Recap: Quinn wakes up and goes to take a shower, hearing a beautiful and mesmerizing voice singing, right before she mysteriously passes out. Late, she rushes to her next class with the cruel Cassandra "Crazy" July who has a grudge against her for a previous class her freshman year. Under an assignment to write about anything, she writes about a blind girl who found her freedom through the wings of a bird and their intimate relationship. Santana, conversely, writes about vampires. Santana passes easily and Quinn is sent back to try again.
I'm sorry if this is re-posting but I don't think it went through the first time so I took this chapter down and re-posted it.
The Bella's
Santana's POV
"San? San, wake up." I can feel somebody nudging me insistently. Obviously they're trying to do it gently, but it's not. Whoever is waking me up is persistent and annoying, which can only mean one thing…
"Britt, what the hell?" I moan out groggily, trying to shield out the light and shove her away. I am a creature of the night. This up-and-at-'em-in-the-morning shit isn't going to cut it. Just five more minutes…
"San, wake up, I need to tell you something important!" she says giddily. I open my eyes ever so slightly, still adjusting to the harsh rays of sun shining through my all-too-open window. She's sitting there with the dumbest expression on her face and enough energy to have sucked 10 people dry.
"Who did you kill?" I ask dryly. I let out a large yawn as I snuggle deeper into the covers.
"What?" she asks. "I didn't kill anyone."
"Then it can wait until after 10." I quip back.
"But it can't."
"I think it can," I respond. I can feel myself drifting back into the beautiful darkness of sleep. Maybe I'll keep dreaming of Quinn and how very, very naked she was. Wait… Quinn?
The subject of my R-rated dream hits my suddenly conscious brain in the same way I imagine being hit by a bullet train might feel. I can't be dreaming about that. The moment I allow myself to fall down the rabbit hole, even subconsciously, there's no climbing out. I have to focus on living in the now and living for me. I can't keep fucking up her life.
"What's up, Britt?" I ask, hoping to focus my attention anywhere else. I almost find myself praying for some war between the Maleficiī or a month long exam. I just need something to distract me right now.
"I think I met my mate!" I resist the urge to roll my eyes.
"Okay, what did it feel like?" I indulge her.
"Well, he had the most beautiful eyes," she says dreamily. "And when he spoke… mmm." I can see a shiver almost imperceptibly run down her spine. "And his blood… O-Positive. It smelled so good. It tasted as sweet as… a stick of peppermint."
"Okay," I say calmly. "When you first saw them, what was your initial thought?"
She pauses for a moment, her tongue sticking out of her mouth as she recalls her emotions. "How incredibly hot he was."
I nod my head. Okay, reasonable. That's how pretty much every mate feels when he or she truly meets his or her soul mate. "What was different about him?"
"I just felt… drawn to him. Like everything in the universe was drawing me in," she says. Again, I concede. Maybe she has met her mate after all.
Finally, I ask my last question. "Did you feel this overwhelming need to protect him? Would you have given your life if he'd asked, even though you've never met him."
She pauses again. I see a frown emerge on her face and cloudiness in her eyes. "Well… no, but I figured maybe that comes later after knowing them."
"Britt, I'm pretty sure he was just a really delicious looking guy. The moment you meet your mate… You just know. There's this overwhelming need to do any and everything for them. It's so much deeper than anything sexual or even hunger related. It's this-"
"Intense emotional connection," she interrupts, finishing my sentence. She rolls her eyes and begins to pout. "I know. You've told me that a thousand times before. I just… I really thought it could be him."
I put a comforting hand on top of hers. Brittany's been searching for her soul mate since the day I told her that everybody – whether Maleficiī or human – has one. It's always been this way. Every couple of months she'd come running to me, insisting that she met her soul mate for one reason or another. She's obviously never had any experience with a soul mate; especially not in the ways I have, so she just can't distinguish. The day she does find whoever she's looking for though, she'll know. Everybody she ever knew or thought might be the one will fade away. She'll know when it really does happen.
"Well… I'm surprised to see you're here," Brittany says, keeping her mind off of another 'love lost.'
"What do you mean?" I ask, rubbing any sleep left from my eyes.
"Well I mean, neither one of us is usually here. We both meet up after our mutual walks-of-shame," she replies.
"Hey, when I leave in the morning it's never a walk of shame. It's a march of pride," I counter.
She giggles, but it's not the same as it normally is. She always gets into a sort of somber mood for about a day whenever this happens. She just wants to find love, but it's hiding pretty damn well. "Okay Ms. Sex Kitten," she says that dopey voice I love.
