weirdly cute little bouncing motion on the balls of her feet out of apparent excitement, her eyes wide and dark and really exuberant. It wasn't a look she would have expected on anyone aside from Brittany, but she supposed that perhaps after so many years around each other, the blonde must have rubbed off on Santana. "I've got all weekend to study, and you've been kind of down lately, so I figured you'd be up for a bit of music therapy."

It was an entirely pleasant gesture, though the thought of singing had her nervous; it was an act that once brought her joy, an act that she used to express herself honestly and openly for her whole life, one that had been tied directly to her dreams. "Santana, you really shouldn't have gone through the effort." She noted with a smile, hoping to let the girl down easy.

Santana, however, wasn't having it, taking the time to turn the karaoke machine on, and then connect it to her display. "You love to sing…I know that hasn't gone away. I mean…you're you."

"I loved it when I knew I'd get to Broadway." She blurted out, internally cursing herself at her lack of filter when she most desperately needed it. As soon as she'd mentioned the 'B-word', Santana was like a shark in blood-infested waters.

Which looked a lot different from McKinley HBIC Santana, because while the girl lacked the fiery demonic glare that terrified the masses, she had a very different yet very effective approach. The weary sigh came first, Rachel knew, and she'd gotten better at not reacting to it, but the closer Santana got to her with that wounded expression on her face, the more she knew that the girl had her number. And when two tanned hands were gently rested on her shoulders, and those deep brown eyes seemed that much bigger and caused her to feel a newly familiar tingle in her gut, she knew she'd eventually give in. "Your life isn't over yet, mariposa. You can still do so much, you can still kick ass on a stage somewhere. Fuck the haters." Santana stated softly and confidently, her eyes urging Rachel to accept her words as fact, something she just had a hard time doing.

"Santana, I'd like to believe…" She started wearily, hoping to not disappoint her friend, but her words just couldn't form once Santana's hands slid up to cup her face. It was pretty much impossible to do anything but wonder whether her breath would have been utterly stolen from the gesture had she been fully human still, because she did indeed find herself in need of taking in air in order to speak further.

"Then believe. Because I believe, Berry." Santana whispered firmly, her forehead lightly resting against Rachel's and that was it. Her eyes shifted to focus on the karaoke machine, and she couldn't help but admit that it was a rather alluring option, even with the knowledge that she might not be able to sing on a stage again. It certainly didn't hurt that she'd never had a chance to duet with Santana, either, and she now had that opportunity.

Rachel let out a long breath and turned her gaze back to Santana's questioning brown eyes. "I…have missed singing, I suppose." She mumbled, giving in to the inevitable, although feeling a little better given what Santana had said.

The cheerleader rubbed Rachel's shoulders and let out a victorious hum. "Of course you've missed it. I remember when you needed music like you needed oxygen. People don't change that much, chiclet." Santana stated as she pulled away and ushered Rachel to the couch so that they could choose some music. And her host was right, once upon a time music was just about as necessary as breathing, but now that she didn't need to breathe, and couldn't be a Broadway star, things had changed. But maybe she hadn't changed so much as a person, as much as her career opportunities had.

"That's true enough, San." She remarked as she started looking for some worthwhile, respectable songs to warm-up with; after her fairly extensive hiatus from singing, Rachel was certain that she couldn't slip into a Celine Dion song and do it justice quite yet.

But as she worked through her first few songs, feeling that familiar rush from performing, Rachel couldn't help but feel that insistent, infectious happiness envelop her. For weeks, she'd held off on singing from worry, but it didn't feel any different, at least the emotionality of it. The breathing was a new thing, given she had lost many of her warning triggers for running out of breath, but it didn't take long to adjust. And as she continued, and finally performed her first duet with Santana, Whitney Houston's wonderful 'So Emotional', she couldn't help but feel like her heart was back in that familiar choir room. That same electricity was filling the basement rec room, and if she closed her eyes, she could imagine and hear the others sitting around the room, singing and cheering along. Even though it wasn't real, Rachel still felt that connection, and she was thrilled that she at least had one other person to share it with. Despite all the trials of the past few weeks, Rachel felt normal again.

She felt normal, and happy, and so full of music. So, really, Rachel felt human.

