Books

Santana was sat in her room, laptop on her desk and a cup of coffee next to her. She had spent all night researching foreign languages, and researching on ghosts, and she even tried a search for Michael, see if anything came up funny. Nothing did. She was getting to the annoyed stage now, flipping open her phone and seeing the time; five in the morning. She sighed and looked at the last message from Brittany, last night the blonde had asked her to call her when she could but Santana had been putting it off. She didn't want to tell her girlfriend about the drug in her drink but she knew she had to. So she dialled her number and put the phone to her ear.

'Hey, San….?' She heard Brittany groan and smiled.

'Yeah B, it's me. Did I wake you?' Santana asked, shutting the top of her computer and moving to sit on her bed.

'Yeah, but I'm glad you did.' Brittany said, and Santana could picture her smiling on the other end of the phone. 'So, how's school?'

'School's, you know. School.' She replied, and then she cut to the chase. 'Brit, listen. I need to tell you something okay?'

'Sure, what's up?' Brittany asked, Santana listening to her shuffling around, sitting up in her bed the Latina guessed.

'First you have to promise me that you wont freak out.'

'Why would I freak out? San just tell me.' Brittany pleaded.

'Okay so the other night, we all went out to a club. You know, to celebrate making it through the first week. But at some point during the night…' She sighed, exhaling heavily before she spoke. 'Someone, put something in my drink. A date rape drug.' She said, and braced herself for Brittany's reaction.

'What! Santana oh my God, are you alright?' Brittany cried.

'Brit, babe, calm down. I'm fine, I promise. The guys found me and got me out safe.' Santana assured her, hearing the blonde's breathing slow down slightly.

'Okay, okay, but I mean, you weren't…. they didn't….?'

'Not Brit, I wasn't. I'm fine.' Santana smiled into the phone, hoping that the blonde could sense in the tone of her voice that she was okay.

'Alright, I'm just sorry I'm not there San.'

'I know, me too. But you have to go and be awesome now okay? I'll be up to see you dance soon enough.' Santana reminded her, and then an alarm went off in the background. 'Is that your alarm?'

'Oh, yeah, early lessons and then rehearsal all day.' Brittany said, Santana hearing her yawn.

'I wont keep you then Brit. I love you.'

'I love you too Santana. And be careful okay?' Brittany pleaded.

'I will, talk to you later.'

'Bye San.' Brittany said finally, Santana hanging up the phone and leaning back into her pillows. She looked at the time again. Five thirty. She didn't realise they'd been talking for that long. She sighed, running a hand through her hair and then pushing herself up from the bed. She grabbed her wash bag and some clean clothes and headed off down the hall. She knew what she was going to do. Have a shower and go to the library. If the internet fails, she was always taught to go back to basics, and she bet the library had a killer foreign languages section.

Another half an hour later Santana found herself washed, clothed, and heading to the coffee shop to top up before going to the library. She stopped at one of the carts on route and picked up a black coffee, piling in the sugar to keep herself awake. She thanked the man and paid for it, walking away and rounding the last corner before laying her eyes on the magnificent building that was their library. It was a massive building. Bigger than the buildings they have their classes in anyway. She walked up the steps and pushed open the large doors, noticing immediately that it was almost deserted. She looked to her left and saw the librarian, sitting at her desk and reading the paper. Coffee in hand, Santana walked up to her, plastering a friendly smile on her face. 'Excuse me.' She said, walking up to the desk, the old, bored looking woman in charge simply looking up at her with no verbal acknowledgement. 'Erm, can you tell me where the foreign languages section is?'

'Third level, take a left at the top of the stairs and then right to the end.' She replied unenthusiastically.

'Thanks.' Santana said as she turned away, heading to the stairs. She climbed them slowly, taking in the magnitude of the building. It was all wood and dark colours, not old fashioned but not modern either. She ran her free hand along the wide banister as she followed it around to the left on the third level, after looking down over the lower floors. She followed the librarians instructions and headed right to the far end, seeing a sign for foreign languages. She took her bag off over her head and placed it, along with her coffee, onto the large wooden table in the middle of the stacks and then placed her jacket over the back of one of the chairs. It was nice and quiet, seemingly more quiet than it should be but it was still very early on a Sunday morning. She started looking through the shelves, reading the titles of the books and seeing if any could be useful. She pulled out several books, all old and dusty because she had exhausted researching languages she already knew, and stacked them on the table. Five minutes later she had a pile of nine books to go through. 'This is going to be a long morning.' She said out loud to herself, before pulling out the wooden chair, scraping it along the floor in the process, and slumping down into it.

