Brittany looked down at herself in shock, watching the vampire remains drip off her body. It was a hideous, smelly, awful sight, and Santana felt herself getting nauseous. The last thing she wanted to do was get sick and start vomiting blood, adding to the mess already covering the basement. But she couldn't control her body the way she wanted to. She felt the hot swell of blood rising up from her stomach, pushing through her throat into her mouth. She leaned over and wretched three times, her sickness splattering into the vampire remains, combining to make a darker pool of blood.
"Santana!" Brittany gasped. "Oh my god..."
Santana wretched a few more times, holding up her hand to keep Brittany back. Brittany raised her own hand to her mouth, and for a moment Santana thought she was going to be sick too.
"Oh my god," Brittany repeated. "Sweetie, are you okay?"
Santana was bewildered. Brittany had come within an inch of her life and was currently dripping with vampire remains, and she was worried that Santana was throwing up.
But Santana couldn't stop gagging long enough to say that to Brittany. She turned away so Brittany wouldn't have to watch her be sick. After a moment she felt Brittany's hand on her back, slightly sticky, but warm and concerned. She felt Brittany's worry envelope her, trying to soothe her. Selfishly, she was grateful for it, because it calmed her enough that she was able to stop wretching, wipe her mouth, and stand up. She didn't want to look Brittany in the eye, so she muttered, "I'm fine."
She knew Brittany didn't believe her, but she needed to say it anyway.
"Let's get out of here," Brittany said.
She ushered Santana towards the stairs, not thinking that they would track blood and guts with them. Santana stopped her and pointed to the window of the basement, too faint and powerless to verbalize her idea. Brittany nodded and stood on a crate to open the window, scurrying out onto the lawn and reaching down to offer her hand to Santana. Any other time, Santana would have laughed and refused her hand, since she was a hundred times stronger than Brittany, but now she took it without thought, letting Brittany help her out of the blood-soaked basement into the cool night air.
More than anything, Santana wanted to hold Brittany as close to her as possible, grateful for her safety. But Brittany was soaked in vampire remains, which she wanted nothing to do with. Brittany seemed to understand that, as she immediately stripped down to her underwear, walking a few yards over to where she picked up a garden hose, twisted on the knob, and began rinsing herself off. It would take a thorough scrubbing or twenty to get all the globs of bloody goo out of her hair and skin, but a preliminary rinsing was in order. Santana stood stock-still, unable to move as she watched Brittany shift from foot to foot as she rinsed her legs.
When Brittany was done, she turned off the water and shook herself like a dog to fling off some of the water. She pulled her blood-stained hair back into a stiff ponytail and checked herself again for places she missed.
"I think we should go home now," she said, as though it was almost funny.
Santana's eyes widened. Obviously she wasn't going to let Brittany stay at her parents' house, but what were they going to do about the mess in the basement? And what about the fact that Santana had just committed murder for the sake of protecting a human?
"You want me to drive?" Brittany asked, casually.
"Britt," Santana said, looking Brittany up and down. "You're in your underwear, covered in blood."
Brittany shrugged. "Eh. No one will see."
Santana gaped at her. How was she acting so cool about this? "Britt, I just killed someone!" she gasped. She would murder a hundred times over to protect Brittany, but she never wanted Brittany to see her do something so violent and heartless.
Brittany bit her lip, realizing that what Santana said was true. "We better hide, then."
Santana's thoughts were swirling so rapidly, she couldn't cling to one to decide the best course of action. The only thing she knew was that she wanted to keep Brittany as safe as possible. The only place she could do that was at her house.
She picked Brittany up, trying not to pay attention to the way the blood-tinged water from Brittany's skin soaked into as she carried Brittany in her arms, racing back to her house. Once she got inside, she set Brittany down and bolted the door, running around to lock every window and draw every shade. She set the alarm system, then turned back to Brittany.