"And I mean, I was out for some of the night. I got in my usual night of fun, leggy brunette and all."
"Whop there it is," Brittany interjects. She's been quoting that Pitch Perfect movie religiously ever since seeing it.
I glare at her playfully. "I just left in the middle of the night. I didn't feel too much like staying so I came back here to crash."
"How unlike you Santana," Brittany banters back. "A brunette? You haven't had one of those in awhile."
Immediately I remember exactly why, bringing on a whole new wave of sadness. I've always been a blonde's sort of girl. My soul mate's been every single skin tone and every single hair color under the sun, but for some reason I've still always had a bit of a thing for blondes. Now though, my soul mate is a blonde and I can't have anything to do with her. "Yeah well, I'm trying to avoid them or now."
"Why?" she asks, befuddled. "Does this have to do with Quinn?"
I chuckle. "Well, when the one girl who you can't be with is who you're supposed to be with you try to disassociate from all things her," I say dryly. It's supposed to come off humorous, making fun of my own problems, but all it tastes like is bitter.
"Well, you're going above and beyond the call of duty," Brittany replies. I snort, but I'm not laughing. She sends me a sad smile. Suddenly, she throws on a beaming, overly happy smile. It should be fake. Nobody should be able to change moods that fast, but Brittany's always been awful at staying sad. "You look like you need a hug." She throws her arms out in front of her and begins to wiggle her fingers, coaxing me in next to her.
Eventually, the two of us simply end up lying on the bed, my waist enveloped by her arms. Sometimes I wish I could just be with Brittany. I'd keep her safe and love her no matter what. She'd brighten my days and love me back. She's my best friend. We could be happy together. But we'd never be right together. I know that and she knows that. But sometimes I just wish I could be in her arms where things are so much simpler and she makes 2+2=4.
"You know I have an 8am, right?" I say through the silence.
"Good thing it's 5am. We've got three hours to sit here being lonely and heartbroken together."
***Blood***
"The world is just not giving me any breaks!" I groan angrily, collapsing on Brittany's bed.
"What happened?
"She's in my writing class."
"Who? Was it Lady Tubbington?" she asks seriously. "I thought I told her to stay with Lord Tubbington and Carmen the Cat Lady. I always knew this day would come, she's too much of an independent, strong-willed cat to be held down by a man like Lord Tubbington and his drug habits, but I didn't expect it so soon."
"Quinn."
"Wow, maybe the universe is trying to tell you something," Brittany muses.
"Yeah. It hates me just like the rest of the world." I let out a frustrated moan as I slam a pillow on top of my face.
"Nobody hates you," Brittany supports, getting up from her computer and moving to her bed.
"Tell that to the hundreds of people who have tried to kill me or, y'know, the people that cursed me," I retort.
"That's different." She begins running her fingers soothingly through my hair. She always knows exactly how to calm me down. "They don't hate you. They're just afraid."
"Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate," I begin to quote from Star Wars.
"And hate leads to the dark side," Brittany supplies the end. "They're succumbing to their dark side. They're the bad ones, which must mean you're good by default." I roll my eyes. How comforting. Good by default. "The universe favors good people."
"I'll believe it when I see it," I snort. "You're the best person I know and look what the universe did to you. It made you a vampire. It stole your life away."
She shakes her head vigorously. "No, it gave me a new life that's even better. It gave me a life with you in it." She sends me one of those smiles that brightens the room and makes you feel better just by association.
"Proving my point that the universe just fucks good people over," I reply. "You know this means I'm going to have to drop that class now, right."
"Okay. Is there another course of it can you take?"
"Yeah maybe, but I'll have to drop first year psych. I can always take that second semester," I shrug.
Brittany nods in agreement. Her fingers play with my air for a few more silent minutes before she gets that immediate zap of energy that seems to hit Brittany at least once an hour. "You know what you need? You need a fun distraction in a Quinn-free environment."
"You wanna have another fucking contest?" I ask eagerly. "We can make the stakes even higher. Instead of who can just sleep with more people within a week we make a daily limit on the week too. So you have to fuck with at least 3 people a day to avoid being disqualified, then we tally up at the end of the week."
Brittany laughs. "No silly. We all know I won that. I'm not looking for any sort of rematch."
"Afraid I'll beat you?" I wiggle my eyebrows, coaxing her into competition.
"As if. I was thinking more along the lines of the club fair that's happening. I know you're all no-school-spirit and school-sponsored-shit-is-for-nerds but you should give it a try."
"No."
