Chapter Seven
Part One
Valencia, California 1753
The dark haired woman gripped the edge of the wooden table, throwing her head back and spreading her legs wider. Her breath was ragged and she stifled a moan that might provoke interest in the dark wine cellar. Smiling, she closed her eyes and concentrated on the sensations between her legs; her entire body shuddered.
"Oh!" she cried. Startled to hear herself exclaim so loud, she slapped a hand over her own mouth. "Oh! Oh! OH!" Her body went limp and her hands scrambled to catch the edge of the table and prevent herself from sliding to the floor.
She felt a pair of hands on her waist, holding her up. She opened her eyes and looked down. Santana Lopez rose from kneeling, freeing one hand to wipe her lips with her thumb. She smirked at the woman, leaning forward to kiss her. The woman turned her head and tried to move. Santana placed her hands on either side of her on the table.
"Don't…this is the last time," the woman pleaded. Santana said nothing, still smirking. Her face hovered close to the woman's face, their lips a whisper apart.
"That's what you said last time…" Santana said leaning in to whisper into her ear. "…and the time before that…and the time before that…and the first time…"
"If he finds us, he will kill you. He'll kill me!"
"You only worry afterwards. You seemed fine a few seconds ago, mami." Santana leaned forward and bit the woman's lower lip. The woman sighed and leaned into Santana, kissing her back hungrily. Santana's lips curled into a smile as the woman's leg hooked around Santana's waist.
Santana moved to roughly pull the woman's head back by her hair, her lips kissing gently on the woman's now bared throat. As her lips pressed against the woman's skin, her tongue flicked, eliciting a gasp. Santana smiled against her skin. She heard a second louder gasp and before she could register what was happening, she was flung across the floor. Santana's back collided with a wooden wine rack causing the bottles stored above her to jingle like bells.
There was a flurry of limbs, shouts of anger from a male voice and feeble pleading from a female voice. Santana soon found herself face down in the dirt outside the tavern, her lip bloodied, her eye threatening to bruise by sunup. She slowly sat up, spitting red dirt and running her tongue along her lip to assess the damage.
"That's going to leave a scar," a woman's voice spoke from nearby in the dark alleyway.
Santana didn't bother to look up. "A scar might add some texture, I could use that to my advantage. Mamis might like me even better, if that's possible."
The voice erupted in high-pitched laughter. "You're the optimistic one. I like that- adversity into advantage. What's your name?"
Santana stood and dusted off the modest skirt and petticoat she wore. A twinkle of light caught her eye and she looked up to see a petite blonde woman draped in fine silks and linens, sparkling jewels adorning her fingers, wrists, and earlobes.
"Santana Lopez. Haven't you wandered into the wrong alley?" Santana said smiling and walking slowly towards the woman.
"I was looking for something; something special."
"Have you found it yet?" Santana said stepping close enough that the skirts of their dresses touched. The blonde woman smirked, keeping her eyes on Santana.
"I feel like I'm getting closer. Have you seen anything special tonight?" the woman teased.
"You are about the most special thing I've seen in this stupid little town," Santana said, walking in a circle very close to the blonde woman.
"What kind of special are you looking for?" the woman asked.
"I'm looking for fine things," Santana said, fingering the lace of the woman's dress, "…fine people, with fine ideas, in fine places…"
"You want to travel?"
"I want to travel and see the world and know everything and never ever have to worry about what the sad little people in sad little places like Valencia think of me."
"It would take a lifetime of traveling to see all the fine things in the world," the woman said. "Maybe more than one lifetime."
Santana took a step closer to the woman, "So then I'll find a way to live forever."
"I could help you with that," the woman said, leaning into Santana and placing a small kiss on her lips.
"Can you?" Santana said, barely registering the coolness of the woman's lips.
"I can," the woman whispered into Santana's ear. "Tell me that's what you want- to live forever."
Santana smiled and laughed as she breathed in the perfume of the blonde woman. "I want to live forever and ever and ev-" Before Santana finished she felt a sharp stab in the side of her neck. Her hands reached for the shoulders of the woman. Although the woman seemed much smaller than she, Santana could not push her away. Instead she felt the world suddenly become fluid and sleepy and her eyes rolled back into her head as she fell to the dirt at the woman's feet.
