Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or the world in which this story is based.

Author's Note(s): Evenin' :-) Thanks for all the reviews and hits for the last chapter, guys! I'm glad you enjoyed it. I hope you enjoy this next one just as much! Ciao ciao ciao.

No Rest for the Wicked
Chapter 10

She probably breaks about ten different speed limits on her way, but Santana and Brittany make it back to the Roadhouse in record time. The whole way there she can feel Brittany giving her worried looks, utterly confused about what's going on, but until she's there and has seen it for herself she refuses to believe what Quinn told her is true. There's still a possibility this is all a sick joke. Unlikely (Quinn has no sense of humour), but sometimes it pays to be an optimist. Or at least so she's heard. She hasn't had much experience of it herself.

Before they even get there though it becomes clear that Quinn hadn't been lying. She can see the billows of smoke rising in the distance, blotting out the sky, and her stomach twists.

"Well fuck," says Santana faintly.

It takes them another ten minutes to arrive at their destination and she parks a little way down the gravely road so they aren't too close to the danger zone. She can see who she assumes to be Quinn and two other people stood not too far ahead so she quickly exists the car, hardly even aware of Brittany trailing worriedly behind her. So much for date night.

"Well you took your sweet time," Quinn comments without bite as they draw close, but Santana ignores her.

Her full attention is on the burning mess just a few metres in front of her. How could this have happened? She feels a sharp pain in her arm and briefly glances sideways to see Brittany with her mouth agape and gripping onto her tightly, fingernails digging into skin. Santana swallows and dimly registers the noisy sobs emitting from the mouth of one Rachel Berry. For once, Santana can't even bring herself to reprimand Rachel for her theatrics. In this instance it might be warranted. The Roadhouse isn't...wasn't...just a bar. It's a symbol. A place were untethered hunters can go to feel like there's somewhere they belong. It's a massive loss to the community.

"Were people still inside?" asks Brittany in a hushed voice. Her only answer is the way Rachel's wails become louder and frighteningly more hysterical. Santana's stomach lurches and bile rises to her throat. So many good hunters...

"What the hell happened?" Santana demands when nobody seems to be forthcoming with an explanation. The three girls turn to look at her and Santana's eyebrows furrow when she recognises the teenager she and Brittany spotted yesterday outside the building. She looks absolutely terrified but oddly seems to calm a little when her eyes fall on Brittany and in turn, Santana. In fact, an odd little smile plays about her mouth. Freak.

"Demons," says Quinn succinctly. "Lots of them."

Santana cringes as a loud bang resonates towards them. The final wooden beams holding the Roadhouse upright bows and bends until what's left of the building crashes down to the ground, forcing a wave of ash and smoke to hurtle in their direction. Rachel lets another shriek and latches onto Quinn's arm for support as the air becomes thicker. With a disgusted look, Quinn tries to shake her off to no avail.

"How did you get away?" asks Brittany softly.

Quinn shrugs and brings a hand to her face to brush away a few strands of hair that have fallen out of place. "We weren't actually there."

"I'd gone to stock up on peanuts," Rachel sobs, speaking for the first time. "Peanuts! They saved my life." Santana rolls her eyes at the woman's dramatics. "I took Sugar with me because she looked like she needed something to eat!" Santana's eyes fall on the girl, whom she assumes must be Sugar. Who the hell crazy person calls their kid 'Sugar'? "I've felt weird all day! I knew something was going to happen." Once more, Santana rolls her eyes. Rachel perpetually claims to be a 'little bit psychic' despite all evidence to the contrary. "I got back and I saw all the fighting and I knew I had to keep Sugar safe so we hid and I called Quinn."

Quinn licks her lips and gives a jerky nod of her head. Her face is hard and expressionless. "I got here just in time to see the entire place explode and a hoard of black smoke disappear into the distance."

"Fuck," Santana mutters.

"Black smoke from the fire?" asks Brittany, confusion evident in her tone.

"Black smoke is how demons travel around," says Santana tonelessly. "They can't actually do anything in that state though. The only way they can act is if they're possessing somebody."