Brittany was standing by the door, looking down at her feet, making sure she didn't get blood or water, which had dried to a sticky mess in the wind as she was carried, anywhere but on the mat directly inside the door. She looked so small and fragile, Santana's heart started to squeeze, as though Brittany were doomed by her humanity. She picked her up again, trying to hide any of the desperate fear she felt, and walked as gracefully as she could into the master bedroom, then placed Brittany down on the marble of the master bathroom.
"I'm going to help you-" she hiccuped, "rinse off."
Brittany stood still, watching Santana.
"And then what?" Brittany asked. She sounded afraid, as though she'd realized that she was the target of something bigger and more threatening than a single vampire's attention.
Santana became more agitated, but busied herself turning on the shower, jerking the knob several ways to get it on and at the right temperature. When it sputtered on, but remained frigid, Santana broke into tears. "I don't know!" she sobbed. "I don't know what to do!"
Brittany rushed forward, prying Santana's hands off the knob of the shower and turning her to face her. She cupped Santana's hands together in her own and stared into her with fierce protectiveness.
"Santana, stop," Brittany said. She waited until Santana stopped trembling hard and then whispered, "I'm a big girl. It's not your job to protect me."
Santana keeled forward with sobs. "Yes it is... yes it is," she blubbered. "I dragged you into this world! It's my fault you're here!"
Brittany wrapped her arms around Santana and squeezed her for several long minutes as the water ran cold in the shower. "No, it's not," Brittany hushed again. "I went looking for a vampire to bite me. I knew this could happen."
Santana whimpered, remembering their first meeting and loathing the way she'd treated Brittany, but also Brittany's recklessness. Now both of them were in the crosshairs of a death threat, and Santana had no clue how to shepherd either of them to safety.
Brittany squeezed Santana again and said, "It's gonna be okay. We'll figure out what to do. For now, we're safe here."
Santana took a deep breath, feeling it spread through her chest and limbs, and wished with her whole being that Brittany was right. After another moment, she let go of the panic that had seized her and dropped into hopeless stillness. Something bad was going to happen, and there was nothing she could do about it. She let Brittany pull her into the shower and together they scrubbed off every bit of blood and goo.
Santana felt drained afterwards. Her whole body was heavy, as though she had swallowed silk-covered silver and it pulled her toward the earth the way Brittany's binds did her limbs. She had none of her vampire speed or ferociousness. Brittany sensed it, and after she toweled off Santana's hair, she pulled her down to the basement and into her coffin, stroking her hair until she fell asleep.
Once Brittany was asleep and her mental stillness afforded Santana the ability to think without the influence of Brittany's feelings, Santana's mind started to race again. Images flashed through her mind, reels of footage from the moment she had jabbed the stake into the vampire's back to Brittany's first bite. Between images of Brittany smiling and writhing in pleasure beneath her, she saw flashes of herself, fangs bared, overpowering Brittany, dragging her into the vampire world. Santana suddenly saw their relationship differently. Brittany had been brought in against her will, coerced without knowing anything of the evil inside Santana, not knowing how much danger awaited her. As Santana watched more images play through her mind at a quickening speed, her heart started to race. Eventually all she could see was her hand jabbing the stake into the vampire's back, as though she were watching herself commit a thousand murders in ten minutes' time.
She knew she needed to take action, and soon.
Santana slipped out of their coffin and tiptoed up the stairs into the living room. After spending all day yesterday in the light, night felt different. It felt more dead and foreboding. But Santana was in so much anguish, she welcomed it. She felt guilty as she slipped out into the night, taking care to lock the door behind her. But as long as Brittany was in the house, she would be safe from anyone seeking vengeance for the murder Santana had committed.
Once she was far enough away that she as certain Brittany wouldn't hear her footsteps, Santana tore into a run. Her heartbeat dulled the further she got from Brittany, putting distance in their bond. The father away she got, the more she let her self-loathing consume her. She was the most horrible thing that had even happened to a human. As her lungs started to burn, she wished the rest of her would burn. She wanted to be consumed by something that would relieve her agony. She wished she had the option of running into the sunlight and going down in flames.
