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When Quinn wakes up the following morning the first thing she notices is a certain leather jacket casually draped over her desk chair.
She doesn't know how she manages to catch sight of it so quickly (especially when she's still kind of in sleep mode) but she does and instead of having some kind of internal freakout like a normal person would - she is staring at evidence that proves she'd had a visitor while she was sleeping after all - she just rolls her eyes. As if this kind of thing happens to her all the time.
Which it doesn't, by the way.
Flinging back her covers, she gets out of bed and sighs. Just goes to show how not normal she is, she thinks, walking across her cold hardwood floor toward her desk. Of course she's known that for awhile now.
When she's close enough she snatches the jacket off her chair and shakes her head to herself. She really needs to remember to lock her windows every night.
After casually examining it for a few moments (no idea why though) she, without thinking, brings his jacket closer to her face. Her eyes unwittingly close as she breathes in its comforting scent. She knows comforting is kind of a weird way to describe a smell but it's the first thing that comes to mind. Well, that and 'it surprisingly doesn't smell like dog'.
No, it has more of an earthy scent, she thinks, inhaling again, like the woods or something.
…and what the hell is she doing?
Dropping the jacket as if it suddenly burst into flames on her, she promptly turns and runs into the bathroom, having just completely freaked herself out.
Once the door is closed she leans against it, pausing for a moment to take in a few deep calming breaths. "I am not the mate of a werewolf." she murmurs to herself, slowly walking up to her mirror. "I am not the mate of a werewolf…"
Lifting her gaze, she stares resolutely at her own reflection. "I, Quinn Fabray, am not the mate of a freaking werewolf."
—
"You, Quinn Fabray, are so the mate of a freaking werewolf." Santana smirks, folding up from her hundredth sit-up of the morning.
Quinn flops onto her back with a groan. "Santana you are so not helping here."
Despite knowing better not to, she had decided to give the Latina the rundown on last night's events because, whether she likes it or not, Santana is her best friend and over the years she's learned that keeping secrets from one another is pretty much futile.
"I still can't believe you let him kiss you."
She pushes herself upright with a scoff. "I didn't let him kiss me. He ambushed me." She holds out her hand and pulls Santana to her feet. "And I slapped him for it, didn't I?"
"Yeah, and what did he do? Go for seconds."
"Well of course he did." she can't help but smirk, throwing her red workout towel over her shoulder. "What guy in their right mind wouldn't want to kiss moi?"
Santana scoffs. "Every gay in the world." she responds easily, following her toward the treadmills. "So what are you gonna to do? I mean, granted the guy's a hottie but he's still a dog." Her nose crinkles at a sudden thought. "He didn't try to hump your leg when you were making out, right?"
She rolls her eyes. "No, Santana." Shaking her head, she steps onto the nearest treadmill and programs it to her usual setting. "And as for what I'm going to do…" she sighs heavily, uncertain. "I haven't quite figured that out yet."
"Well killing him is out of the question." Santana says, the two of them walking in sync as their warm up. She turns her head and smirks. "Cause you've already proved you can't do that."
She shoots her a quick glare before reverting her attention forward.
"So how was it?" Santana asks, a moment later.
"How was what?" she sighs, picking up her pace a fraction. Unsurprisingly Santana does the same. They're competitive that way.
"Kissing him, obviously." the Latina retorts, her eyes rolling in the process. "Was it good or did it suck balls?"
Probably the best kiss I've had in my life - but of course she's not going to tell Santana that. "It was alright." she shrugs. "Not bad or anything."
She can feel Santana's gaze lingering on her so she, reluctantly, turns her head. "What?" she wonders, noticing the Latina's quirked eyebrow.
"You're so lying."
"Am not." she snaps, instantly. "Downplaying, maybe." she concedes. "But not lying."
Santana doesn't say anything but she's got that knowing smile of hers which says more than words ever could. She could feel her eyes narrow in response. "Look just cause I shared a kiss or two with the guy doesn't mean I'm suddenly in love with him."
"Not yet." Santana corrects, smirking.
"Not ever." she retorts, picking up her pace again.
"You know you've never been one for delusion." Santana speculates, clearly amused with all this. "This whole thing must have you really freaked."
Her jaw tightens momentarily. "You and I both know that nothing's been confirmed. And even if it was I would not be freaked. I do not get freaked." she calmly reminds. "Freak outs are for the mentally unstable."
"But doesn't being delusional kind of mean you're mentally unstable on some level?" Santana questions aloud, then shakes her head, already dismissing it. "Whatever. Point is you and the dog boy are mates. And before you start denying," she adds, catching Quinn's look. "let me just say that judging by the way you two are around each other there is most definitely some serious mojo jojo going on."
"Besides, I know you, Fabray. You would never in your right mind let a guy come within kissing distance of you if you didn't want him to. I've seen you shut down your boyfriends from across the hall."