Brittany's eyes widen in horror and she digs her nails even harder into Santana's bicep.

"Rachel," says Santana faintly. "Was Matt..."

"Still inside," Rachel gasps out with a nod, tears streaming down her face. Santana closes her eyes and sucks in a deep breath, barely stopping a cough as she inhales thin smoke. She hadn't known Matt very well; nobody really did, but Santana had once found comfort in his easy smile and sad eyes as she tried to drown her memories in alcohol.

"Mike and Tina?" she presses, fear gripping at her heart.

"They left yesterday," Rachel tells her. A lump grows in Santana's throat and she squeezes her hands into fists. Thank God...

For a little while, the small group just watch the giant bonfire destroy the last remnants of Rachel's home. It's an odd thing to notice at the time but Santana can't help but admit there's a certain beauty in the way the flames lick the debris, desperately trying to reach for the sky.

"What are we going to do, Santana?" asks Brittany quietly after an interminable amount of time has passed. It takes every ounce of Santana's willpower to drag her eyes away from the destruction. It's hard to believe not two hours ago they were playfully debating on a name for a stuffed animal. Okay so it was more Brittany spouting ideas and Santana trying to conceal her general bewilderment, but still.

"We need to stop the bitch, obviously," Quinn answers for her. Santana shoots a glare the woman's way before looking back to Brittany. She needs time to think before she can answer this question.

"We need to regroup," she says after a moment. "This is...bigger than I expected. The bar was full of fully trained hunters. Things shouldn't have gone down the way it did."

"What are you suggesting?" Quinn questions her, eyebrow raised with an almost defiant look on her face.

Santana pauses for a moment as words spoken by none other than Mercedes Jones seem to drift through her consciousness. "I'm suggesting we call in every favour we're owed and get every hunter we can together." Quinn purses her lips. "This is too big for just us. I don't know about you but I haven't got a fucking clue where to start with this one. We need help." Brittany looks at her rather proudly.

Still, Quinn seems reluctant and tension mounts. "And say we do all this? Where exactly are we going to go?"

Yeah, that's a good question.

"Abrams's," Santana says after a minute of silence. "He's got himself a supernatural library hidden around that cabin."

Quinn seems to consider this for a moment and Santana uses the time to take in the dishevelled appearances of her new companions. Rachel has stopped wailing but tears still flow freely down her face; Santana almost feels a little sorry for her. The other girl...Sugar...seems to be in some serious shock and awe. At the moment she's gazing at Brittany with wide, innocent eyes. It might be sweet if it wasn't quite so disturbing.

"Who the hell are you?" Santana asks suspiciously. She remembers the strange man in the trench coat and the way he disappeared in the blink of an eye. How can they be sure that she didn't have anything to do with this mess?

Sugar's mouth drops open and her eyes dart to look at Santana. She looks absolutely shocked that Santana is directly addressing her. "I'm Sh...Sugar," she says, her voice pitchy and frightened.

"Sugar what?" Santana probes.

The girl's eyes widen. "Just Sugar. I don't...I don't have a last name," she squeaks. Santana raises a sceptical eyebrow and glances at Brittany, who's head is cocked to one side in confusion.

"Okay..." says Santana cautiously. "And how old are you exactly? It kinda looks like it's past your bedtime. Your parents are okay with you being out this late?"

Sugar's eyes drop to the ground and she kicks her foot against the ground. "I'm eighteen," she mumbles. "I can do what I like."

"Liar," says Santana immediately. You don't spend years interrogating people and not pick up a few tricks; Santana can always tell when someone is telling the truth or not. Sugar's brow scrunches together in annoyance and even in the smoky darkness Santana sees her cheeks take on a pink hue.

"I'm sixteen okay!" she snaps, then she clamps her hand over her mouth and looks at Santana in horror. "Sorry. Asperger's." God, this chick is really weird.

"Where are your parents?" This time it's Brittany who asks. "You should really go home or they'll be worried."

Sugar lifts her head and looks at Brittany desperately. "They're not here," she says after a moment. "I have nowhere else to go. I'm staying with you guys."