"Why not?" she whines.
"Because school sponsored shit is for nerds."
"Come on San, do it for me? Pretty please!" She gives me the biggest, most begging puppy dog eyes in the world. "You should come. Maybe something will catch you eye. Pretty please with sugar and O-Negative blood on top!"
I roll my eyes. I never have been able to hold out against Brittany's puppy dog eyes. "Fine." I roll off the bed as she lets out a squeal. "Let's get going."
"What are the fucking odds she'd be in my class," I mutter angrily as I open the door to leave our dorm.
"Actually it was 50% chance."
***Life***
Five people take the stage, all standing in a line so we can see them. I admit, this is a pretty good turnout for an audition to join an a capella group. I still can't believe I let Brittany drag me here. Yes I love to perform, but this is sort of lame. I mean a college singing group is bad enough but a capella? I really wish there were other options.
A tall, oafish boy stands on the far left of the five-person line. "Welcome to the 2015 A Capella Auditions," he says. "I'm Finn Hudson and I'm the leader of the Treblemakers."
An attractive blonde cheerleader-type standing next to him speaks up next in next. "Hello, my name is Aubrey Posen,"
"And I'm Chloe Beale," a cheery redhead cuts in.
"And the two of us are the leaders of the campus' all girls group the Bellas," the blonde finishes smoothly. I notice her veins sticking out, her pulse beating rapidly. She's nervous… and I'm hungry.
The fourth guy steps up next. "I'm Ryder Lynn and this is Stacie Conrad," he says, motioning to the end of the line to his right. I immediately lose all respect for him due to his Justin Bieber haircut. The girl on the other hand… well, she's physically flawless. "We are the leaders of Tonal Recall."
"You have a minute and a half to sing a song of your choosing and you'll know in three days if you've been picked to join one of our groups," Chloe says enthusiastically. She reminds me of Brittany. They have the same smile, the kind that's just so infectious you can't help but want to smile back and you begin to wonder how it's possible for someone to have such a profound effect on you.
"If you have a specific preference to which group you'd like to join you can mention it and it'll be taken into account by each group leader," Bieber boy adds.
"Remember we all want for you to do well. There's no pressure as long as you have fun!" Finn sends us an awkward smile and an encouraging thumbs up as the five vacate the stage and into their seats where they'll be judging us all. I can add him to the list of people I dislike.
The auditions go by in a blur. As they continue on I find myself getting more and more excited. Watching everybody sing and letting the feeling the beat reminds me of singing and how much I truly do love it.
There are a few memorable auditons here and there. There was this one really good rapper who went up. Something about her just flowed with the beat as the rhymes slid off her tongue with ease. I don't really remember her name; I just remember she was good.
There was a guy too, Sam. He had the biggest, most pillow-y lips I've ever seen. I can't tell if that makes me want to fuck him more or if it's simply a turn off. Either way, his voice was still incredible. He put in a special request to join The Treblemakers.
"Um… Brittany Pierce and Santana Lopez?" The brunette, Stacie, calls out distractedly as she looks up from the nails she's filing to check whose name is next on the list.
Brittany grabs my hand nervously. I can practically feel her jittery excitement. That might also be because she's projecting her thoughts onto me. She's not doing it on purpose, but she's just so excited I can't help but hear them. They remind me of how a really enthusiastic puppy who needs to pee really badly sounds.
I take my place, just as we rehearsed, on towards the left of the stage. Britt proceeds to the center of the stage to announce what we're doing. "Hi, I'm Brittany. That's Santana." She motions in my direction. "We think it'd be really awesome to join The Bella's and we're going to sing 'Valerie' by Amy Winehouse."
She scurries off towards her side of the stage, sending me a reassuring smile as we both wait for the unheard beat to begin. As if on cue, we both begin.
Brittany begins singing immediately. She has this strong, beautiful voice that echoes throughout the halls and I can tell she's at least impressed most of the leaders. She's even vaguely caught Stacie's attention, if only for a split second.
Well sometimes I go out by myself
And I look across the water
The two of us dance the way we rehearsed, but honestly we could've just made it up on the spot and still have appeared to choreograph the piece months before. We knew each other well and playing off of each other way easy.
And I think of all the things, what you're doing
And in my head I paint a picture
She points her finger at me, making a cutesie motion as though we she were painting as I shimmy towards her.
We skip to the next verse where I begin to take over.
Did you have to go to jail?
Put your house up for sale, did you get a good lawyer?
Immediately I can feel the energy building up inside of me. It feels good to be on stage. It feels right. There's no anxiety and there's no nerves. It's exactly where I should be.