And while she really, really felt like bursting out in song, no matter what was happening on the screen, it was Santana's turn to sing. Rachel watched Santana scroll through the lists of tracks, eventually settling on 'Nutbush City Limits'; she knew the song well enough, and smiled at how they both kept to a consistently upbeat selection. And her smile only grew when, much like with many of the other songs, Santana kind of just lost herself in the song. It wasn't like Santana was a stranger to glee performances, but the cheerleader had rarely ever sang a solo or even a duet in glee. Instead, she'd join in mid-song in other performances, singing and dancing, so it kind of threw Rachel for a bit of a loop that Santana was very much someone who hadn't joined performances out of peer pressure, but because she felt the music, and she clearly couldn't help herself. It was refreshing to see that someone else expressed themselves through music like she did, and she couldn't help but appreciate the girl's dancing either. Santana was, to put it lightly, somewhat mesmerizing.

So when the doorbell interrupted Santana near the end of the performance, Rachel could only frown and check her watch, concerned and curious as to who would be out so late, given the curfew. It's nearly midnight! Maybe Santana's father forgot his keys…that could be it…and then we could continue for a few more songs. Tonight…tonight has been wonderful…

"I'll see who it is. Can you take care of it?" Santana asked with a sad smile, before dashing upstairs as the bell rang once more. Rachel sighed and quickly disconnected the karaoke machine and packed it up, dragging it and her bag of gummi worms into the small storage space before closing the door behind them.

Over the past few weeks, the two of them had crafted a number of emergency routines, most of which involved making it seem as if Santana was living alone. No matter what they were doing in the house, they always ensured that it could be cleaned up and hidden away within a two minute span of time. Rachel couldn't help but feel a little sad about not being able to leave her own personal footprint anywhere but that small storage space and the upstairs attic, but she understood that it was simply risk management.

A second or two later, she heard the door open upstairs and focused in hopes of more clearly hearing the conversation. "Hey, San."

Quinn. Quinn Fabray was at the door for some odd reason, and Rachel couldn't even begin to fathom why. It just seemed a little odd for a teenager to be out so late after curfew, even if it was a Friday night. And even if Quinn was one of Santana's closest friends. It just seemed a little fishy.

"Quinn? The fuck are you…hell, come in, come in." Santana said, clearly as confused as she was, and Rachel could hear the two moving toward the kitchen. "What's gotten into you, Q? Trying to steal my title as the biggest bad ass at McKinley? Because breaking curfew without an audience won't give you that."

"Can't I just visit a friend? Jeez, Santana." Quinn noted with a laugh, Rachel peeking open the storage room door to hear a little better. She knew her hearing was ridiculously excellent now, but things like hard surfaces and walls truly did muffle important things like the clarity of words and inflections.

"Not when you're putting your pasty ass in danger, blondie!" She heard Santana yell out, clearly pretty frustrated, and for good reason. Rachel knew what was out there, and she couldn't get rid of that sinking feeling in her tummy at the thought of Quinn being attacked. The blonde had been through enough already in her life, Rachel knew that any more would just be terribly cruel. She'd already accidentally overheard that Russell was back with the blonde's mother a few weeks ago, which had most likely added further strain in that household; it wasn't any wonder that Quinn sought some friendship. It just seemed a bit odd to seek it at midnight, without a prior phone call.

Quinn's scoff was surprisingly audible, given the distance. "Please, San. Everyone's going missing at the parties, so don't worry. It's not a good look on you." Quinn remarked, and Rachel could clearly imagine the exaggerated eye-roll that very likely accompanied it.

"Whatever, blondie. I'm just saying, you can't be sure that's where people are being taken, so excuse me for showing a little concern. I don't want to get saddled with head Cheerio duties this close to nationals if you get taken by whatever perv is out there." She heard Santana rant, alongside what might have been the fridge opening. For a split second, Rachel hoped that Quinn wouldn't notice the vegan food in there, but then soon realized that she'd already taken it to the basement earlier that evening for a snack before Santana had disappeared. The food didn't really do anything for her, but she liked to participate in meals, it gave her a sense of normalcy.

There was a muffled sound soon after, and she noticed that they'd stopped moving, at least. "No, I'm not hungry, but thanks. And Puck told me that all the people who went missing just vanished the night of a party, after being at that party. Probably means it's some psycho kid." Quinn noted offhandedly, sounding a little bored of the topic. Though Rachel knew if the blonde was aware of everything, she probably wouldn't be so dismissive.

"Yeah, well, just because they were at the party, doesn't mean they were taken there. Puck sends people on snack and beer runs all the time. For all he knows, the person might be lurking around stores or whatever." Santana's argument was clearly based on Rachel's experience, which she appreciated, though she was pretty sure Quinn wouldn't accept the logic.