"You are not!" snaps Quinn, the thoughtful expression on her face disappearing. "Where the hell did you get this kid from, Berry?"

"She asked to sleep at the Roadhouse last night, Quinn. What was I supposed to do? Make her sleep on the streets?" Rachel retorts, the bite in her voice lost through the tears.

"Don't send me away," Sugar begs. She reaches forward and grips onto the sleeve on Santana's jacket, but she quickly lets go when Santana glares at her. "I can hunt. I can help you. My mom taught me to defend myself as soon as I could walk."

She looks at them all hopefully. "And why did she do that?" Santana asks, still a little dubious.

"So I can help her hunt," Sugar says as though it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Duh." Santana can tell she's lying again.

Before Santana can question the girl further, Quinn lets out a loud huff. "We don't have time for this. We should go to Abrams' house and talk about our next move." A smug comment is on the tip of Santana's tongue but Quinn keeps talking. "We should get going now because I refuse to be a step behind this bitch any longer. We can argue about the kid later." Sugar looks deeply affronted at being referred to as 'the kid'.

Santana wants to argue purely because it's Quinn making the suggestion but this attack has been a massive escalation on what so far has only been isolated events. Sue is moving a lot quicker than Santana had anticipated and the churning in her stomach is telling her they need to get moving as soon as possible. As a hunter she'd learnt fairly quickly to always follow her instincts because nine times out of ten they're spot on.

"Fine."


As it turns out, 'every hunter we can get' isn't actually as high a number as Santana had anticipated. The Changs are already in the middle of another hunt and claim they can't leave, and Santana definitely doesn't miss the subtext of, 'and even if we could we wouldn't come'. She knows they only really have experience with vampires so the whole demon thing is admittedly out of their comfort zone. It is for all of them though so Santana doesn't really see this as a viable excuse. Puck and Finn are on their way, however, although she's not entirely convinced they'll be a help rather than a hindrance. She's also contacted one of the handful of people in the world she actually considers a friend so at least there'll be someone there on her side.

Beside her, Brittany yawns loudly and rests her cheek against the cold car window. Santana smiles briefly.

"Why don't you try and get some sleep, Britt?" Santana suggests. Brittany blinks owlishly.

"You're not sleeping," she points out.

"I'm driving. If I was sleeping this journey would be a lot less safe," replies Santana. Brittany doesn't look amused. "It's okay, Britt. I don't need that much sleep and it's only another five hours until we get there. Besides, the kid's still awake. I won't be up on my own." Santana takes a hand of the steering wheel to jerk a thumb in Sugar's direction in the back of the car.

"I'm not a kid!" Sugar protests, crossing her arms over her chest. Santana's sure if she was standing up she would have stamped her foot too.

Brittany turns her head to look at the girl again. When they finally gathered themselves enough to leave what remains of the Roadhouse, Sugar had been absolutely insistent that she ride in the car with Brittany and Santana rather than Quinn and Rachel. Santana had protested, obviously, but Brittany decided she suddenly felt sorry for her and convinced Santana it was a good idea.

It wasn't a good idea.

Sugar has spent the last two hours staring at them in turn through the car mirrors and it's really starting to freak Santana out. The worst part is whenever she and Brittany say anything to each other, the kid tilts her head to one side like she's literally hanging on every word that comes out of their mouths. It's weird. And invasive. Santana isn't sure she really wants people knowing about her relationship status with Brittany yet so she's kept quiet so far. She has a reputation to maintain after all. Brittany, however, just as she always has, refuses to show any kind of restraint when it comes to public displays of affection. Santana is already on edge and this really isn't helping to calm her down.

She really can't afford to spend the next few days looking after some sixteen year old that Rachel Berry picked up off the street. She needs to focus on keeping her and Brittany safe while they put a stop to the hoard of demons hell-bent (no pun intended) on ending their lives. Not to mention all the other hunters. The world might not know it but they need as many hunters alive as possible.

Santana sighs. "Whatever you say, kid."

