When thou shalt be before the radiance sweet Of her whose beauteous eyes all things behold, From her thou'lt know the journey of thy life. – Inferno, Canto X, Sixth Circle: The Heretics

Somehow she had passed out, she wasn't sure what happened and how she had ended up with a blank memory in her mind, but she knew that she had woken up in a large banquet hall, sitting at the head of the table, with food and drink laid out for her.

She wasn't alone, either. There were so many people, sitting around the table, filling golden goblets with wine or water, chatting amongst themselves. They were all dressed so nicely, and as she looked down, she realized she was too. She looked back up at her company, and cleared her throat slightly.

Only one man turned to look at her, his eyes boring deep into hers, smiling at her softly as she stared back at him. "Yes?"

"Urm…what is it?"

"Oh, forgive us! We were too caught up in our conversation! Welcome to Heresy, Miss Lopez!" he grinned, spreading his arms slightly. "As always, the rules are that you must resist our advances to you to survive, but fear not, the food and drink are not enchanted, that much we can assure you of. Eat and drink to your heart's content, you won't regret it later!"

"Why not?"

"You need to replenish your energy! We've already let you sleep until you were fine, now you can eat and drink until you're full, and you'll have enough energy to face the rest of the Circles!"

"So…what's this section again?"

One of the people sitting around the table pushed a plate filled to the brim with seafood, and smiled at her. "Heresy. Nothing to battle or to face here, just a civilized meal and a chat over said meal. Are you ready?"

"I…I guess."

"Let's begin!"

"Do you believe in God?"

"You know I do, B."

"Well, why don't you go to church anymore?"

"They don't like me…"

"Because you're gay?"

"Pretty much."

"So, let's talk," one of the people around the table supped at his drink and looked at her square in the eye, watching her as she bit into a forkful of steak. "Why are you down here?"

"I'm looking for someone," she answered warily, washing down the steak with a sup at her goblet, feeling her mouth fill with the taste of root beer.

"Friend? Lover? Familiar?" a woman asked, passing her a bowl of steamed vegetables.

"Lover."

"Oh, who? Maybe we might know him!" a young woman, no older than her tittered, giving a small clap. "I bet it's that lovely Sam Evans! The one who died in war? Oh, wait, can't be, he's a homosexual…"

"Something tells me that's the case with our living friend here too, darling," a man sitting next to her said gently, narrowing his eyes at Santana. "Are you?"

"I'm looking for a woman, if that's what you're asking."

"Ah. What happened?"

"She died, what else?"

"May she rest in peace."

"Amen," the entire congregation said together. It took her a while to speak, and she simply stared at the ground, swallowing back mouthfuls of air, trying to stay calm. Quinn nudged her shoulder, and she sucked in a gulp of air and breathed it out in one word.

"Amen."

"How unfortunate. But, I guess not really. Everyone has to die in the end, it's what humans do. Get born, live, sleep, eat, fuck, die. It's a grand life!"

"Yeah, with a lot of complications in between."

"Nothing a little bit of faith doesn't fix, am I right?" a fat bellied man bellowed from the other end of the table, giving a heart guffaw and shoveling a spoonful of rice into his mouth.

"Urm, yeah, faith."

"Oh, are you not a believer? Have we…offended you?" one of the men from before asked, giving her a malicious grin, an awful, demeaning stress on the last two words. "Are you an atheist? Agnostic?"

"No, I just…I don't know. God doesn't particularly like me, or so I'm constantly told back up there." Here, she raised her eyes to the beautiful, ornate ceiling, frowning slightly. Up there. It felt like years since she'd last been in the living world. Had anything changed? Was anyone looking for her? Or maybe no time at all had passed… Maybe this place was like Narnia and all the time she spent down here was just a fraction of a second up there. Or maybe time just froze up there while it went on down here.

Down here.

She was speaking as if she belonged in Hell now.

"By who are you told this?"

"Most overzealous people." She coughed once, clearing her throat, and held a finger up to the air, her voice taking on a high pitched mimic. "'You're going to hell, you're a sinner, atone for what you've done, change the way you are, God didn't make you this way!' Bullshit!" She spat the last word, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms and legs defensively. "Well, if God doesn't want me, so be it. I don't need God!"

"Why not?"

She jumped at the voice, thinking it was her usual demon visitor in her mind, threatening her every step of the way in this hell hole (no pun intended…at all). But it was just one of the people at the table who had been, previously, silent. He was large, a giant for sure, sitting at the head of the table, glaring her down. She was surprised that she hadn't noticed him before. He was huge. But maybe the fact that he had been quiet had prevented her from noticing him… He hadn't made a single sound before now.

"Why not?" he asked again, emphasizing the last word.

"Because…well, He takes away all the people I love from me, He has all his followers tell me I'm a sinner just because I choose to love someone that isn't a man, He goes around making my life hell on earth and I'm just here thinking 'It's alright, good things come to those who wait', but they never do. Because He doesn't care about me, he's got bigger problems. I'm just a tiny little speck, a dent in his plan. He doesn't care about me."