She ran and ran and ran until she was further into the forest than she'd ever been. Every branch and bush she passed seemed to taunt her, to remind her of her nature, a nature she should never have exposed to Brittany. Her very existence threatened the good within Brittany, and she hated herself for tarnishing it. Her thoughts raced faster and faster as her limbs started to weaken, until at last she collapsed, sobbing on the floor of the forest, wishing it would swallow her up completely and she would vanish from existence. Then Brittany would be free and might stand a chance to become the wholesome, pure person she had once been.
The only thought that Santana had as she lay crumpled in the dirt, trembling, was that she was poison. The blood that coursed through her was toxic, and she had forced Brittany to drink it. If she had thought it would end her, she would have tried to drain her own veins and let the forest swallow her body up, erasing her evil from the planet, just as it should have done fifty years ago when Quinn found her. If she could ever erase herself from Brittany's life, maybe Brittany would be okay.
And she realized that was what she needed to do. She needed to set Brittany free, to return her to the life she was supposed to have. It was the right thing to do. Even if she was a miserable creature without morals or respect for others' lives, she owed Brittany that.
As her tears poured into the earth at that realization, Santana thought she was the most selfish person in the world for wanting to be near Brittany just one day longer.
Santana didn't know how long she lay there on the ground. She felt dirt pressing into her forehead and cheek, becoming mud with her tears. Her legs went numb where they were crumpled beneath her, and despite being dead, she started to shiver. She would have been content to lay there in her misery forever, had she not heard Brittany calling for her.
Santana... Santana...
Santana started weeping harder. Her instincts told her to fly to Brittany's side, to soothe her and protect her and promise to never leave her. But her mind, currently steeped in self-hatred and convinced she was poisoning Brittany, willed her to stay on the forest floor.
It seemed her body always won, though. She ripped herself from the ground, not bothering to brush off the twigs and mud, and ran back home. All her muscles ached, and her heart was heavy.
The whole way back, she followed Brittany's voice.
Santana... Where are you? Are you okay? Santana, please answer me. I need you.
Santana's footsteps quickened with the urgency of Brittany's voice until she found herself on her doorstep once more. She raced down into the basement where she could feel Brittany's heart pulsing, and was surprised to find Brittany was still asleep. How was it that Santana had been able to hear her voice in the heart of the forest?
Santana looked down at the face of the innocent girl she loved. She started weeping again, regretting the way she was poisoning such a precious creature. Before she could stop herself, she put her hand on Brittany's back. If she could just feel Brittany's warmth, feel that she was okay, then she might have some hope that Brittany could return to a normal existence once she was gone.
As soon as Santana's hand touched her back, Brittany stirred. She opened her eyes, looking up to see Santana above her. She frowned.
"Baby... Why are you covered in dirt?"
Santana realized that she hadn't bothered to clean herself off after lying on the ground in the forest.
"I went for a walk," Santana mumbled.
Brittany sat up. "Are you sure you weren't digging a hole for a bomb shelter or maybe snuggling with gophers?" Brittany put her hand on Santana's and then her eyes grew concerned. "Baby, you're shaking."
Santana trembled harder, willing her tears to stay tucked in, but failing. This was going to be the hardest thing she'd ever done.
Brittany pouted up at Santana. "Santana, stop beating yourself up. I would have staked that guy too, if I'd been as quick as you."
Santana said nothing, just kept staring at Brittany. She swallowed. She had to do what she knew was right.
"Brittany," she said, her voice hoarse. "We can't keep living like this."
"It'll get better, I promise. It's normal to be shaken up after seeing someone die."
"No, I mean you and me. We can't keep doing this. We need to..." She hiccupped. "Break up."
Brittany stared up at Santana, stunned. "What?"
"I can't keep poisoning you," she choked. "Ever since you met me, things have been horrible for you."