"And I didn't go to any store on the way here, so seriously…I know you'd hate to never see me shower again, or catch me after some flips, but it's getting a little excessive, San." Quinn's tone was teasing, though with a tone of something that she hadn't really heard from the blonde before. It was somewhat playful, and Rachel couldn't help but be a little confused, given how Quinn was usually neutral, angry, ice-queen frosty, venomously annoyed, or cupcake sweet. Never really playful, per se. It was strangely annoying. "Anyway, how have you been since Monday? We haven't really hung out lately."

There was a brief moment of silence that Rachel could only interpret as Santana's 'shrug-time', a short window of time that tended to happen after people asked the girl questions. She'd seen it in person, and knew well enough that if Santana didn't answer a question right away, she was probably shrugging, or sometimes eye rolling. Rarely, she would do both at the same time. It was all a little funny, if frustrating, because Rachel had previously never really seen much depth in the shrugging motion. For Santana, though, there were a plethora of slightly different shrugs to convey different messages. The diva still didn't have nearly enough of them figured out to feel confident in what each was for, but they all lasted about the same length of time, only making them that much more cryptic and indecipherable.

"I've been fine, just made a mess downstairs this week studying, so I decided to clean it up tonight after I worked out and nearly tripped over some cups and trash." Rachel nodded at Santana's explanation, knowing that the girl actually had made something of a mess downstairs during her study sessions, though usually cleaned up somewhat afterward. It had only taken them five or so minutes to truly make the area clutter and mess free earlier in the evening.

Quinn's laugh emanated through the home, despite the thick walls and floors. "And do you sing every time you clean?"

"Most times, yeah." Santana stated immediately, sounding comfortably indifferent, something Rachel was rather impressed with, given the lie. "Especially when I'm in a good mood and thinking I'll ace my finals."

"Well if you don't need to study, there's still some time left to hang out. Your room?" Quinn asked, and soon after she heard their fading footsteps move up to the second floor, their words turning hazy and then simply not audible.

Rachel decided to use that opportunity to further clean and organize the basement in case Quinn found her way downstairs; the diva was a stickler for detail, after all. It simply wouldn't do to have Santana's cover story be exposed as illegitimate, and the cheerleader simply wasn't the type to neglect her chores from getting caught up in singing.

Once done, she retreated into the small storage space where Santana had set up a cozy little reclining chair for her. After switching the light on and getting comfy under the blankets, Rachel pulled out one of the books Santana lent her, '2666' by Roberto Bolano, which had been interesting so far. With all the time that she spent awake, and Santana spent sleeping, she often wound up with a heavy amount of free time. Reading had never been her favourite hobby, but she'd enjoyed it enough, and it was nice to read stories again and lose herself in other worlds.

It wasn't as nice as losing herself in the basement, singing karaoke with Santana like she'd been doing earlier, but it was something. Still, she really did wish that she'd been able to spend a little more time feeling like a normal teenage girl again.


Santana was pretty damn tired. She'd been up since six in the morning, and it was a little past midnight already, and knowing Quinn, it would be another forty to sixty minutes before they hit the hay. This wasn't particularly a new thing, and she generally knew the drill. Q wasn't the type to make late night visits to just anyone, for just any reason. Usually, she didn't pry for a plethora of reasons, primarily because the last time she did, Quinn had cut Santana out of her life for the final three or so months of her pregnancy. She'd been the only one who hadn't been given permission to visit Quinn after the ordeal, but at least she'd been able to sneak a peek at the kid before Shelby had adopted her.

So she knew the risks of asking questions. She knew the risks of deviating from the small talk and silent cuddling that the blonde needed every so often. And it wasn't like Santana minded, because she'd do anything for the blonde, but lately, she'd been worried. A little before people started going missing, Russell had moved back into the Fabray home, and that had instantly put Quinn on edge, for good reason. And every weekend since, Quinn had been hauled off to some Christian bible thumper camp thing, which would have just been something she'd tease the girl over if Q didn't come into school every Monday looking exhausted. Combine all that with the girl usually wearing jeans, long sleeve sweaters and occasionally maxi skirts on her free time, as well as their cheerios-issued white turtlenecks that Quinn loathed, and Santana knew something was up, that it was serious. It had been months since Quinn had popped by so late, and she was always happy to help, but this time she needed answers. Especially considering that Quinn usually left early Saturday mornings at the latest for that bible shit, and sleeping over at her house probably meant that it was a no-go that weekend.

"I'm just gonna get ready…why don't you get all set up, okay?" Santana asked, drawing a small nod from the blonde, who was busy appraising her messy bedroom as usual.