She can't help but roll her eyes again - even if Santana is, on some level, kind of right. "Next time you see the mutt just straight up ask him what the fuck is going on." Santana continues, shrugging. "I mean, I already know what is, but you obviously need someone else to spell it out for you."
Quinn sighs. She knows well enough that she doesn't need anyone to spell out what's going on between her and the werewolf. Deep down, she knows the truth and while she may not know much about werewolves and their whole mating process (ugh, just gross) she can't deny what the universe is trying to tell her.
The thing is she just really doesn't want to believe it.
The door to the Cheerio's training room opens in that moment and both Quinn and Santana turn their heads, half expecting to see Coach Sylvester. They instantly relax, though, when they see that it isn't her.
"Someone overslept this morning." Quinn speculates teasingly as a flustered Brittany comes rushing in.
"I got preoccupied in the sewers. Again." the other blonde answers, slightly breathless. "Kicking vampire butt."
At this, Santana - of course - immediately goes into overprotective best friend/girlfriend mode, demanding why Brittany hadn't called for reinforcements, overreacting and whatnot. Quinn, on the other hand, is much more lax - Brittany is a lot more lethal and capable than Santana sometimes gives her credit for.
She stops her machine and steps off it, then walks over to the two girls. "How many vamps Britt?" she inquires, interrupting Santana's fretting.
"Five." Brittany says, beaming proudly when Quinn high fives her. "And I didn't get a drop of blood on me." She spins around to further prove her point. "See?"
"Yeah, but Britt you should've called us so we could've helped you out." Santana says, her concern still evident.
"Kind of hard to make a call in the midst of fighting off vampires, Santana." Quinn sighs, her eyes rolling yet again. "I mean we're skilled but we're not that skilled."
"Speak for yourself." Brittany deadpans; Santana cracks a smile at it. "I didn't have my phone on me." she explains, turning to her concerned girlfriend. "Lord Tubbington wanted to borrow it this morning so he could text his lady cat friend. Things are getting pretty serious between them."
Santana nods understandingly and pulls the blonde into a hug, sighing into her shoulder. "I just don't want anything to happen to you, Britt. You know I can't lose you."
"What is this some kind of after school special? Ugh. Gag me now."
Quinn turns around, unsurprised by the sudden addition to their conversation. Santana's eyes narrow in contempt as she takes in the form of the one and only Becky Jackson - or as they like to call her, the nugget sized pain in their ass. "What do you want, Jackson?" she sneers, reluctantly pulling away from Brittany.
Becky scoffs. "Coach wants you three in her office pronto." she informs, rolling her eyes as if to add duh, why else would I be here?
—
"I could really go for a breakfast burrito right about now." Brittany throws out absently, breaking the painful silence currently plaguing the room. The three of them have been sitting here in Coach Sylvester's office for a good five minutes now where said woman has done nothing but sit behind her desk and stare at them, looking visibly annoyed.
Quinn figures if Sue isn't going to get this ball rolling she might as well do it. "Is there something you wanted, Coach?" she asks, still unsure of the meaning behind the woman's silence. She knows that it can't be anything good though. "Santana and I already debriefed you on last night's patrol."
Sue doesn't say anything (surprise, surprise). Instead she pulls out a canister of Febreze from her desk drawer and aims it at her, index finger firmly pressed down on the nozzle. Quinn instantly turns her head when she's hit with a face full of deodorizing spray.
"What are you doing?" she splutters, coughing slightly. She waves her hand back and forth willing the chemicals to evaporate before she can inhale anymore.
"You three are stinking up my office." Sue enunciates slowly, turning her aim onto Santana and Brittany and holding it there. Quickly, though, it falls back onto Quinn. "But you especially,Q."
"What are you talking about?" she coughs, blinking heavily through the fumes. Yeah, Sue may or may not have just blinded her.
Sue rolls her eyes and reluctantly sets down the Febreze canister. "Tweedle-dumb over there smells like she just had a spa day in the sewers while horchata huge boobs here smells like she just got off work at a taco factory. But that's not the point - they always smell like that." Both Brittany and Santana frown deeply at this.
Sue reverts her attention onto Quinn, her piercing eyes dangerous slits. "You, on the other hand, don't always smell like you rolled around in a dog kennel. Care to explain why that is?"
Unwittingly, Quinn's eyes flicker for a second, shocked. She opens her mouth, having no ready response. "I-I -"
"That's enough backtalk." Sue orders, prompting Quinn to shut her mouth again. "Now. A little birdie told me that you spent your night fornicating with the enemy, Q. What do you have to say for yourself?"
Her face heats up, not willing up to bring up that topic - especially not here and certainly not now. "Look, Coach." Quinn starts, her tone firm and her game face set. "I can honestly say that I have never fornicated with anyone in my life. Yes, I may have shared a kiss with a werewolf but believe me I didn't-"
Sue shakes her head with disgust. "You know I have a strict no fraternizing with the enemy rule, Q. Does loyalty mean nothing to you?" she questions, standing suddenly. Sue finds herself able to enjoy the sheer terror of others much more when she's standing over them.