Brittany twirls as I sing along and all I know is how much I've missed this. I have to remember to thank Brittany for forcing me to do this as soon as its over.
I hope you didn't catch a tan
I hope you'll find the right man who'll fix it for ya
I let Brittany take center stage as I keep singing. I do some smaller movements in the background, a wave with my hand or a few back and forth moves with my feet that look more complicated than they really are, but she's the real focus right now. She's showing off exactly why, on top of math, she's majoring in dance.
And are you shopping anywhere,
Then, I hear a door open and scampering footsteps catch my attention.
Changed the color of your hair, are you busy?
I can feel my confidence and drive leaving me, like I'd been filled to the brim with the most amazing feeling in the world and then a flash flood came and wiped it out without any warning.
She's here and she's walking towards some of the other known members of The Bella's. I can tell she's not here as a supporting friend or because maybe she's an interested viewer of the arts. She's here because she's a Bella.
I came here to get away from her, as a distraction. I found something here I enjoyed that she couldn't taint with her perfection. And now she's here, which means I can't be anymore.
My body is working on autopilot. I'm not even sure if I'm dancing anymore. I know I'm still singing, but I barely even care anymore. All of my energy is focused on her.
And did you have to pay that fine
She looks really good. She looks gorgeous in fact. She's wearing a skirt, a far cry from the racy outfit she wore to creative writing class. It's not too short or anything, in fact it's rather conservative, but I still imagine all the things my hand could be doing under it. She's smiling and a hint of laughter comes out and all I can focus on is how melodic her laugh sounds.
I know nothing about her, at least not in this life, but I want to get to know her. The lamia in me wants to go up to her and kiss her, hold her hand, just be near her in any way and make sure she's happy. The human in me wants to do the same.
But I don't want to do that. I want to stay away from her, ironically because I love her too much. I need to get away from here.
You were dodging all the time are you still dizzy?
Thankfully, Brittany takes over now and her voice brings me back to the now. I can't leave now. Brittany's audition is riding on my performance too. I have another promise to fulfill, an unspoken one I've made to her. I'm never going to let her down or hurt her.
So I focus back in on the performance.
'Cause since I've come on home
Well my body's been a mess
I join in and sing with her as I play with her hair and her fingers run on my skirt.
And I've missed your ginger hair
And the way you like to dress
I run away from her playfully, just like we rehearsed, before stopping and making a coaxing motion for her to come towards me. The two of us grab hands and begin dancing to the upbeat sound of the song.
Won't you come on over
Stop making a fool out of me
Why don't you come on over Valerie?
Valerie
Valerie
Valerie
And then, the performance is over.
Everybody's eyes are on us. I can feel it. I can see Quinn's pulse racing just a little bit faster than usual and as the clapping continues I run out of there before I can do something I'll regret…
***Love***
I can hear footsteps following me out behind the closed doors. "San, what is it?"
"That girl that entered," I respond. "It was Quinn. I can't stay there and I definitely can't join."
"Oh San." I can hear the pity in Brittany's voice as clear as day, making me shrug off her hand as she tries to place it on my shoulder. I can tell without looking that she's hurt. "Maybe you could stick around though? You have the restraint of like, a thousand vampires," she suggests.
"It's so hard to control myself around her. You wouldn't understand. You've never met your mate," I say, brushing her off. I know as soon as I say it that it's sort of unfair. Every lamia has to deal with bloodlust and the fact that she has hers under control is never something I should underestimate.
"Santana, I know I've never met my soul mate or anything, but you have many, many times and you've been strong in every single one. You've been just friends before and you can do it again."
"That was different. I could still be around her, near her. I can't even be that now," I respond bitterly.
"Look, you can't just let her rule your entire life," Brittany says. She sounds serious, hard and serious. "I saw you on that stage before and you were so happy. You weren't that happy since you discovered that journal written by John Adams while you were exploring." I still smile at the thought. That had been my crowning achievement under my last identity as Michaela Turmique. "I just don't want to see you lose something you enjoy so much. Give it two weeks and… and if you still can't handle it you can drop out no muss no fuss. Please."
***Blood***
Quinn P.O.V
I love parties. I always have. When I was five years old I'd grab my pink, pet calendar and write in big red letters whoever's birthday party I'd been invited to and I'd count down the days. They were always such big events and I could see all my friends outside of school.
Middle school had even better parties. It's where you could pick up all the latest gossip on everybody and, if you paid really close attention, you could see much of the coming drama as it happened.