It was a bit of a tactical decision, really. The bathroom was between her bedroom and the attic, and if Quinn decided to go exploring for some inexplicable reason, she'd hear. Santana wasn't like Berry used to be, her nightly ritual was fairly short in comparison, and after about twelve or so minutes, she was strolling back into her room; Quinn was already under the covers, the blonde's clothes neatly folded on the computer chair. Soon enough, she'd changed into her usual sleep attire, shut off the lights, and slid in beside her friend.

Already, she knew something was off, given that the blonde was facing away from her. If there was still something that Quinn tended to be instinctual about, it was to never give her back to anyone, so Santana was pretty shocked to see that even when she got settled in, the blonde didn't turn to face her. Deciding to take advantage of the scenario, she cautiously wiggled her way across the space between them and gently draped an arm around Quinn's waist; the action had Quinn tensing up, but she was motivated, working to slip her other arm under the girl. The pained hiss that the blonde let out when her arm pressed faintly against the girl's ribs stilled her attempt.

"Q? What's wrong?" she whispered quietly, not moving any part of her body in hopes of ensuring that she doesn't cause the girl any pain.

"Nothing, I just don't…don't hug me, Santana. Go back to your side." Quinn gritted out firmly, but she knew Quinn. If there was one person in the world that she absolutely knew better than anyone else, she'd probably say it was Quinn, and that wasn't her annoyed, frustrated, emotionally overwhelmed or mentally exhausted tones and sounds. It was clear as day that Quinn was hurt, and the residual pain was affecting her speech, which made sense if the girl's ribs were hurt; ribs protect the lungs, and if breathing hurt, then speaking would be affected.

Carefully, she pulled her arm out from beneath the girl and used it to try and rotate Quinn onto her back, something the blonde gave her a solid smack to the collarbone for, but otherwise refrained from violence. It was dark, and Quinn was, like, ninety five percent covered by her comforter, but she needed to know what hurt. "What happened, Q?"

"Don't, San. Not tonight." Quinn urged darkly, but Santana wasn't having any of the girl's warning. The last time she pressed, it hadn't been about a tremendously important issue, and Quinn was hormonal, so that had been a heavy risk going in. This time around, the blonde was her normal, sober self, and Santana had a good idea what was going on again.

"Q, I can't be your friend if you won't let me." Santana spoke, frustrated with the situation, but forcing herself to be calm; if anything Rachel's presence had helped with that. The diva really did have a gift for keeping most things in perspective, and Santana had more or less found herself focusing on a long-term goal in order to keep cool-headed in such situations.

"A good friend would support me and not push me, San. You know what happened last time." That warning was clearer than the one before, and Quinn sounded entirely serious, so Santana swiftly straddled the girl's waist and sat on her thighs, keeping the blonde grounded. "San…" Quinn growled, which was almost kind of scary, but she knew Q wouldn't really hurt her.

As carefully as she could, Santana pulled the comforter away from them, giving her room to move as Quinn glared at her. "A best friend, Q…" She started, gently rolling the girl's tank top up her torso to expose Quinn's upper body and survey the damage. "A best friend would do anything to keep you safe and free from abuse, Quinn. We both know what happened before." She finished, choking back her emotions as she saw a massive dark bruise all along the left side of the blonde's ribs.

Santana wanted nothing more at that moment than to kill Russell Fabray. She'd dreamed of how it would happen for years now, though they'd been less frequent since Quinn had been disowned initially, and with Russell away. For years, she'd sat by and watched the abuse accumulate on poor Lucy. Lucy, who was "too fat to be a Fabray". Lucy, who "looked like Judy's failure of a mother, Harriet" because of her brown hair. Lucy, who was practically an 'it', "for not being womanly like her mother and sister" and for thinking she could "aspire to the greatness of men", all for liking to read and having opinions. Lucy, whose nose made her look "like a dirty Jew". And so on, and so forth. In that house, Russell was the only one who was allowed to speak words, but Santana was sure that when he doled out punishment, the girls would break. Especially poor Lucy. Her Lucy.

She'd tried. Really, she'd called the police, she'd gotten her parents to try, but nothing ever helped. And Lucy would just show up with more bruises under her sweaters and skirts. Even when Lucy became Quinn, it continued, if less frequently, though Russell tended to make up for it through added force, as a reminder to not get complacent or regress. Quinn had stretch-marks now to match the scars from the belt and other items he'd used; the man rarely broke bone, but from the look of the blonde's current wounds, it seemed he'd maybe passed that milestone with some fractures.