Quinn opens her mouth to respond but Brittany chooses that moment to join the conversation, interrupting her. "But the wolf boy is Quinn's lobster." she says, in her usual, slightly flat tone. Quinn internally groans, head ducking slightly.
Sue snaps her fingers toward Santana, naturally looking for clarification. "Translate, Boobs McGee." she demands, her narrowed gaze unwavering from Brittany.
Santana reluctantly lifts her gaze from her nails and sighs heavily. "Apparently Quinn's like the mate to this Alpha werewolf we keep running into."
"You two are so walking home." Quinn grits out to them both before snapping her attention back to Sue. "And for the record I am not the mate of a werewolf. I'm simply -"
"Oh, here we go again." Santana drawls, her eyes rolling. "She's in denial, Coach." she explains. "Big time."
"Nothing has been confirmed yet." Quinn retorts, throwing a brief glare the Latina's way. "For all we know-"
"Can I have permission to slap her? Please?" Santana asks, holding up her hand. "Cause I seriously can't take anymore of this broken record crap."
"For Christ's sake would you people stop interrupting me?" Quinn exclaims, beyond frustrated. She doesn't even care that she just took the Lord's name in vain. "I am not a werewolf's mate. The only reason I haven't killed him is because…" she fumbles with her words for a second, "well, because I haven't found reason to. I mean it's not like he's harmed anyone or done any damage anywhere."
Oh God, is she really defending him right now?
"Has Quinn Fabray gone soft?" Becky questions mockingly, having been standing off to the side this entire time.
"Shut it Jackson before I shut it for you." she snaps, giving the smaller Cheerio a withering look. It was undoubtedly her who had reported this information to Sue and next time she went out for patrol she was definitely going to have to remember to keep an eye out for the plucky little ewok. Maybe even set up a booby-trap or two to make things interesting (for her).
Sue leans back in her chair and grimaces. "Well I can't say that I'm all that surprised, Q. We all can't be as perfect as I am. Your faults were bound to show up eventually. Though I never thought being a werewolf's mate was going to be one of them. Nymphomaniac maybe."
Her eyes narrow questioningly before decidedly ignoring that nympho jab. "So you're not going to kick me off the team because of this, right?" she asks, still unsure. The last thing she needs is her whole career being flushed down the toilet just because of a stupid mongrel.
"Of course not." Sue says, waving a glib hand. "You're my best hunter and one of my best Cheerios. I'd be a fool to let your zoophilia get in the way of that."
"I don't have -"
"You know this little predicament might be a blessing in disguise for us." Sue continues, as if she hadn't noticed the interruption. She rises once more and walks over to her window. She peers out into the courtyard through the slats of the blinds. "Because as the almighty Sun Tzu once said 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer'."
Quinn can't help but shift uncomfortably in her seat, her coach's words resonating loud and clear. Infiltrating glee club was one thing but to have to do the same with those werewolves? No thanks. She doesn't want anything to do with them - especially their leader - and she most certainly doesn't want to spend her time pretending to befriend them in order to gain their trust.
"Can't we just leave them alone?" she sighs, prompting Sue to turn her attention back to them. "I mean, regardless of what my relationship is to their Alpha, I still want nothing to do with any of them."
"Well if they bother you so much, Q, then I'll simply take care of them myself. God only knows my den could use some new animal pelts. I'm tired of walking over bears." Sue promptly snaps her fingers at Becky, who jumps to attention. "Becky go get your shotgun and your dog whistle. We're going huntin'."
"For Wabbits?" Brittany inquires, suddenly paying attention to the conversation again.
"Coach, don't!" she says, rising from her chair. When she realizes just how fast she had reacted, her cheeks go a little flush. Damn it. "I mean it's not necessary." she amends, trying to regain a little composure (and her dignity). "I'll keep tabs on them for you. Make sure they don't do anything they shouldn't. Punish them appropriately if they do."
"Good."
She blinks - not expecting Sue to nod so agreeingly. The woman was like a Nazi with her rules and if they really wanted to get technical, yeah she kind of had been fraternizing with the enemy last night (Of course it wasn't by her choice - Jacob just didn't understand the concept of leave me alone) so for Sue to just brush it off like she did the Cheerio's abysmal grades was definitely out of the ordinary.
After all this is the same woman who beat the living daylights out of her for not taking care of the wolves like she should have and who once decided, on a whim, to blindfold her, Santana, Brittany, take them for a several hours long drive and desert them - telling them that if they failed to make it back to school before sunrise they would be demoted to the bottom of the pyramid.
A task which is kind of hard to accomplish when you're in New Orleans - a place, which apparently, is crawling with batshit crazy witches who either love or loathe Sue Sylvester.