"I am April Rhoades, your sire, Santana Lopez," the woman used her fingernail to slash a vein open in her arm. Thick red blood dripped from her arm onto Santana's mouth. "I've just given you the greatest gift – all of time. And what a time we'll have. Death is just the beginning…"
Part Two
Sunnydale, present
Brittany rolled over, yawning and rubbing her eyes. She'd fallen asleep waiting for Santana after the shower. She'd been tempted to call Lord Tubbington and Tina, in that order, to tell them the good news, but had restrained herself. Tubbs at least, hated to get news, good or bad over the phone. Brittany ran her hand through her still wet hair, tightening the towel wrapped around her as she sat up. She sniffed the air, frowning at the pungent smell of cigarette smoke. "Santana?" She frowned as she pulled the towel off her still damp hair and padded to the kitchen. She'd lost track of time waiting for Santana to return and must have dozed off. As she turned into the small kitchen she leaned against the doorway, watching as Santana stood in front of the stove, humming and swaying side to side. Santana wore leather pants and a tight fitting tank top that stopped several inches shy of the top of her pants. Brittany smiled as she watched Santana dance. She tilted her head noticing that Santana's tattoo now seemed to crossover her hipbone, Brittany hadn't noticed that last night and smiled as she considered taking the time to map the entire pattern.
"Kinda rude to spy on people, isn't it?" Santana said without turning around.
"I was just enjoying the view," Brittany smirked. She strode forward and put her arms around Santana, placing a kiss on her shoulder. The tips of Brittany's fingers slid under the waistband of Santana's leather pants and she stroked her inked hipbones.
"Yikes, your lips are a little chapped," Santana said, finally turning to look at her, a cigarette dangling from her lips. Brittany frowned. "I'm serious, I think you cut me." Santana, pulled at the skin on her shoulder, examining it, the tip of the cigarette wagging dangerously close to Brittany's face.
Brittany chuckled, unsure, releasing her hold on Santana's waist and taking a step towards the bar height table in the center of the kitchen.
"When did you start smoking?"
"Start?" Santana laughed, "I'm more than two hundred years old. I don't remember when I started. I don't smoke often though, that's true…just when I have a bad taste to get out of my mouth. I think this is going to take a couple of cartons." Santana chuckled and turned back to the stove.
Brittany frowned at her as she perched on the edge of the stool.
Santana glanced over her shoulder. "Ever play 'Never Have I Ever'?"
Brittany smiled. "Yeah, Lord Tubbington and I play it all the time only, I always lose because Tubbs has had a really sordid-"
"Yeah," Santana interrupted. "The next time a bunch of us are sitting around playing, I'm gonna pay someone to drop in with 'never have I ever banged a slayer'!" Santana laughed loudly.
"What?!" Brittany asked.
"I know. I know," Santana said waving her off and turning back to the stove. "You'd think vampires would be repulsed by the idea right? But it's a really common fantasy. Well, fantasy for them, reality for me, major bucket list item. Although, I will admit the reality wasn't quite as…something…as the fantasy. Still, a not too shabby way to spend an evening if you have no other plans, right?" Santana chuckled and turned to offer Brittany a plate of very rare meat. "Maybe this will help your anemic performance."
Brittany stared down at the plate in front of her blinking, unsure what was happening. "Did I do something wrong?"
Santana leaned forward, "No, it's not so much what you did as what you didn't do. I kind of don't know how to say this but…are you a virgin? I mean you asked me and I just assumed…I mean, looking at you…" Santana gestured at Brittany with her cigarette, "…that you'd been around the block… a few times… well more than a few times…"
"I'm not, not experienced," Brittany defended, wrapping her arms around herself as if that would shield her from the cold feeling crawling up her spine.
"Well, I guess the block has gotten a lot shorter since my day…" Santana said, chuckling as she reached into the microwave and retrieved a coffee mug. She used her pinky to stir it and then moved it to her lips, blood dripping down her hand.
Brittany sat back startled.