"Dents become bigger, they can cause holes, big problems."

"He still wouldn't care enough to fix it."

"How are you so sure?"

"Because he took away the one thing in my life that was important to me…" she looked down at her hands, at the still visible white scars on her wrists, and sighed. "And because when I tried to end my own life, I was saved."

"Rachel, why did you save me?" she asked, holding back tears as she stared at the tiny brunette standing beside her in that bleak white hotel room.

"Because I want you to live, Santana."

"Well I don't want to live anymore! Not without Brittany!" she yelled, the ECG monitor skipping a beat before rapidly pumping away as her heart rate increased, as sobs racked her body, as she struggled against the IV drips. "I'm not gonna make it in this world without her! I don't want to!"

"So you went against everything the religion teaches…and tried to kill yourself?" a woman asked, and Santana shrugged.

"Yeah, so?"

"So! That is a big deal! Suicide is a no-go, all Catholics know that! Your life isn't yours to take, it's God's!"

"Well, he's doing a horrible job of it, lemme tell you that!" Santana growled. "Isn't He supposed to listen to us when we really need him, answer our prayers? For years I prayed that maybe somehow I would wake up and I'd be dead and I'd be with her again! And I never did. Never! Because he doesn't listen, he doesn't care!"

She paused, thinking carefully about what she was going to say next, and rose off her chair.

"I don't even think he really exists anyways."

The whole group at the table froze, forks stopping mid air and goblets toppling over still filled with drink.

She watched as the whole group started to suddenly, slowly and simultaneously rise from their chairs, glaring at her, their eyes suddenly growing darker, hair slicker, bodies leaner and nails growing longer and becoming talons.

She gulped, moving backwards, tripping over her chair and sprawling backwards, bruising her elbow and back. She closed her eyes, untangling herself from the chair and moving back on the floor, a whimper coming from her closed throat.

She thought she heard a large collective yell, and then a bright flash of light penetrated her closed eyelids. She cracked open one eye and stared at the orb of white light swirling in mid air, and the puffs of black smoke that was all that was left of the demons she had been facing earlier.

She stared at it, watching as it started to spin faster in the air, lightning bolts cracking out of it and striking centimeters from the soles of her feet, scorching the ground. It started to grow larger, taking on a form, and Santana closed her eyes and covered her face with her arms, praying rapidly under her breath that no harm would befall her from this strange new possibly foe.

"Hey, sweetcheeks!"

Her arms flung off her face and she rushed onto her feet at the familiar voice, staring with a wide grin at the vision of a white clad Holly Holliday.

"Miss H! What…what are you doing here?" She froze, suddenly her eyes growing wide with realization. "Are you dead too?"

"No, no, I'm not Holly, I'm just a representation of her. I'm the form of a person you feel safe around."

"Then…who are you?"

"I'm one of the Virgils."

"…What?"

Holly – or what looked like Holly – sighed and sat down on the table, crossing her legs delicately. "Well, we're a group of friendly, faceless, genderless spirits, who are sort of like the Guardians of any brave Dante-types who venture down here looking for their Beatrice. And I'm your Virgil."

"Oh…"

Santana stood silent for a while, processing all this, before she walked closer. "Why didn't you show up earlier?"

"You didn't seem like you needed my help earlier, you were doing fine. But these demons were about to rip you apart. I saved you. Just be thankful you're alive and can go on to the next level."

"Am I close? To the end, I mean. To her."

Holly smiled and reached a hand out, brushing it against her dark skin, the feeling of an angel touching Santana sending feathers down her spine as energy coursed through her, mending her bruises and pulsing through her blood.

"Very close, actually. You'll be there soon. I promise." She cleared her throat and closed her eyes. "When thou shalt be before the radiance sweet of her whose beauteous eyes all things behold, from her thou'lt know the journey of thy life."

"Miss H?" Holly turned at the voice and smiled at Santana, giving her a small wave.

"Hey, sweetcheeks."

"Thanks for coming…" Santana sighed, walking into the woman's embrace. "I…Britt liked you."

"It's alright, honey. I'm glad I could come." Holly tightened her grip around Santana and sighed. "I'm so very sorry she had to die. She was so young…"

"I know."

"Santana?" Holly entered the room and stared at the girl, weak in the bed and staring up at the ceiling, the marks on her wrists still so very clear. "Hi."

"Hi, Miss H."

"I wanted to see you…"

"I appreciate."

"Are you alright?"

Santana scoffed and held up one arm. "Does this look alright to you? I'm a mess! She's dead and I wish I was too…"

Holly moved forward and sighed. "Sweetcheeks, I'm so sorry. If I could do anything for you, if I could bring her back, I would."

"Miss H? There is something I want you to do."

Santana paused, and gestured to the empty seat near her bed. "Please, sit, and just…keep me company."

Holly gave her a watery smile before following her instructions and taking Santana's outstretched hand in her own, watching the girl, so frail and weak and small and emptied of her fire, slowly break down and self destruct before her.

"I thought you'd never ask."