But that's a story for another time.
"Now get back to training." Sue demands, looking to the three of them and snapping Quinn out of her thoughts. "Your presence is starting to bore me and I will not stand for it."
No one needs to be told twice so they start toward the door, with Santana eagerly leading the way. Quinn pauses by the door and calls out to Brittany who had gotten distracted by a spider near the window. She manages a small smile when the other blonde finally snaps out it and quickly scampers out of Coach's office. She sighs to herself, shaking her head as she follows after.
She's barely out the door when she hears Coach Sylvester call after them. "Remember if you don't get close to passing out you haven't worked hard enough!"
"Good job, ladies!" Quinn calls out to the squad, blindly clapping along to the beat of the band still playing out on the track.
Amped up Cheerios rush past her on their way into the locker room, cheering and hollering. It has nothing to do with the fact that their football team just won their game (ha, like that'd ever happen - this is McKinley) but rather the elaborate new routine they just showcased was (unsurprisingly) a huge hit.
Once everyone's inside she brings the door along with her until it closes. Slipping into HBIC mode, she gracefully enters the Cheerio's locker room and strides on through, her hands on hips. When she reaches the row of lockers where a majority of the girls change she promptly hops up onto the bench divider and blows out a whistle using her fingers.
After each performance she likes to give her team notes on what improvements need to be made for next time. And granted Sue does the same thing as soon as she gets back to the locker room (only in a louder, crueler manner and chairs may or may not be thrown in the process), she finds that if she talks the girls before Sue gets a hold of them, it better prepares them against her wrath of words.
It really helped to reduce the number of Sue-induced breakdowns.
"…and Kirsten you were wobbly up on your post. If I caught that you bet your ass Sue did so definitely work on your balance."
Luckily she finishes just in time for Sue to make her grand entrance, Becky trailing her like the lap dog that she is. Yelling ensues - of course - but it's relatively mild (to normal people it probably isn't even remotely categorized as that but, yeah) so the team just ducks their heads down and acts remorseful for not living up to Coach's impossible standards. They all know they'll be able to get out of here faster that way.
—
"So we're totally going to that party at Casey's right?" Santana asks, shouldering her duffel bag and closing her locker. She looks over at Quinn expectantly.
"Uh, no?" she responds, taking her own bag out of her locker and frowning. "We still have patrol to do, remember?"
Santana rolls her eyes, her arms crossing. "We can patrol after we gets our party on for a while."
Her brow quirks. "And face Sue's wrath when she finds out we ditched patrol?" she questions, scoffing. She shuts her locker. "No thanks."
Santana follows her out of the empty locker room with Brittany not too far behind. "We won't be ditching, Q. Just delaying for a little while. C'mon we're the three most popular girls in school - we have to be there. We're like, morally obligated to."
"You say that about every party, Santana." she sighs, shaking her head. "Look, if you and Britt want desperately to go to this party I guess I can pull double duty for a few hours..."
"But we want you to go too." Brittany says, skipping forward and linking pinkies with Santana. "Two's a crowd but three is a party."
Santana turns her head toward the taller blonde. "I think you got that a little jumbled up, babe." she says gently.
"C'mon, Quinn." Brittany begs, reaching out and tugging on her Cheerios letterman's jacket. "We promise you'll have fun."
"It's no use, Britt." Santana says with a dramatic sigh. She places a consoling hand on the blonde's shoulder. "Q here would much rather start on patrol than party with us. No doubt so she can rendezvous with her new werewolf lover." she smirks, earning a glare from Quinn.
"Oh. Why didn't you just say so?" Brittany wonders, frowning curiously.
"I just don't want to get in trouble with Sue." she huffs, fishing for her car keys as they near the student parking lot. "This has nothing to do with the mongrel."
"What has nothing to do with me?" a voice says from behind, and Quinn whips around so fast that her ponytail slaps Santana in the face. "Damn you, Fabray." the girl swears, hand flying to cover her eye. "Trying to blind me?"
"What are you doing here?" she demands, ignoring Santana entirely. She folds her arms across her chest, indicating that she was not pleased in the slightest to see Jacob or the ragtag bunch of wolf buddies he had with him.
He steps forward enabling her to see just how taut his muscles were underneath the fabric of his shirt. She ogles for about half a second. "Your football team sucks." he informs, chuckling slightly like he thinks he's being clever or something. "Like really bad."
Santana rolls her eyes. "Tell us something we don't already know, Toto." she responds dryly, shoving her hands deep in the pockets of her jacket.
"You actually went to the game?" Quinn asks, eyes narrowed, not so much in suspicion as in curiosity. "Why?"
"They had nothing better to do. Obviously." Santana answers, slightly bored as her eyes fit over each of the wolves. She smirks. "What - finally got tired of sniffing each other's butts?"