Sugar huffs and Brittany turns her head back so she's facing forward once more. "It's okay," says Brittany. "I want to stay awake with you. It was supposed to be date night..." She trails off unhappily and Santana finds herself hoping Brittany isn't mad at her for this turn of events.

"Yeah but we can have date night another time. You know, assuming we survive the night," says Santana in an off-hand voice. Based on the horrified look on Brittany's face, her tasteless joke is not appreciated. "Hey, I was just kidding. Of course we're gonna survive this thing. Hellion demonic super-powered guerrilla soldiers aren't going to stand a chance against us." That had sounded better in her head.

Brittany shoots her another unimpressed look and Santana swears she hears Sugar muttering something about how socially awkward she is.

"Seriously, Britt, you'll feel better if you get some sleep," Santana continues. She needs time to think about things and she can't really do it with Brittany's sad eyes pointed in her direction. She's a distraction and right now Santana needs to focus her attention on getting them through this alive.

"I'll sleep when you sleep," says Brittany stubbornly. Santana sucks in a deep breath to try and suppress her irritation; she knows Brittany just wants to help and doesn't deserve her annoyance. Is this personal growth? Considering the feelings of another human being before reacting? After a moment of consideration, Santana feels inordinately proud of herself. It doesn't stop her from wishing Brittany would stop staring at her though.

"Okay," says Santana finally. Somewhere underneath her displeasure, she can feel a small thrum of pleasure at the idea that Brittany is willing to ignore her own exhaustion just to keep Santana company.

Okay she's really going to have to stop it with all this sappy shit or she'll never live it down.

"Where the hell are we going anyway?" asks a shrill voice from the back of the car. Santana rolls her eyes and shakes her head. Way to ruin the moment, Sugar.

"I already told you," says Santana impatiently. "We're going to see an expert."

Seemingly unimpressed with her answer, Sugar leans back and folds her arms with a dramatic huff.


By the time they pull up in the scrap yard, both of Santana's travelling partners are fast asleep and snoring softly. At the sight of Brittany curled up into a ball and leaning against the car door, Santana can't help but wish with a heavy heart that she could just take her away from all of this and lock them both up somewhere safe to live out the rest of their days in peace. Brittany really doesn't deserve to have to put up with this shit because of Santana's sense of honour or whatever it is that compels her to commit to this war. She sighs deeply and does a quick scan of the area as best she can in the poor lighting.

She can see Quinn's car just a few feet away from her own so she and Rachel must already be inside. Puck's car could be around somewhere too but it's a lot more difficult to pick out his vehicle amongst the scrap metal and junk that's already lying around. It could easily be hidden by one of the piles of cars stacked together around the grimy wasteland.

Santana licks her lips and turns off the engine. The sooner they get this over with the sooner they can find somewhere decent to sleep because Santana really does not want to nap in her car tonight. Although, based on the peeking shade of orange somewhere in the distant sky it's probably closer to morning at this point. Date night turned out to be a complete and utter failure then. She should have known it was all too good to last.

The sudden quiet of the engine seems to rouse Brittany from her light slumber and she groans unhappily against the window. "We there?" she mumbles.

"Yeah," Santana replies, feeling a strange rush of fondness when Brittany's brow furrows in response and she wraps her arms more tightly around herself. "We can go find a motel now if you want and come back in the morning?"

Brittany groans unhappily and shakes her head. "No, 'm'up."

"You seem like you are," Santana remarks, noting the way Brittany still hasn't even attempted to open her eyes. She turns her head to observe the teenager still sleeping across the back seat. "Yo! Sugar! Wake your fat ass up!"

The girl whines and raises her arms to cover her eyes despite the lack of lights. "Five more minutes, mom."

Santana rolls her eyes. "Not quite, kid." Sugar seems to grumble for a little while longer before forcing herself into an upright position and looking at Santana warily.

"What are we doing in this dump?" she all but shrieks when the confusion in her eyes clears she finally takes in their surroundings. At this, Brittany finally pries her eyes open to see what Sugar is looking at. She too seems a little bewildered.