"Whatsa matter, Brittany?" Santana asked. Then seeing the blood dripping down her hand, she chuckled. "Ooops! Oops! Sorry. I forget you're the delicate flower. You like to pretend your vampire lover dines on rose petals and moonbeams, right?" She licked the blood from her hand, laughing. "Do me a favor? Eat up and let's get this show on the road? It's a school night."
"I don't have to go…I told my mom I was staying at Tina's…"
"Couldn't make it easy and take the hint?" Santana said, shaking her head. "How 'bout this? I've got things to do tonight and babysitting isn't one of them."
Brittany's eyes welled with tears.
Santana slammed her hand down on the table, "Move it!"
Brittany jumped to standing. She shook her head and ran into the living room, collecting her clothes from the floor, hurriedly trying to pull them on. Santana drank from her coffee mug and watched half distracted, half bored.
As Brittany pulled on the last of her things, she turned to look at Santana, trying her best to will the tears in her eyes not to fall. Santana strode forward to open the door for Brittany. "Piece of advice?" Santana said. Not waiting for Brittany to reply she continued, "Try harder. The hottest tightest little body in the world does you no good if you don't have the slightest idea what to do with it." Santana pulled the door open and turned, walking back into her bedroom without a glance back.
Brittany stepped off the curb in front of Santana's apartment and blinked. Her brain made a quick cut collage of the images of last night, intimate close-ups of Santana's body, her tattoo, her smirk-curved lips. Brittany's cheeks and ears flushed at the memory of the sensations of last night. Before she realized it, she was running at full speed down the street, tears streaming down her cheeks. She willed her legs to pump faster and felt her lungs start to protest. Her jaw muscles throbbed fiercely trying to prevent a strangled sob from escaping, but the need for oxygen was too much and she found herself gasping for air and howling in pain.
Brittany tightened the rubber band holding her still wet ponytail off her neck and looked both ways before crossing the street running in front of the cemetery. Her eyes began to well up again and she ran bare forearms across them. She heard what sounded like a woman grunting on the far side of the cemetery and quickly transitioned the wiping of her eyes into a sweep of her hands over her forehead and smoothing of her hair. "Duty calls."
As she crossed the street, she was able to make out Quinn in the distance, her leg raised at a high angle, her target much taller than she, and hidden from Brittany's sight by a tree. Brittany darted across the street, pulling two stakes from her backpack as she closed the distance between herself and Quinn's skirmish.
"Quinn! Heads up!" Brittany yelled as she simultaneously threw a stake for Quinn to catch and leaped into the air, feet aimed at Quinn's assailant.
"B!" Quinn shouted, catching the stake.
Brittany tensed anticipating the collision with vampire or werewolf, but instead she felt herself land with a thud at the base of the tree.
Quinn, still holding the stake, clapped slowly and chuckled, "My hero! "
Brittany looked around, seeing no one and nothing anywhere near them, and then snarled at Quinn. "What the f-"
"It's called practicing, B. Not all of us have a dedicated Watcher to train with," Quinn said, stepping back into a fighting stance and landing a high kick on the trunk of the tree while yelling an expletive.
"Shadowboxing now includes verbal abuse?" said Brittany as she crossed her legs under herself and massaged her now tender shoulder.
"Hey, you sleep with your demons, I battle mine. Whatever blows your skirt up, yeah? Besides, it kills time while I wait for fangers to pop," Quinn said gesturing with her elbow to the fresh grave behind her as she threw punches at the tree, stopping just shy of making contact.
"Does it ever make you feel better?"
"Shadowboxing?"
"I mean, just..being angry…" Brittany replied. "Or are you just angry forever?"
Quinn turned and squinted at Brittany. "What's wrong? The sun rise on your vampire love story?"
"No," Brittany lied. "I just… my mom, you know? I felt like we were finally on the same page and she completely… like, flipped… 540 degrees. I have no idea what I did."