Jacob decidedly ignores her, his gaze flickering back to Quinn. "We happen to enjoy football and heard there was a game tonight." he says in response to her question.
"We definitely would've thought twice about going though if we had known the teams playing sucked ass." the wolf to Jacob's left adds, shaking his head. Like his Alpha he was freakishly tall but had more of a slender build to his body. "Total waste of time not to mention money."
The wolf to Jacob's right scoffs at that remark. "What are you griping about, dude? I'm the one who paid, remember?" Though shorter than the previous wolf, this one had much more muscle.
The four of them all have the same cropped hair making them resemble some kind of cult. Or boy band.
"You guys were awesome though. Great halftime show." the fourth wolf pipes up, addressing her and the girls. With his gangly build and youthful face he looks the least threatening - though not to say that they were threatened by any of them. They could totally kick their asses if it came down to it.
"You have the face of a baby." Brittany deadpans, definitely voicing what Quinn and Santana were both thinking - she does that a lot. "I feel like I should diaper you and give you a bottle."
Two of the wolves crack up at that comment while the baby-faced wolf just frowns - no doubt out of confusion on whether or not Brittany was being serious or just joking.
If only she was just joking. If only.
"Well if you didn't already guess this is my pack." Jacob speaks up, briefly gesturing to the three guys at his side. He first points to his left. "This is Embry." Then his right. "And Quil." He inclines his chin toward babyface, smirking. "And that's Seth. He's the youngest clearly."
Quinn shifts her weight and exhales deeply, reluctantly introducing her two best friends though she would much rather leave. "This is Santana and Brittany."
"So where you guys headed? Patrol?" Jacob asks, his gaze naturally falling back to her. She really wishes it didn't. It makes her uncomfortable and yet…
Shaking her head, she quickly squashes that thought before it can come to fruition.
"Actually we're going to a party." she replies boredly. "A private one."
She makes sure to throw in that distinction because the last thing she wants is them thinking they can just tag along.
"Oh you mean the one being thrown by your cute teammate?" The one called Embry questions, smiling slightly. "Casey, right? We got an invite to her party actually."
"She definitely had the hots for Jake." Quil smirks, nudging Jacob in the ribs. The latter rolls his eyes and pushes him away.
Quinn can't help but do the same - roll her eyes, that is - which apparently Santana catches sight of. "Jealous, Q?" she whispers teasingly, leaning into her shoulder.
She doesn't even bother to dignify that with anything more than a glare.
"Great. So we can head over there together." Jacob proposes, nodding.
"Aren't you guys a little old to be going to a high school party?" Santana questions, eyes narrowing. "You're like twenty-five."
"We're nineteen, actually." The one called Quil speaks up. "Well except Seth - he's seventeen."
"Fantastic." she says, heavy on the sarcasm. "Now leave us alone would you? For once?" she snaps, turning on her heel and starting across the parking lot.
She's beyond sick and tired of these random werewolf run-ins. They were just like those targets in the virtual shooting ranges at the arcade, appearing out of nowhere; only difference is she can't shoot them down like she wants.
Stupid mongrel.
"I guess that's a no to going together." Jacob assumes, unfazed by Quinn's moody exit. He shrugs a second later. "Oh well, we'll just see you guys there." he says to Santana and Brittany who were already half turned to follow in her footsteps.
Santana scoffs back at him, eyebrow quirked. "Can you say stalker much?"
"Stalker much." Brittany answers, smiling. Santana can't help but return the gesture and she links pinkies with her; the two of them then continuing on their way, completely forgetting about the lingering presence of the wolves.
—
"I can't believe we're doing this." Quinn says through gritted teeth, marching up the front steps to the only house on the block flooded with teenagers and obnoxiously loud techno music.
"Hey you're the one who said we were going to Casey's party." Santana reminds, half a step behind her along with Brittany.
"I only brought this stupid party up in front of the dogs because I thought if I didn't they would just end up following us out on patrol or something." she says, frustrated. Shaking her head, she huffs. "This is all your fault."
Santana raises her shoulders innocently, crossing the house's threshold. "What can I say? Seeing lover boy grate your nerves down to a nub is just too entertaining a spectacle to ever have to miss out on. Besides whatever goes down between you two at this party will most definitely be more interesting than anything that's bound to happen on patrol."
"Also, it's not my fault you have an unhealthy obsession with pork that is just so easy to exploit."
"If you were really my friend you wouldn't have preyed on my weakness to get what you want." she glares, meanwhile flashing back to their conversation in the car that took place not fifteen minutes ago.
"Look, if we go to this party I promise I will personally bring you a BLT sandwich or bacon cheeseburger or any other bacon containing food for lunch everyday until I croak."
Quinn sighs, slightly annoyed. Whether she likes it or not when it comes to bacon, no matter what the circumstances, she just can't say no. It's like her kryptonite.
And the bitch totally knows it.