"It's not that bad. I convinced dad I couldn't go to camp tomorrow because too many of the other girls hug, and they'd find out." Quinn whispered sadly, attempting to offer a reassuring smile, but it just looked like a weird grimace. "He and mom will be gone most of tomorrow visiting Frannie, so just…let's get some sleep, okay? I'm tired."

Santana considered it, but ultimately decided to explore a bit, using her hands to feel around the rest of the girl's torso, finding Quinn flinching as her hands lightly rubbed various areas of her back. He threw her against the wall and probably fractured her fibs from punching or kicking her…yeah, probably a kick, given how deep that bruise looked…

Wordlessly, she slipped off of Quinn and got her back flat on the mattress before rolling Quinn over to lie mostly on top of her. "This way, your ribs aren't being pressured and neither is your back." She explained softly, drawing a hesitant nod from the blonde. "If he ever hurts you again, I want you to come here, okay? You'll be safe, and I'll…you know. I promised you, you know that."

"San…" Quinn breathed out, taking a moment to get comfy and pull the comforter over them before bringing her eyes back up to meet Santana's dark ones. "San, you know I can't just leave."

Even if it was the truth, it hurt to hear. It hurt to see her close friend battered and bruised, and unwilling to just get the hell out. It hurt that all she could ever offer was moral support and a warm bed to sleep in when the damage was done. "Your reasons had better be worth this, Q." she noted softly, wrapping her arms a little above the girl's hips to have at least some hold on her friend. "It sucks so fucking much, okay? Just…promise me something, alright?"

Quinn was quiet for a few agonizingly long moments, but eventually nodded against her collarbone. Santana knew that she'd already stepped past her usual boundaries of vulnerability, but between the damaged girl in her arms, and the one in the basement that she'd found in the park broken and bleeding, it was hard to keep a hold of everything she was feeling inside. "Promise me that one day you'll be happy, and I won't have to worry anymore."

In all honesty, she knew it was a lot to promise. With Rachel being a vampire, she knew she'd be in for some serious shit going forward, but Santana at least needed to know that Quinn would be free of Lima and her family one day, and would have a chance at loving life again. She needed some hope that what she'd been saying to Rachel, what she'd been helping Brittany aspire to believe, and what she'd been preaching to Quinn would truly happen. Most days, she was strong enough to not let her mind wander to those unanswered dilemmas and unknown futures, but in that bed, holding Quinn, it was just a little too heavy for her faith to handle.

And when long seconds passed into minutes with Quinn still and silent against her, she couldn't help but just try to hold everything in, to keep herself from collapsing as her body shook with barely-caged emotion. But she was silent too as she forced herself as still as possible, her cheeks and eyes as dry as possible, her throat and mouth as noiseless as possible. Even though they both knew better, she'd play it off as a hiccup, or a coughing fit, or even a bad dream or something like that if Quinn ever asked, but she knew the blonde wouldn't. Quinn had requested silence from her, and had learned the cost of it. There was nothing more to say.


It was fucking cold as hell out in McKinley High's parking lot as Santana waited for the goddamn bus to arrive. They'd been out there for nearly an hour and a half and it was only just getting to be six in the morning; Santana had an idea that this was another of Sue's character-building tests, but she had better things to spend her life on than freezing on a cold December morning. As far as she figured, her crazy coach was lucky they were heading to a state championship, because anything less would have had her going all Lima Heights Adjacent on the woman.

But still, there she stood, breathing hot air into her hands and rubbing them together to try and keep warm. Rachel had tried to get her to bring some damn mittens, but she'd assured the diva that there wouldn't be any point, given that she'd just be making a switch in the parking lot. Maybe I should listen more to her weirdo sixth sense sometimes, I guess… she mused to herself, wishing she was confident enough that her car could handle acting as a furnace, but it had been so long since the battery had been changed, and it was low on gas, and she really didn't know cars well enough to trust that her car wouldn't die on her in the damn parking lot.

It was bad enough that she'd be spending a little over a day away from home, having to deal with a busted up car would have just made it all worse. Still, she'd made sure to go over a plethora of routines with Rachel, quizzing the girl on all the safeguards and plans they'd conjured up over the past weeks in case of an emergency. It was the first time she was leaving for anything near an extended period of time, and she was admittedly a little worried. Santana wasn't the most complex thinker most times, and as far as she was concerned, if she wasn't around to protect the girl, she couldn't keep her promise. It all boiled down to that, really.

Santana also would have felt more confident if Rachel hadn't told her about the increased foot traffic around the house from sundown to sunrise; most of it was on the sidewalk outside, or the unfinished housing development past the backyard, but it was concerning given the curfew and the fact that there was no reason for people to be hanging around like that, or walking by so frequently. Santana hoped it was just some unruly teens, and not vampires or hunters or whatever else was out there, trying to get their stupid hands on Rachel.