Quinn, huffed, "Pfft, moms. Parents, in general, are overrated. I mean after they bring you into the world they should be required to drop you off and let you be raised by professionals. Right?" Brittany shrugged in reply. Quinn continued, " I mean you have to get a license to drive a car 'cause they're worried you might kill someone. But anyone with a pulse can have a kid and no one thinks twice about what damage they can do to a kid…"
Brittany frowned and then moved to sit on the tombstone of the fresh grave. "Yeah… I guess…I mean I just…I thought doing something…she was into… might bring us closer together… "
"I tried that once," Quinn said, hopping on the headstone next to Brittany's and stretching her legs so that her feet rested on the edge of Brittany's perch. "You know how hard it is for an eight year old to have anything wise to say about horseracing or vodka?" Brittany shrugged. "What'd you try?"
"We made love, lots, I mean lots…lots…of chicken," Brittany replied.
"And?" Quinn asked, aiming the stake Brittany had tossed her at the ground and throwing it hard. She smiled when it stuck tight into the ground next to the grave.
"And?"
Quinn turned to look at Brittany. "How was it? Moist? Juicy? Spicy?"
Brittany frowned. "It was fantastic. It was the best I'd ever had. I thought she thought it was good. I mean it seemed like she loved it, like she at least liked it… but…"
"She didn't want seconds, huh?" Quinn said shrugging. "Dead giveaway. They say they love it but don't ask for more. "
Neither girl noticed the fresh grave beginning to stir below them.
"You know, if you wanna try some stuff out on me, I'm game…" Quinn offered.
The dirt covered fingers of a man peeked out from the grave.
"I- , thanks but-" Brittany replied, shaking her head.
"What? I'm not good enough to eat your dry chicken?" asked Quinn, offended.
An arm emerged from the ground and began feeling around the grass next to the grave.
"No, it's not that…it's just I wouldn't want to subject you to… I mean Tubbs wouldn't even eat it…"
"Beats the vending machine at the motel…"
Both girls jumped as the hand from the grave grabbed the stake in the ground and disappeared into the grave. Brittany and Quinn leapt to their feet, fists raised, prepared to fight, only to see the dirt rise as if a small explosion had occurred. A trickle of ash escaped the grave.
"Did he just…" Quinn asked, looking at Brittany.
"Stake himself? Yeah…" Brittany replied. "Rude!"
Part Two
Rachel Berry tossed her dark brown hair back off her face and ran her finger down the glass desktop in front of her. "How I do miss seeing my own reflection," she sighed. After a breath, she shouted, "Kurt!"
Kurt, who'd been perched quietly on the couch reading a magazine, was jarred to attention. "Rachel, I'm right here! Why are you screaming?"
Rachel's face softened and she turned towards Kurt only a few yards away. "Sorry, I just get so anxious about these calls with The Master. Do I look okay?" Rachel said turning to face Kurt, bending her head to smooth out the Kelly green, black, and grey plaid skirt she wore along with black knee socks and a black short sleeved sweater.
"That outfit screams 'move along, nothing to see here', Manhands."
Kurt barely had time to squeak out "That wasn't m-" before Rachel's hands were at his throat.
Rachel looked up to see Sugar, pounce on the shadowed figure standing in the entrance to the lair. A trailing squeal seemed to follow Sugar as she landed smiling in Santana's arms.
Santana smiled, taking a step backwards as she caught Sugar. They hugged each other.
"Rachel?" Kurt squeaked, Rachel's hands having tightened slightly upon seeing Santana. "Rachel!"
Rachel looked down at Kurt, and without a word, let go of his throat. She stood and looked at Santana, her face a mix of anger, surprise, and resentment.
"She rises! She rises! Snixx!" Sugar exclaimed, hugging Santana tightly to the point that they were both in danger of falling over.
"Snixx?" Kurt said, frowning and looking at Santana.
"In the flesh," Santana said, lighting a cigarette and tossing the match on the floor at Kurt's feet.
"You have returned," Rachel said quietly.
Kurt shook his head, noticing what looked like deference in Rachel's reply and posture. "What's going on here? Weren't you cursing her a few weeks ago when she was helping the Slayer destroy our home?"
Rachel and Santana smiled at each other and exchanged a hug several degrees shy of warm. "Kurt, this… is Snixx."
"I'm missing something," Kurt replied walking towards them but staying at arm's length as if that distance might protect him from the woman at whom Rachel and Sugar were both smiling beatifically; Sugar, sincerely; Rachel, perfunctorily. "Except for the wardrobe change, nice- vintage McQueen leather leggings- 2008?" Santana shrugged. "Why aren't we, you, attacking her?"