Her eyes narrow into a scathing glare. "I hate you."
"I'll take that as a 'yes'." Santana smirks, leaning back in her seat triumphantly when Quinn takes the turn toward Casey's house.
"I can't believe Casey invited them." Quinn murmurs to herself, the crowd parting like the Red Sea for her as she makes her way down the hall. "The whore. She is so going to pay come Monday's practice."
Santana leans in toward Brittany as they follow in Quinn's wake. "Another girl tries to stake a claim on her man and le bitch rises." she snickers.
Brittany frowns. "San, you know I can't speak French." she says softly.
—
So, yeah, she's not totally surprised that Santana and Brittany had ditched her within ten minutes of their arrival but that doesn't mean she hadn't expected better. She knows she's not exactly what you'd call a 'party' person but still, they're the ones who insisted she come along, the least they could have done was at least attempt to hang around for awhile.
Besides, what the happened to all that nonsense Santana was spouting about her wanting to be there to watch her and Jacob go at it? Whatever. Just goes to show how fickle the girl was.
Shaking her head, Quinn sighs to herself and using her pocket knife, continues to fashion a stake out of a fallen tree branch she had picked up. As a vampire hunter one can never have too many stakes and seeing as how she currently has nothing better to do…
She hears the door to the bedroom open and involuntarily she turns her head, half expecting two intoxicated teenagers to come stumbling through in search of an unoccupied bed. But to her dismay it isn't - though not to say she was disappointed at not witnessing such a spectacle (cause ew). Instead it's just the lone Alpha wolf.
She really should have thought to lock the door.
"Hey." he greets, closing the door behind him and walking over to the open window. (Did she mention she was hanging out on the roof?).
"Hi." she echoes, reluctantly, before turning back around to resume what she was doing. In a perfect world he would take this as a sign to scram, but of course this is reality so that doesn't happen.
"What are you doing up here?" he wonders, stepping through the window and carefully shuffling down the side of the house toward where she was sitting. "Here I got you something."
Out of the corner of her eye she sees some type of bottle being offered to her but she doesn't pay it any close attention. "I don't drink." she murmurs.
"It's lemonade." he says, his hand still extended. "Snapple, actually."
Her gaze flickers and grudgingly, she takes the bottle. "Thanks." she says dryly. She sets it in between her legs while fleetingly noting that the plastic seal hasn't been tampered with - ruling out the possibility that he had added anything to it.
Regardless she still doesn't plan on drinking it.
"Cute uniform by the way." he says, settling down beside her. "Almost makes you look normal."
Her eyebrow quirks unwittingly. "Almost?" she repeats.
"The stake and knife in your hands kind of defeat the picture." he nods, smirking against the rim of his drink.
She rolls her eyes, shaking her head. "What do you want Jacob?" she asks, really in no mood for small talk. When she finally allows her gaze to meet his she can't help but notice that his eyebrows had lifted. "What?" she questions, brow furrowed.
"You actually called me by my name." he says, surprised. "That's gotta be a first."
"Oh." she falters for a second, then quickly dismisses it. "Yeah, well don't get used to it. So what are you doing here?"
He chuckles. "Just trying to have some fun." he responds, looking ahead. "The guys need to let loose every once in a while. You know, mingle."
"I meant here in Lima." she corrects, pocketing her knife. "You guys obviously aren't from around here and I want to know why you're here in my town and why you won't leave."
"Trying to track down the bloodsucker who killed my best friend." he retorts, his tone surprisingly serious for once.
She stops twirling her new stake around in her hand, caught off guard by that remark. She doesn't know what else to say aside from the habitual "I'm sorry."
He gives a small shrug, taking another sip from his drink. "As for why we haven't left, well," he pauses, his gaze reverting back to her. "I think you already know the answer to that."
"So it is true then." she murmurs, sighing softly. Not that she's surprised or anything. "We are…" she gestures between them, not willing to say it aloud.
He nods, his gaze flickering away. "We're…connected. Yeah." If she didn't know any better she would say he was about as excited about all this happening as she was.
"And there's no getting rid of it?" she questions, even though she pretty much knows the answer already. Still, it doesn't hurt to ask.
"Irreversible, sorry." he mutters regrettably, his head shaking slightly.
"Yeah, well…" she exhales, shrugging as her words drift off. She picks up her drink and twists off the cap, then takes a small sip.
"No, I mean it." he says, this time around sounding more sincere. She can feel his eyes on her again but she stubbornly keeps her attention fixated on the boisterous backyard down below. Even from up here she can make out the familiar faces.
"I am sorry. Believe me when I say I didn't want this to happen anymore than you did." He averts his gaze; his hands clenching. "I was doing just fine without a mate and sure as hell wasn't looking to find one any time soon." He throws his head back, up to the sky, scoffing bitterly. "The universe just has it out for me I guess."