By eight o'clock Santana was finally on the last book. It had a black velvet cover and not much else really, no title no author. But when she opened it, in big black letters it read; 'Latin.' She flipped through the pages and began to read, hoping that there would be a dictionary or phrase section. Luckily she had scribbled the words down on a piece of paper, spelling obviously wrong but she remembered the pronunciation, as she looked at the words and tried to match them. Her eyes went wide as she was reading one of the paragraphs, saying the part of the sentence she recognised out loud; 'Non omnis moriar….. Not all of me shall die.' She whispered, her brow furrowing in confusion. She scanned down the page trying to find the rest of the words, her eyes scanning every letter until she found the next one; 'Quis custodiet ipsos custodes…. who shall watch the watchers themselves?' Again she whispered, feeling even more confused. And then she found the last one; 'Requiescat in pace….' She said, but then a voice came from behind her.

'May she rest in peace.' He said, the Latina jumping out of her seat so quickly that her coffee would have been spilled if there was any left. The empty cup rolled across the table until it slipped onto the floor, Santana standing with her hands leaning back against it, breathing heavily. 'That's what it means, may she rest in peace.' He said, smiling at her and leaning up against the stacks.

'What.. What are you doing her Michael?' She asked, trying to remain calm and keep her voice steady, but at the same time wondering how long he'd been there.

'Oh, nothing, just out for a walk.' He grinned, and somehow Santana didn't quite believe him.

'Right, so you always walk around the library on a Sunday morning?' She asked sarcastically.

'If I have a reason to.' He said, pushing away from his leaning position and moving in closer to her.

'Yeah, and what might that reason be?' She asked, not sure if she wanted to hear the answer. Whilst he was thinking, she felt behind her on the table, her bag was too far away and her phone was in the side pocket. She wouldn't be able to reach it and call for help at the same time.

'Aren't you a good enough reason?' He asked, Santana grimacing and swallowing harshly.

'Not really, I think I should tell you you're wasting your time.' She said, moving her eyes around the area to see if anyone else was around.

'How do you mean?' He asked, looking slightly confused which took the brunette back a little.

'I… I have a girlfriend. Whom I'm in love with.' She added, making sure he knew it was serious. A sudden, bellowing laugh erupted from Michael causing Santana to flinch, gripping onto the edge of the table tighter as she watched him wipe tears of laughter from his cheeks.

'Oh, you really think that's what I'm interested in?' He chuckled once more. 'My dear, you have no fucking idea do you?'

'W..what?' She stuttered, Michael walking to within an inch of her, their noses would be touching if he wasn't slightly taller.

'You, and your dad.' He picked up a strand of her hair and twirled it around his fingers. 'You're just the same.'

'N.. no, I'm not.' She said automatically, whenever someone compared her to her father she denied it instantly. 'He was crazy, he….'

'Killed himself. Yes, I know.' Michael sighed. 'Such a shame.' He whispered, moving his hand down to stroke the side of Santana's face.

'You, you know?' She swallowed again as he nodded, his hand moving down past her neck which caused her to shiver, and then following the curves of her arm until he had a tight grip on her wrist.

'I know about, everything.' He smiled, squeezing her wrist. She could see his eyes fill with something, something that wasn't anger or hurt, but evil?

'You're hurting me.' She whispered, but his smile only grew wider.

'Who will watch the watchers Santana?' He asked.

'What?' She said, her voice trembling as the pressure on her wrist grew.

'You've seen him haven't you? I know you have. Non omnis moriar.'

'You're crazy.' Santana told him, a tear falling down her cheek.

'I know.' He smiled, laughing as she ripped herself away from him, forgetting about her coat but grabbing her bag from the table and sprinting as fast as she could down the stairs and out of the door.