"For the third time," Santana says impatiently, "we're here to see a guy about some demons. Comprende?"

"And he lives in a junk yard?" asks Brittany as she wipes a little drool from her chin.

Santana shrugs and opens the car door. "We all gots to make a living somehow. Auto repair is as good as anything."

"If you say so," says Sugar dubiously. She glances down at her nails. "I don't believe in manual labour."

Santana opens her mouth to reply to this but then thinks better of it. Maybe if they're lucky the kid'll get lost somewhere and then they won't have to deal with her. This is a pretty big place and it's like a mile from town so they can be gone before she even reaches a phone. Ugh. She really does not want to play fucking babysitter.

It takes a minute or so but eventually Santana manages to usher her sleepy companions from the car. Surely she's the one who should be on the cusp of collapse and not the two who slept for pretty much the entire drive?

"This place could do with a gardener," Sugar comments as they make their way over to the large, dull grey house that can only be seen because of the lights shining through one of the windows. "Maybe a hoard of gardeners." She looks distastefully at the overgrown weeds underfoot and Santana rolls her eyes. Artie can hardly be blamed for his land falling into disrepair.

Really, Santana feels like the whole place has a certain charm to it. Not exactly what she'd call homey but she's been to worse places. Much worse.

They reach the door and Santana offers a nervous looking Brittany a small smile before knocking loudly. Well, as loudly as she thinks she's able; the door looks like a stiff wind will break it down so she tries not to be too rough.

It takes only a few seconds for the door to be swung open but the person stood there is not who she was expecting. It's someone far far worse.

"All right, Santana," says a cheery Irish voice. "Quinn said you were coming."

"Oh sweet Jesus, what are you doing here?" Santana asks, slapping a hand to her forehead. As if this situation couldn't get any worse.

Rory's smile fades a little. "I live here now. And might I say, Santana, you're looking awfully fine this evening." Santana cringes and glances down at the tight dress she's still wearing. Ugh. Should have changed before coming here.

"That's gross," Sugar comments, and for once Santana can't help but agree with her.

"Let's save the chitchat for later, Irish," Santana says, brushing past him with Brittany trailing behind her.

She steps into the wide hallway and raises an eyebrow at the peeling wallpaper. Sugar begins to mutter about an interior decorator she knows and Brittany takes a step forward to grip Santana's arm.

"Kitchen or library?" Santana questions Rory without turning around. She knows that's where Artie likes to conduct his business.

"Kitchen," Rory supplies, so Santana turns right and leads Brittany down the hall to a large door. On their way they have to sidestep several stacks of various sized books. She briefly wonders if Kurt has been here recently because he'd probably spontaneously orgasm if he saw all these old tomes lying about. If she ever gets around to calling Ebony and Ivory maybe she'll let him know.

They reach the kitchen area and without knocking, Santana pushes the door open and pulls Brittany along with her. The five people sat around a worn mahogany kitchen table turn to look at her with varying levels of exhaustion.

"Nice of you to finally join us," Quinn is the first to remark. "Stop for a makeover on the way?"

"Ha ha ha," says Santana dryly. She still feels a lingering anger at Quinn for what she'd said to Brittany in the Roadhouse but now really isn't the time to hash it out with her. "Very amusing."

Without greeting anybody else in the room, she directs a nervous looking Brittany forward and ushers her down into the chair she assumes belonged to Rory and then perches in the empty one next to it. Sugar can do whatever the hell she wants; unless her desire is to continue staring at she and Brittany as though she's seen a ghost, in which case Santana very much takes issue with it.

"Hey, girl," Artie greets with a nod of his head.

"Professor X," Santana replies. He responds with a rather bitter smile and pushes a pair of thick rimmed glasses up his nose. "What did I miss?"

"Nothing," Finn answers for her. "We only just got here." He and Puck both look tired. They probably came straight from a hunt.

"We were just filling in Artie and Rory about the destruction of my home and livelihood," Rachel continues, a couple of tears falling down her cheeks for good measure. How that girl isn't dehydrated by this point is a mystery to Santana. She looks like she's been sobbing for the entire car journey over here. She doesn't envy Quinn for having to put up with it.