Even high school parties were great. I didn't go to the typical high school parties with all the football players and kegs and the bitchy cheerleaders. No, I went to parties in other kids' basements where the weed was plentiful, the keg was always brewing, and the Adderall had been scored that morning from all the ADHD kids. We were a tight knit group. There were no bustling bodies or faces you'd only see every Friday night. We saw each other almost every day and all just lounged on couches getting so high we'd sometimes just strip down naked or chase down a figment of our imaginations.
It wasn't until I reached college that I realized I hadn't ever been to a real party. Those were all gatherings or hangouts or loosely termed "parties," but colleg was where the real partying happened. All the frats would have alcohol and everybody would be dancing and nobody would be sober – even the designated driver would've sneaked a few cups – and your spirit would be so high from all the energy in the room you don't even need the alcohol.
My favorite party though, will always be the ones thrown by a Capella groups. It should seem lame, especially in comparison to frat parties, but a Capella parties are where are the talented people who can sing and really throw down are. There's no such thing as sloppy grinding at an a Capella party and when people dance it's not just jumping to the beat; there's full blown salsa dancing or hip hop or contemporary. Everybody can sing and everyone knows all of the latest songs with the best beat drops.
It's not even a party anymore. It's something more than that.
Everybody here is singing their lungs out or standing quietly off to the side flirting. The new baby Bella's are jumping around excitedly, getting to know the new and old Bella's, Treblemakers, and Recallers. I can already tell this is going to be a good year with all the new talent joining us.
As the song winds down I make my way through the massive crowd of bodies and towards the drinks. Singing your heart out and dancing until your feet hurt can be tiring.
The moment I reach for the can of beer– always reach for the unopened thing – another hand touches mine, causing me to jump back and let go of the can.
A blonde guy with slicked back hair, a sweet, country-boy smile, and a jawline to die for turns his head towards me. I recognize him from the auditions. His lips are so huge. "I uh… think this is yours," he says with awkward charm as he offers me the cold can.
"Yeah, thanks," I reply with a smile. I can already feel the blush heating up my cheeks as I accept the beer.
Suddenly, his face squinches up a little and he looks very serious. "Evans," he says in a deep voice unlike before. "Sam Evans."
I laugh. "I'm Fabray. Quinn Fabray," I respond in my normal voice. "And Your Bond impression is terrible." The smile slides off his face with a combination of hurt and joking. "What's your major?"
He stumbles for a second, still clearly caught off guard at my comment, "I'm studying uh to be a doctor with a minor in sports therapy," he replies. "What about you?"
"I'm undecided between writing, photography, and law but leaning towards the latter."
He nods, but his head is clearly somewhere else. "Okay, wait a second," his hands wave around in a stopping motion. "You don't like my Bond impression?"
I laugh. "No it was terrible," I respond with a smile.
"You will die of suffocation," he says, his voice lowering once again, "in the icy cold of space." He strikes a dramatic pose before leaning down into a bow.
"I really hope that was a movie quote and not a death threat," I respond jokingly.
"That was Kang!" he says in exasperation.
"Who?"
"From Star Trek!"
"Oh yeah, I saw that new one… Into Darkness?"
"Is that it?"
"Are there more?"
"Oh my god! How did you get into Yale with an education like this!" He's moving around erratically, his arms flailing everywhere. It's honestly kind of adorable. "There's Star Trek from 1966-1969," he begins ticking off each part of the franchise on his fingers, "and Star Trek: The Motion Picture, Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Century, and my personal favorite Star Trek: Next Generation."
"I just saw the Into Darkness one and didn't like it that much," I respond.
"Well of course you didn't! That was one of the new shitty ones. You have to go old school! Quinn Fabray?"
"Yes?"
"You and I are going to be good friends."
"Oh?" I raise one of my eyebrows. "Why is that?"
"Because," he puts his left arm around me as his right arm opens up across the sky, "You and I are going to have a Star Trek movie marathon and I'm going to open your eyes to a whole new world of movie and TV watching."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. Yes, Spock," he says with a dreamy look in his eyes.
"Spock… he's the guy with pointy ears right?"
He sighs dramatically. "Quinn! You wound me! He is so much more than that…"
Sam was a great character of perfectly average intelligence and then they just made him an idiot in season 4 to have him be with Brittany. It always felt like such a cop-out and a character change to me. And it always felt like the message was, "If you have dyslexia then you can't be smart." Untrue.
Anyways, Sam rant aside, I hope you enjoyed. Enjoy your fourth of July!