"You and me both." she murmurs, in the same tone, raising her drink again. She savors the bittersweet taste for a moment before hesitantly asking the question that's been floating around in her mind.
"So how do we go about this whole thing?" she wonders, recapping her drink. "I mean, as much as I want you gone, if we're connected I assume that's not going to happen."
He shrugs, at a loss. "I don't know to be honest." he sighs, running a hand through his cropped hair. "It's not like I've been through this before. I guess -"
A surprise to them both, Jacob is suddenly cut off by a high pitched whistle being blown. The two of them share a quick, questioning look before extending their necks and peering over the edge of the house, the sharp sound almost sounding like it was meant to get their attention.
"Santana?" she frowns, confused at the sight of the Latina down below. "What do you want?"
Santana throws up both hands, exasperated. "I leave Brittany alone on the dance floor for like a second to use the bathroom and when I come back she's gone." she yells, her head tilted back. "Have you seen her? Oh, hey dog breath." she adds, noticing (and smirking at) Jacob's presence.
"I'll be right down." she calls down to Santana, already pushing herself to her feet. God only knows what kind of trouble Brittany can get into unsupervised, especially if she has alcohol in her system - which she undoubtedly does.
"I'll check the upstairs, maybe's she's up here. You know how she sometimes gets lost in people's closets."
Santana nods. "I'll continue looking around down here. Maybe she's in the garage or something…" she drifts off, then disappears back into the house just as Quinn carefully makes her way inside; Jacob following close behind.
"She's close by." he assures instantly - she's pretty sure she just heard him sniff the air and yeah, it's weird but whatever, he's a dog.
"Right." she says, blinking before yanking the bedroom door open, the force of which nearly hit him in the face. Had she not been otherwise preoccupied she probably would have chuckled.
She goes out into the hallway, her heart rate picking up speed in the process. The sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach is urging her to act as fast as she can and she quickly looks to her left and then her right. Just as she was about to head in one direction, she feels Jacob's hands on her waist, gently guiding in the other.
She quickly swats his hands away, her cheeks going a little flush at the contact. Thankfully though, since he's behind her, he doesn't catch it. She promptly shakes it off and continues down the hall in a hasty manner, her unease growing.
"Quinn!" She comes to an abrupt halt prompting Jacob to bump into her. She glares at him briefly for it before catching sight of Santana jogging up the last of the stairs. "Did you find her?" she questions, slightly breathless. "Cause I looked for her everywhere downstairs. No one's seen her."
"She's in here." Jacob interrupts, gesturing to the door at the very end of the hallway. He jiggles the door handle but of course it's locked. He takes a step back, preparing to knock it down himself but Santana beats him to it, all but pushing him out of the way.
"Britt! Brittany!" Santana doesn't wait for an answer before she kicks in the door like some kind of she-hulk (which she kind of is really but never say that to her face).
Once the door is out of the way Santana charges through like a bat out of hell with Quinn right on her heels.
The scene they come across instantaneously has them both seeing red - figuratively speaking, of course. No murders here or anything, well, at least not yet.
"What the hell? Get the fuck off of her!" Santana screams - like a banshee, she might add - before lunging at the football player who was half on top of what looked like a very out of it Brittany.
She barely even bats an eyelash when Santana grabs the guy by the collar of his letterman's jacket and throws him into the wall like a rag doll. She maneuvers instinctively to Brittany's side, fleetingly thinking to herself that if she had been in Santana's position she would have started off by throwing him through the window. But that's just her.
Shaking her head, she focuses on the task at hand and pats Brittany's cheek a few times, in attempt to get the blonde to awaken. "He definitely gave her something." she says to a preoccupied Santana, frowning slightly when her attempts to awaken Brittany don't work, at least not really.
"He most likely roofied her." The words are like bile on her tongue and her anger flares like that of a provoked animal. She reins it in though - for the time being at least.
Focus, Quinn, focus.
"Can you take her to my car?" she asks hurriedly, swiftly turning her attention to Jacob - who looked like he didn't know whether or not to pull Santana off of the guy she was currently beating to a pulp or to help her.
"Of course." he says, shaking his head of this dilemma and quickly moving toward her side. She wordlessly hands him her car keys before scooping up Brittany in her arms and then passing her over to Jacob. "We'll be right there." she assures, following him to the door.
She stops at the doorway and once he's out of sight, she pulls back and closes the door, locking it instantly. Her whole body is trembling slightly from all the adrenaline pumping through her veins and to combine that with the fury she has over the fact that Brittany had just been slipped a date-rape drug, well…let's just say it might just enable her to give Santana a run for her money in the volatile department.
"And this is why we don't go to parties." she mutters to herself, coming up behind Santana and prying her off the guy, who she now recognizes as the quarterback for the opposing team McKinley just played. Santana nearly hits her for getting in her way but restrains herself at the last second.