It was weird, but she'd gotten pretty close with the weird little hobbit. It had taken some time to realize it, but the girl had taken up a part in her life much like Quinn in that she'd grown familiar with Rachel's diva ways and craziness. With much of that stripped away, Santana found herself missing those parts of the diva, because even if they were a little annoying, they were more endearing and motivating. It was all hard to explain and wrap her head around, but she'd missed Berry when she disappeared, and even now she missed the rambling and wacky over-dramatic antics. So she'd been doing the odd thing every few days whenever she could scrape up the free time, trying to help remind Rachel that she was still a teenager; that she could still let loose and have fun with her hobbies, and just exist for a bit without all the usual worries and stress.

Rachel, at least, seemed to appreciate those moments, even if sometimes they didn't last too long. Just seeing those ridiculously big smiles on the girl's face was nice; they used to happen all the time before the attack, but they were pretty damn rare these days. And Berry is kind of one of my people now, so I have a duty as a friend or some shit to keep her happy and hopeful. It's, like, a rule or something.

Santana was broken from her thoughts by a light poke to her shoulder; curious, she turned to find Britt standing deep in her personal space wearing her usual goofy, giddy smile. She returned the smile and cocked her head, silently questioning what was up, kind of glad to be interacting with the blonde again. It had been a while since their mutual separation, and she'd needed a bit of space from the bubbly girl before she could feel normal around her again. It had worked, for the most part, but then the disappearances started happening, and she kind of got too busy to truly reconnect with Britt.

The blonde simply gestured with her head to follow her over toward the nearby trees, away from the pack of the Cheerios, so she did, wondering what the girl wanted that demanded privacy, given that Britt was usually very public with anything she said or did. Once they had put a fair bit of distance between themselves and the pack, the blonde spun around and launched herself at Santana, hugging her fiercely.

And it really didn't feel awkward, or sad, or anything less than nice. It was more of a relief than anything, knowing she could receive her former girlfriend's affection and just treat her as a best friend again.

"How've you been, San? I haven't seen you in forever!" Brittany practically squealed as she gave Santana another tight squeeze before stepping back a teensy bit.

She felt that shred of guilt billow up again, but she pushed it back down, knowing that she had legitimate reasons for her recent lack of quality time spent with the blonde. "I'm sorry for not making time, Britt-Britt, I've just been busy, you know? School and everything."

"It's okay, San. I know you have Ms. Wallace for your physics class, and she's like, super mean whenever she fills in as my trigonometry teacher and always crushes the paper ducks I make, and she marks really hard, and she has this really weird lisp. So I like totally understand that, and I know keeping Rachel safe is, like, totes important too." Britt rambled in her usual bubbly tone, and Santana couldn't help but nod and agree that Ms. Wallace really was a stone-cold bitch. The woman was one of the hardest markers in the school, docking marks for trivial things like having messily scribed formulas and symbols, among other stupid things. God, I can't wait until this semester's over and I won't have to deal with her anymo…wait…waitwaitwaitwait, what did she…Rachel?

Santana wasn't sure how long her brain was malfunctioning for, her mouth simply sputtering out random hushed syllables in the time it took to really gather her mental faculties and properly process whatever the fuck was going on. It was like a massive punch in the ovaries; for weeks, she'd been running trials with Rachel in case something came up in public, and after hours of training, there she was frozen. Frozen, panicking, and incapable of forming words. The thought of being approached by a hunter or a vampire and having that reaction reveal Rachel's position managed to snap her out of her stupor due to the immense ripple of fear that rushed through her body.

Thankfully, Brittany seemed to notice, and just pulled Santana in for another hug. It wasn't really comforting, but at least she understood the intent, and appreciated it. "It's okay, San. I'm, like, totally Team Rachel in this, and I'm happy you're looking after her. I knew you'd be really good at it."

Santana tried to let Brittany's words sink in, but she couldn't get past the fact that the blonde somehow knew, and that scared the fuck out of her, even if Britt seemed happy and calm about it all.

"Are you…are you fucking serious right now, B?" She breathed out, still trying to calm herself down, knowing that panicking and freaking out was not a very good thing to be doing in that situation. She needed to be composed, and to have a clear head, because if Britt knew, then others might also, and that meant Rachel was in danger.