"That's not true," Brittany protested. "My life has never been better."
Santana shook her head, taking a step back so her hand slid out from under Brittany's. "You're sleeping in a coffin with a dead girl. Do you realize how fucked up that is?"
"I don't think there's anything wrong with it," Brittany said, her voice toughening.
"It's wrong," Santana insisted. "You need to be around living people."
"You have independent thoughts and feelings. You even have a pulse. You are just as alive as anyone else."
"But I can turn off my heart whenever I want. That's messed up."
Brittany's shoulders curled toward her chest for a minute as she studied the sheets tangled around her legs. She held her hands together in front of her before she looked up at Santana with dark, almost angry eyes. "So don't turn it off."
"What?"
"Don't turn your heart off," Brittany challenged. "That's what you're doing right now, isn't it? Pretending you don't have feelings so I'll go?"
"No, I'm doing this for your own good."
Brittany stood up, stepped out of the coffin, and stalked toward Santana with surprising speed and anger, backing Santana toward the wall of the basement. "You don't get to decide what's good for me. I'm a grown woman and I am just as capable of making decisions as you are."
"But you had no idea what you were getting into."
"Like hell, I didn't," Brittany scowled. "The fact that I'm human doesn't mean my wishes don't count."
Santana was quiet for a minute.
"I thought you had more respect for me than this," Brittany muttered, heading for the stairs.
"Britt, I do respect you," Santana said, her guilt weakening her voice.
Brittany glared over her shoulder at Santana. "Then don't try to break up with me for my own good, because that's bullshit. If you want out, just-" Her strength buckled as she reached the landing. "Just tell me. Because saying you're trying to protect me is not only bullshit, it's insulting." She took a few steps and closed the door behind her with a bang.
Santana felt even worse now. She realized that in her mind, she did consider Brittany to be more fragile than she was. Watching Brittany stalk up the stairs and plod into the kitchen to start making a sandwich, burning with anger, reminded her that Brittany was strong. She had always been strong.
Perhaps Santana had been projecting her own weakness onto Brittany this whole time. Perhaps she was the delicate one.
Fueled by guilt, Santana followed Brittany, head bent in shame. As Brittany slammed the refrigerator door shut, Santana took a breath the begin speaking. "You're right," she mumbled. "You're an adult and you'll make the best decisions for you."
Brittany was quiet for a moment as she forcefully prepared a peanut butter and Nutella sandwich. Santana waited anxiously, hoping Brittany would forgive her. After Brittany swallowed her first bite, she said, more softly, "Do you still want to break up with me?"
Santana shook her head vehemently. "I want to keep you safe. I just don't know how to do that."
Brittany gave her a slow nod as she took another bite. Once she swallowed it, she said, "I'm safe here."
Santana took a seat at the table, hands in her lap. "I hope so," she said in a small voice. When Brittany didn't respond, Santana caved completely. "Please stay. I want you to. I'm just so afraid of what's going to happen. When I get scared, I say stupid things."
At that, Brittany softened. She reached for Santana's hand and squeezed it. Santana felt relief flood her ribcage, and was grateful for it.
Brittany gave Santana a sad smile. After a moment she said, "Well, I know one thing that's going to happen. You're going to come to the Spring Mixer with me like you promised."
And that simple sentence seemed to set everything back into tentative, peaceful order.
The next few days passed in vigilant quiet. Santana stiffened at every strange noise, every car she heard on the road outside. Brittany took to writing down a list of happy things to think about so she could easily calm Santana, and Santana felt guilty for burdening her with that. But she had to admit, it did help. She gradually built up her strength, until her dread was no longer paralyzing, but offered a rare motivation to figure out what she was going to do next. They even had sex a few times, though it wasn't as electric as before.
Santana ventured onto her computer and was surprised to discover that the mess in the Pierce basement hadn't made the news. Brittany shrugged and reminded Santana that the Church was powerful and only let certain information make it to the press. She had texted her parents about something mundane to make sure they were okay, not mentioning the damage to the house. Her dad texted her back a snide remark about something meeting its timely end near the washing machine. Santana felt sick at that, and Brittany stopped texting him.