Ignoring Kurt, Rachel asked, "How did you find us?"
"Oh, Rachel, you forget how long I've known you. Plus, I just tracked all those bodies right to your doorstep." Santana nudged Sugar and winked, "Died of boredom."
Kurt chuckled, before being silenced by a venomous side eye from Rachel. Before Rachel could reply, the phone rang. "The Master!" Rachel yelped and covered the distance to the other side of the underground parking garage in a plaid blur. She held a silencing finger to her lips, glaring at them, before taking a deep breath and hitting the speakerphone button.
"Master! I am greatly humbled that you have taken time out of your b-" she began. Santana, watched amused, sauntering towards Rachel.
"Why is my timeline still grumbling about last night's Vampire Diaries and not the coming apocalypse?" The Master interrupted.
"Well, we are working on that, Master. We do have five of the seven pieces, which I might add far exceed the success of any others before us…" Rachel trailed off. Santana took a step closer to the conference table behind which Rachel paced. Rachel shooed her with both hands, which Santana took as an invitation to have a seat in the chair behind the desk, blocking Rachel's path.
"Boring. What of The Slayer? Have you dispensed with her yet?"
"We have definitely-"
"Does she still breathe?" The Master asked impatiently.
"She does, but-"
"You disappoint me," The Master replied.
"Frankly, you both disappoint and, more importantly, bore me," Santana said aloud, extracting a file from somewhere and tending to her nails.
"Berry?!" The Master shouted.
"That…that…was not me. I-I-" Rachel's face was red from equal parts embarrassment and anger.
"Your ultimate plan is to kill the Slayer?" Santana said, standing and speaking towards the microphone. Before she received an answer she continued. "You really think our battle is with a 16 year old girl? What good would killing her do? There'll just be another one chosen to take her place," Santana's hand covered the speakerphone as she added, winking, "with no guarantee the next one will be as hot as this one. Killing her smacks of childish anger, lack of foresight, desperation... "
Sugar and Kurt stepped closer to hear the conversation.
"Snixx, I should have recognized your voice," The Master intoned. "You've decided to join our efforts on the Hellmouth. We could use some good ideas, some fresh blood put to good use."
Rachel fumed,"What, exactly, do you propose?"
"Well, Manhands, those of us who've made an artform of revenge know that misguided revenge is worse than none at all. Our enemy isn't teenage Slayers sent to martyr themselves at our feet. Our battle is with the Watcher's Council and those filthy gypsies they always side with."
"Kill the Watcher Council and revenge the gypsies for you, but spare the Slayer?" Rachel scoffed. "That is ridiculous!" Kurt stepped to Rachel's side and patted her shoulders.
"Snixx, we all know your issues with the gypsies, but is that reason to spare the Slayer?" The Master asked. Rachel smiled, finally feeling as if The Master was agreeing with her again.
"I just think there's a better way," Santana said, blowing the dust off her fingernails before continuing. "Why kill the Slayer when we can make her one of us?" She watched as Rachel and Kurt's mouths fell open.
"I'm listening," The Master said. Kurt and Sugar leaned in as well.
"Just saying, we'd get an eternity of Slayer versus Slayer for our troubles. Think of all the fun we could have instead of chasing her," Santana said, shrugging and returning her attention to her nails.
There was quiet on both sides of the line. Rachel was unsure if this spelled victory or defeat for her.
"Letting the Slayer live…is just so risky," said the Master. Rachel perked up. "And trying to turn her? I don't even know if that's possible." Rachel beamed.
"I'm already on it," Santana said and again covered the speakerphone with her hand, "literally."
"Surely you are not saying you can turn the Slayer all by yourself?" Rachel said, shaking her head.
"That's exactly what I'm saying and I'm already part way there," Santana replied. All eyes focused on her. "Berry's Goth Scout Jamboree debacle at the warehouse? She really did kill the Slayer."
"I knew it! I knew it!" Rachel shouted, before regaining her composure. Sugar jumped up and down, clapping quietly.