Finn reaches over the table and encompasses Rachel's hand with his own giant one. The sickeningly sympathetic smile he offers her is enough to make Santana queasy.

"Yeah, we're real sorry for your loss, Rachel," Rory adds. He walks from the door and leans against the white kitchen cabinets next to Sugar.

Beside her, Brittany frowns and tilts her head so her mouth is next to Santana's ear. "Is he speaking English?" she whispers. Santana bites down on her bottom lip to stop a laugh from escaping.

"Yeah, boo hoo," says Puck, stretching his arms above his head. "How about we sing Kumbaya and braid each others hair after we track down the demon that smoked my favourite hangout?"

"Demons," Santana corrects.

Puck shrugs his shoulders. "Demon. Demons. What's the difference?"

"Quite a big difference actually," Artie says, his voice slipping into teachery mode. He always seems to alternate between that one and one in which he seems to be confusing himself with a female middle-aged black stereotype.

"I've never seen a demon," says Rory. He scratches his head. This is only the second time Santana has met Rory; the first was on a hunt in Massachusetts and honestly she's surprised he's still alive. She's sure if she ever looked up the word 'incompetent' in the dictionary it would just be a large picture of Rory's guileless grinning face. He got himself punched by one of the locals because he was looking just a little too intensely at her ass and then almost cried. Pathetic. "How do you kill them?"

"You can't," Quinn informs the group.

"Wait, what?" says Brittany, sounding alarmed. Under the table, Santana puts her hand on Brittany's knee as a way to calm her down and Brittany reaches down to instead lace their fingers together.

Artie turns to them and nods his head. There's a strange glint in his eye as he looks Brittany up and down that Santana doesn't like one bit, but she holds her tongue as the man begins to talk. "As far as we know there is only one way to actually kill a demon; with a gun called The Colt. As it is, nobody has seen that gun in years and even if they had it's not a sure thing it would even work. It's all just rumours and speculation."

"So then what are we going to do?" Brittany presses.

"We can't kill them," Santana continues, "but we can send them back to hell."

"But they'll be able to come back?" This confused question comes from a weary looking Sugar.

"In theory," says Artie. He takes off his glasses and tries to clean them on his space invaders sweater. "But it's damn near impossible to climb out of hell."

"That doesn't seem to have stopped the group that killed Karofsky," says Puck. He glances uneasily over at Quinn before his eyes drop down to the table. Oh God...if Santana has to deal with Puck and Quinn's sexually charged awkward glances for this hunt she's going to be forced to shoot them both. They're almost as bad as Finn and Rachel. Actually no...nobody is even close to being as repulsive as Finn and Rachel.

"Yes, thank you for your input, Puck," says Quinn icily.

A tense silence follows this and Brittany looks to Santana with question in her eyes. She shakes her head ever so slightly and Brittany nods. They'll talk about it later.

"I think we should just ignore the demons," says a sudden, shrill voice. Eight pairs of eyes snap to the teenager. She begins to pick at her bright pink sleeve but keeps her head held high. Santana is almost impressed. "Someone could get hurt. Hurt forever. Let somebody else deal with them."

There's a short pause. "Who the hell's the kid?" says Puck, pulling a face. "You're like what...twelve?"

"Sixteen!" Oh yeah, there it is; the foot stamping.

"Just ignore her," says Santana dismissively. "As soon as we find out where she lives we're dropping her off at home."

Sugar lets out a quiet sigh and looks down. "Oh so she's yours then?" Puck asks. "Just picking up girls at random now, Miss 'I-prefer-to-work-alone'? Or just the pretty ones?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Santana snaps. "She was at the Roadhouse when in burned down and had nowhere else to go. Stop being so vile."

"Are you just mad because she won't let you tap that?" says Puck. He winks at Sugar who has the good grace to look revolted.

"That may be the most disgusting thing you've ever said. She's barely even legal," Santana protests.

"Woah. Calm down, Lezpez. I was talking about Brittany," says Puck, holding out his hands as if to stave off an upcoming attack. The smug look of amusement on Quinn's face over this exchange is unbearable.