After three days, Brittany approached Santana cautiously. "I want to talk about that thing you keep avoiding."
"The sun? I don't have to avoid that anymore," Santana said.
Brittany sighed at Santana's stubbornness, but forged ahead. "If I become a vampire, I can defend myself and my family against whatever is plotting against us. You wouldn't have to worry about draining or hurting me. Pretty much all our problems would go away."
Santana pursed her lips in a hard line. "Except the part about your parents hating you after you're turned."
Brittany's head dropped in an admission that Santana was right.
Santana took a deep breath, trying to close the conversation. "It's not happening, Britt. You're staying human. You're going to have a normal life, become a veterinarian, and grow old like you should. Like I should have."
Brittany frowned in objection. "Who are you to decide what a normal life is?"
Santana didn't have a response to that.
"There's no such thing," Brittany continued. "Just because you were miserable for fifty years doesn't mean I would be. I'd be happy, because I'd be just as strong and fast as you, and we'd get to be together forever."
Santana stayed quiet, trying to stonewall Brittany into dropping the subject.
"Did you hear me?" Brittany asked.
"Yep."
"We'd get to be together forever."
As beautiful as it sounded, Santana wasn't ready to negotiate Brittany's mortality. Thankfully she didn't have to, as her phone chimed in the other room. She got up and retrieved it, seeing a text message from Quinn.
I need to see you immediately.
Santana felt her body run cold and Brittany appeared in the doorway.
"What's wrong?" Brittany asked.
"Quinn wants to see me." Santana was already running through the mental list of happy things she had, trying to stay calm until she was out of close proximity to Brittany. She didn't want Brittany to worry.
"Okay, let's go over there," Brittany said, reaching for her keys.
"You're not coming with me," Santana gasped.
Brittany pouted, but set her keys down again. "Okay."
"I'll be back in a bit," Santana said, picking up her own. "Then we'll go to the mixer like we planned."
Brittany forced a smile of hope, kissing Santana on the cheek at the door.
As soon as Santana entered Quinn's house, she knew she was in trouble. Quinn was in her usual spot on the chaise, surrounded by book and teacups that once contained blood. She didn't look up.
"Sue wants to see you," Quinn said, with cool, mirthful words.
A chill ran through Santana's already-cold body. "What?" It wasn't so much a question as a soft gasp.
"You really stepped in it this time, Santana."
Santana swallowed. Getting called to see the Queen was never a good sign for a common vampire. A sheriff or elder might not sweat it, but Sue had no business with Santana unless it was bad business.
"You'll go see her tonight," Quinn said, her words light, as if they weren't supposed to be threatening.
"Can I have another day?" Santana asked, thinking about how she'd promised Brittany to go to the spring mixer with her.
Quinn just gave a closed-lipped, unamused giggle. "As your Maker, I command you-"
"Okay, okay, I get it!" Santana said through her teeth. "Jeez, you don't have to use it every time you want me to do something."
"If only that were true," Quinn sighed. "But if I didn't use my Maker status over you, you'd never do anything."
"That's not true!"
Quinn said nothing, only looked up from her book as she turned the page.
"You'll go to see Sue tonight and carry out whatever demands she makes by morning."
Santana swallowed, frightened. Of course Sue would make demands of her, and she could only imagine they would be unsavory.
"Can I at least go see Brittany first?"
"No," Quinn said, as though Santana had asked if she wanted to watch TV. "Just go straight there."
"Can I text her?"
"You have a phone and you have fingers," Quinn said, gesturing through the air. "Do as you wish."
Santana swallowed and nodded. "Okay."
Quinn turned the page of her magazine. "If I were you, I'd be verrrrry careful what I said around the Queen."
"I will be," Santana said. "Don't worry."