Santana continued "I took the opportunity to share some of my blood. It's just a matter of a little more and she's one of us."
"Why would you save her?" Rachel accused. "That would have afforded us more time to assemble Acathala, unhindered. When our own people work against us, I do not know how I can be expected to-" Kurt nodded in agreement.
"If I hadn't, there'd just be another. In fact, there is another. Killing the Slayer year in and year out has gotten old. Have we learned nothing all these centuries?"
"Do you really think you can turn her?" The Master asked.
"I can. I will," Santana answered. "And I'll have a hell of a time getting there."
"Then it's settled," The Master pronounced, "Snixx will take over the Hellmouth operations. Berry, do make sure she has everything she needs." Without waiting for a reply, the phone went dead.
Santana continued to file her nails, not looking up. Rachel stood frozen, in disbelief over what had just happened. Slowly, Rachel started to walk away.
Santana called out, "Berry, I know fun is the salt to your chosen slug of boredom lifestyle, but this is going to be good, for all of us." Rachel continued to walk, not responding. "Don't worry, Berry, I won't forget your contributions to the cause. I'll make sure your hard work doesn't go unnoticed."
Rachel turned back to Santana, a pained smile on her face. "Anything you need," she paused, "let Kurt know." Sugar matched step with Rachel as she retreated to her room. Sugar blew a kiss towards Santana who mimed catching it and planting it over her heart. Rachel turned to Sugar. "Maybe I just need a vacation? How about Portland? I know how much you love the grass-fed beef fed people there?"
Kurt watched Rachel duck into her room, Sugar continuing to console her. He turned towards Santana, eyeing her suspiciously.
"If you really had the Slayer lying dead in your grasp, why didn't you go ahead and turn her right away?" Kurt asked.
Santana stood, not answering Kurt immediately. She walked to the couch, eyeing a throw pillow stitched with a smiling blonde girl sporting an axe sticking out of her forehead, before sitting. As if on cue, Sugar, left Rachel's room and sat next to Santana. "Are you calling me a liar, Keith?" Santana said without looking at Kurt, running her fingers over the tombstones and crude portraits of the Slayer in various stages of gruesome death. Sugar giggled as she cuddled up close to Santana.
Kurt's eyes rolled as he replied, "Kurt. And no, I don't think you're a liar, but I've only just met you, so my opinion is pretty limited."
"Kurt, aren't you tired of waiting for The Slayer to slip up so we can win? Do you really want our victory given to us by your Lego Lucifer over there?" Santana waved her hand dismissively at the trunks containing the various pieces of Acathala. "Wouldn't you rather take victory by the throat and make her submit to our will for once? 'Happily ever after' always means we lose. Let's write our own ending."
"Bloody ever after," Sugar said, smiling.
"Exactly, Sugar. The bloodier the better," Santana said smiling. "C'mon, Kurt, get up off that waterboard of ennui and join us."
"Yes, Kurt, join us. Snixx is ever so much fun."
Kurt's eyes narrowed as he considered them. After a moment, he seemed to resign. "What do we do first?"
"I need you to call a jeweler for me, rapido," Santana replied.
"A jeweler? Jewelry is going to help you turn the Slayer?" Kurt replied incredulously. Still, he turned and walked to his computer and began searching for jewelers nearby.
"Oh ye of little faith," Santana said shaking her head and leaning back on the couch with Sugar. "You believe in me, don't you?" She asked smiling at Sugar, running a finger under Sugar's chin.
Sugar beamed back, "I've never doubted an evil hair on your rotten little head."
Santana kissed her on the forehead. "Oh, how I've missed you, sweet girl. So glad we're back and ready to actually do something around here. My plan is going to work and more importantly, oh, the drama that will ensue. It's going to be the French Revolution all over again, love." Santana held up one of Sugar's pillows that depicted the town of Sunnydale seemingly floating in a sea of blood. "We're going to reap what you sew."
A/N: Thanks for waiting it out. Let me know what you think! Next chapter will be up soon.
Thanks to everyone who endured me saying "I'm gonna have something for you to read soon" for soooo long.
Thank you, Lady from Bim, for editing/encouraging.
Thank you, Rizz and A for the feedback.