Almost as if reading her mind, Britt stepped back and gave Santana a sad smile. "Yep. But you need to tell Rachel to get out of the house as soon as the sun's down, because people have totes been scoping out your house all week, and they're probably gonna do something bad while we're gone."

Santana was surprised that instead of freezing once more like she had mere seconds ago, she felt entirely compelled to run to her car and drive home to defend her and Rachel's sanctuary. Or lay some goddamn motherfucking traps for any jackasses who thought they could break into her home without consequence. She could feel the anger building inside of her, her heart beating furiously from both rage and fear, and had to really focus on her long term goal of keeping Rachel safe to keep from exploding into a five foot five ball of fury. Rachel…gotta focus on how to keep her safe, and if people are coming…if people are breaking in tonight, or this weekend, then she needs to get somewhere safe, because home won't be safe anymore. And…maybe if they don't find her, or any evidence of her, then they won't break in again. So traps…maybe not the best idea. Okay…deep breaths, because Britt's looking at me funny and I should probably say something…

"What do I need to do? Do I skip cheer? She needs to be safe, Britt, and if it's not at home, then I need to find her somewhere safe. I can't do that in Cleveland. Fuck, Sue's gonna kill me! QUINN's gonna kill me!" Santana rambled as her mind tried to find a solution, building up possible options only to quickly realize they were either impossible or too flawed. It made her feel helpless, and that was something Santana Lopez was NOT comfortable with at all.

Britt, however, shook her head and sneakily linked pinkies with her, a manner of affection that had always managed to soothe Santana, at least a little bit. Enough for her to focus back on the blonde. "No, you have to go to the competition. You will go to the competition. No one…well, it doesn't seem like anyone really suspects you like, super a lot, it's just that your house is really huge and both you and your dad aren't home a lot during daylight hours. That's why people have been checking around when the sun goes down, but not too long after. But maybe they just want to be sure no one's hiding out, I'm not sure. Your house IS really awesome for hide and seek, San." The blonde explained, and it did make sense, even if it was a bit unnerving to hear the girl speak so seriously, at least for the most part.

And it was a bit of a relief that the interest in her home wasn't apparently incredibly serious. She could work with that, and hopefully they'd be able to keep the place safe until graduation. "Rachel doesn't have much of her own stuff, we've made sure of that, so there wouldn't be a trace given a few minutes of advance notice. Even our books we've used for research are hidden away in dusty old boxes…unless someone looks really close, there's nothing to find. All Berry would need to do is move the mattress and our stuffed animals back to the guest room, and do some minor cleaning." Santana noted more to herself in listing off necessary preparations than anything else. It was still dark out, so with a quick text, she could be sure that Rachel would be ready come sundown.

So she pulled out her phone and started typing up a quick message for the girl, knowing that Rachel will probably be annoyed by the lack of notice and ability to use the comfier attic sleeping area, but it was better than nothing. "You've always been a really smart cookie, San. Like, definitely one of those cookies with the gooey chocolate or cream inside, because I'm not sure how that happens, but it probably takes some really smart people." Britt spoke, the familiarity of the girl's oddness making her feel a little more comfortable about the situation. Which, really, still didn't make her comfortable with it, but she wasn't about to blow a gasket. "Oh, and tell her to go to the McDowell Reservoir. My family will bring her somewhere safe for the weekend."

Santana nodded and added Brittany's request at the end before hitting send, feeling like it was all pretty much out of her hands now. People were invading, Rachel was going to have to run away from home again, and she wasn't going to be around to help. It really sucked. Everything was riding on other people's efforts now, and that had her nervous and feeling unsettled, not comfortable with the lack of control. Rachel wasn't just her responsibility now, she was her close friend, and even just knowing that the girl was in danger had her on edge and worrying. I made a promise…

"Britt…" She started, not feeling at all happy or comfortable with what she was about to say, because she'd never ever used such a one with the girl before, but it was something that had to be done. Her world had changed drastically over the past few weeks, and even her childhood friendship with Britt wasn't outside of investigation now. "If this is a trick to lure Rachel away and kill her, I…fuck, I can't promise that I won't look for payback. I love your parents…your whole family…but I promised her she'd be safe with me, B. If they hurt her, I'll hurt them."

Britt nodded and playfully swung their linked hands in the air a little. "I know, San. I'll totally explain everything when we get back."

It didn't make her feel a hell of a lot better, given all the questions still aimlessly floating in her head, but she accepted that answer for now. "Good, because I'd really hate to make you sad, Britt, but I'd do it."

"And that's why I know you're good for her." Britt stated happily, her giddy smile back with a vengeance, and while it was a little contagious, Santana's didn't quite meet her eyes.