"You're not the only one who wants a piece of him." she says, her eyes narrowing at the furious death glare Santana was giving her. The Latina reluctantly steps aside, still fuming.
Without another word she hauls the crying - yes, crying - boy to his feet before shoving him back down to his knees. She grabs a hold of his right arm and pulls it back behind his body. Then keeps pulling it back, using all her strength. She can practically hear the muscle tearing. "Hope you didn't plan on making football your career." she says, over his anguished cries and pleads, yanking on his arm until she finally heard a 'pop'.
His agonized scream rebounds off the walls but the music from downstairs is so loud that probably no one even hears it.
She pulls him up again with her hand wrapped around his throat, her nails undoubtedly digging into the skin, choking him further. She unceremoniously slams his back into the wall.
"You even think for a second about telling anyone about this and you will have to wrath of one Sue Sylvester - is that clear?" The boy nods fearfully, because the name Sue Sylvester is infamous even outside the city of Lima. Hell she was known practically throughout the entire Midwest, and maybe Canada.
And of course Russia. She's like a god there.
"Good." She releases his throat and he sinks down the wall a little, coughing and gasping for air, his face like a cherry.
Sharply turning on her heel, she walks over to the closet. She assumes this room to belong to Casey's brother, what with the abundant amount of sports gear lying around and car magazines littered across the floor. She picks out two items from the disarrayed closet - a baseball bat and a tennis racket that looked like it never been used before - and hands one of them to Santana.
Since Brittany is Santana's girlfriend she allows the Latina use of the bat.
"Here, San." she says, handing over said item while meanwhile flashing the football player a sinister smile. "Go to town."
And she does.
Quinn waits a few moments before joining in.
—
Being that the guy is human, they don't kill him - though they most certainly would have had no problem doing so -instead they have to settle for inflicting so much damage to him that he will probably have to spend the next few months in a full body cast.
Together they leave Casey's house and head down the sidewalk, side by side, to where her car is parked a few spaces over. Jacob, as well as the rest of his pack, are standing around it, surveying the area like guard dogs who dare anyone to come near the car. Santana immediately quickens her pace in her haste to get to Brittany.
"Hey." Jacob visibly relaxes when he sees her walking toward him - er, them. "What happened?"
"Nothing, really." she says, slightly distracted by the blonde in the backseat of her car and the brunette fussing over her. "We should be getting home."
"Shouldn't you take her to a hospital?" Jacob questions, turning his head and nodding toward her.
She shakes her head, already making her way toward the driver's side. "Can't. Besides she'll be fine in a little while. You guys aren't the only ones who heal fast." she explains, catching sight of their confused glances.
She reaches for her door but pauses halfway, her hand falling to her side. She turns and meets Jacob's gaze, smiling faintly. "Thank you." she says in what she hopes is a sincere sounding tone. "For you know, helping."
He nods, shrugging his shoulders like it was nothing. "Any time."
She nods and pulls open her car door, lips slightly pursed. "See you." she throws out just before getting in.
And when Jacob fails to respond right away, his pack mates do so for him. "See you around, Quinn." they echo in unison, the three of them waving brightly at her from the sidewalk.
She can't help but smile - both at their endearing charm and the fact that they successfully mortified Jacob.
—
After dropping off Santana and Brittany at the former's house, she drives home to change out of her Cheerios uniform before she has to head out again. Sue would kill her if she gets blood on it.
She's pretty exhausted but someone still needs to run patrol for the night and since Santana would rather set her foot on fire that leave Brittany's side right now, it's up to her to see it through. Not that she minds though.
The whole near date-rape thing with Brittany has left her pretty shaken and she can't think of a better way to work out the excess emotions than through killing vampires. Or ghouls. Or zombies. Or whatever she happens to come across tonight.
When she gets to her room and after she flicks the lights on the first thing she sees is his leather jacket lying on her bed.
The same jacket she distinctly remembers disposing of in the trashcan out back before she left for school this morning. Shaking her head, she picks it up off her comforter and drapes it over her desk chair on her way to the bathroom.
It's when she reemerges from the bathroom, now clad in more 'patrol appropriate' clothes, when she hears something hit her window. Cautiously, she walks toward the wall and when she peers down her window she can't help but shake her head in complete disbelief.
She pushes her window up and ducks her head out to properly glare at the werewolf currently in her backyard. "What do you think you're doing?" she hisses. She has neighbors - nosy ones at that - and if they see a hulking young man in her backyard there's no telling what kind of rumors will start flying.
"Take it easy, Buff. I come in peace." he chuckles, holding up a hand in mock surrender. "I also come bearing bacon." he adds, holding up a white paper bag with the local burger joint label on it. The grin on his face says it all.
She purses her lips, her anger quickly dissipating even though she doesn't necessarily want it to. "I'll be right down." she murmurs, her head shaking at her own inability to resist anyone who offers her bacon.
Stupid mongrel.
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