"I swear to God I'm going to–"

"Santana! Be nice," says Brittany, quietly elbowing her in the side. There's a tiredness in Brittany's gaze that immediately makes Santana fall silent.

"Yeah, Santana. Be nice," says Puck with a sly grin. His eyes are fixed on the bit of the table concealing their joined hands as though he can see right through it.

"Fuck you, Noah."

"That's enough!" Artie snaps, banging his hands down. "None of this is helping." He offers Brittany charming smile that makes the hairs on the back of Santana's neck prickle. "We can't kill demons," he continues as though there had been no interruption, "but we can send them back to hell with an exorcism ritual. I'm Artie, by the way."

"I'm Brittany." She sounds a little overwhelmed.

"It's nice to meet you," replies Artie. The smile never leaves his face and Santana narrows her eyes. Seriously, how many guys is she going to have to fight off?

"Me and Puck fought a demon last year," says Finn after a moment. "It almost killed us. How are we supposed to fight off a lot of them at once?"

"That is going to be the tricky part," Artie says in agreement. Rather than being daunted by the prospect, Artie actually looks delighted by the challenge.

"I still think this whole thing is a really bad idea," Sugar mutters but nobody pays her any attention. She's an odd kid. Santana's pretty sure she has no hunting skills herself but she seems to know enough not to have been phased by these turn of events that would have had most normal people running for the hills. Maybe her parents are hunters? She'll have to question the kid again at another time.

"Once we know how to fight them we also need to know how to find them," Quinn adds.

At this, Artie grins. "You leave that part to me, girl. I have some ideas."

"You think you can figure out what their next move is going to be?" asks Santana, just a little surprised.

"Fo' sho'," Artie replies, looking pleased with himself. "I've been working on a computer programme to track down demonic omens."

"Demonic omens?" Rachel hiccups. The tears seem to have stopped but Santana fears that at this point anything could set her off again. At least she escaped with her life; unlike Matt.

Artie nods. "Electrical storms, cattle mutilation." Brittany pulls a face. "Temperature fluctuations. They're the three I'm looking for specifically. Find those things in the same area and sooner or later Mr Demon is gonna be making an appearance."

"You're a nerd," says Puck with a smirk and shake of his head.

With a grim smile, Artie shrugs his shoulders. "There's not a lot else I can do to be useful these days."

Another tense silence follows this statement and Santana rolls her eyes at the awkwardness of it all. They're hunters; they really shouldn't feel the need to tiptoe around the sensitive issues. Thankfully, a loud knock on the front door brings the group out of their reverie and Rory immediately jumps to his feet and rushes from the room. He's like a little Jack Russell dancing around with his tail wagging.

"I give it another ten minutes before he literally wets himself from all the excitement," Santana comments with a shake of her head. "Seriously, Artie, if you needed a maid I would have been happy to provide half my scam money towards her keep. You didn't have to scrape the barrel with that sack of potatoes."

Artie smiles a little and Brittany elbows her again. "I like Rory. What he lacks in skills he makes up for in enthusiasm," he says.

"It's better he be here than out hunting," says Quinn in her soft voice. "He wouldn't last one minute out there on his own."

"Rory's cool," Finn adds with a shrug and Santana rolls her eyes.

"You just like him because he worships the ground you walk on," says Artie.

Before Finn can reply, the kitchen door swings open once more and the boy in question walks in with a dopey smile on his face followed by another man. Santana feels a smile capture her face.

"Hey, guys," says Sam. He raises a hand in a wave.

"Trouty Mouth!" she says happily. "I see the lip reduction surgery fell through? Too bad."

Sam grins at her and leans forward to give her an awkward hug. "I've missed you too, Santana."


Author's Note(s): Okay, so I had to introduce quite a few new characters in this chapter and they're all quite vague right now, but I will be going into them in more detail in the next chapter.

Thank you for reading and as always feel free to direct any questions to my Tumblr (cognitivism) because I'm more likely to see them there than I am on here :-)