None of her smiles did that day, not while feeling she'd failed her first test.


Rachel had left almost immediately when The Weather network stated sundown occurred. The sun was still sending its rays reflecting through the twilight, so her skin stung, but thankfully there would be no physically enduring damage aside from the annoying ache it left for a mere fifteen minutes. And really, what was fifteen minutes when she was probably immortal and could live for all eternity? Time wasn't something she'd quite been able to wrap her head around philosophically since her transformation, and she wasn't sure that such understanding could come without a wealth of experience, sadly. Most of which would likely see her outliving everyone she loved. Not a very pleasant thought.

The trip to the reservoir wasn't tremendously long, but she'd taken some extra time in order to be as sneaky and stealthy as possible, keeping a keen eye, ear and nose on her surroundings for any dangers. The fact that she was being hunted couldn't be any more present in her mind, given the fact that she'd been forced out of her home, however new it was, by potentially the people after her. When Rachel arrived, she couldn't help but admit the tranquility of it all; winter really gave the area a certain peaceful atmosphere, and had her thinking that maybe she'd take Santana out there one night to stargaze or just relax. She couldn't help but smile at the idea, thinking that it would be rather delightful.

After about ten or so minutes of waiting, some noise in the woods to the northeast grabbed her attention, and soon three wolves emerged, slowing from a fair pace to a calm trot before stopping in front of her. All of them shared a similar grey fur coat, with slight differences between them, yet a small trail of white above their left eye and wrapping over and behind their heads brought back memories of the wolf from the nature trail Santana had found her in.

The beasts didn't remain still for long, the lead turning and gesturing towards where they had come from before breaking out into a slow jog, one that she did her best to match, given her generally low energy levels. While the reminder of the wolf from the park was enough to mostly calm her nerves, she tried to remind herself that Santana wouldn't put her in danger, that the girl knew what she was doing. That the wolves would help; how she found out about the wolves was something she was curious about, but she would have time later to interrogate her housemate.

She'd already called the cheerleader, after all, pretending to be her father on the phone. It was their way of ensuring that their text-based communication was truthful, and since Santana didn't use any of the code words, she was about ninety nine percent certain that the girl hadn't been coerced.

After nearly an hour of straight jogging through wilderness, they came upon a clearing with what looked to be a farmhouse atop a slight hill. The four of them progressed towards it until they were within a decent range of the door, where the three wolves slowed to a stop and began shaking and panting.

And before she could really take in what was happening, there were three tremendously nude individuals running for the backdoor of the home and waving her in, yelling out complaints about the cold that she really hadn't caught in her absolute feelings of morbid embarrassment. Which, really, was something of a nice feeling, even if she was shocked and aghast, because it was instinct; it was her human side showing in full force.

It didn't take long for her to reach the house and, deciding that the others were casual about entry, soon she found herself waltzing into a kitchen area filled with mostly dressed, familiar blonde people. People she had met at a glee competition in junior year, who had been so proud of their daughter's dancing abilities.

Rachel wasn't quite sure where Brittany fit into her predicament, but with the kind smiles on her fellow gleek's parents' faces, she couldn't really find it in herself to worry too heavily about it. The Pierces were family to Santana, as far as she was aware, and just knowing that had her feeling about half as safe as she would have been in her new home. As the parental figures offered her a 'snack' and showed her where she'd be spending the weekend, she smiled and did her best to be polite, but all the while couldn't help but wonder how Brittany of all people managed to sniff her out.


A/N: And that's the third chapter! Things will start to ramp up a bit from here, as more and more people shift into the picture. I know there was a lot to digest in this chapter, but I thought it was for the best to get a lot of it out of the way. I felt the need to really integrate all four girls into the story at this point, to cover vampire lore (or, at least, their current understanding of it through experimentation), and to set the plot ball in motion.

Been finishing the background lore for this in my spare time, so when paper-writing season started (also known as 'sitting at home in my pajamas, typing away on my computer' season), I more or less found myself a little ahead of schedule, and was able to push this out easily due to the lore document being fresh in my mind. Was fun to do, even with the angst don't expect any Feathers/Sanvean/Mirrorball until at least the 11th or 12th, because my final 3 papers need finishing by the 9th, and writing quality academic work takes time. :\ But there will still be Christmas fluff.

Anywho, thanks so much to everyone for the support, and for taking the time out of your days(and nights) to read my stories :) Writing is such amazing fun, but knowing I can provide some entertainment is also a pretty nice feeling, so it's just pretty awesome.

Have a good one!