Title: Just A Girl (7/10?)
Author: Race122VE (Coll)
Pairing: Santana/Brittany
Rating: R (mostly language, then violence and some semi sexiness as the fic goes on)
Summary: "But…you're just a girl." Glee AU fic.
Word Count: Just about 4k.
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Author's Note: Apologies for the delay. Life has been kicking my ass. This part is also unbeta'd so, any mistakes belong to me. Also thanks to everyone who's been reviewing and sticking with me and enjoying the story. I'm gonna work really hard to get the next part up. And, even though there's a ? after 10, this story is looking to be ten parts, plus an epilogue. BUT...I am working on an outline for a sequel. So...yay! Anyway, enjoy...also, sorry about the short length, but ye'll got over 6k last time...

Chapter 7

Santana's standing in the middle of Will Schuester's kitchen when everything hits her.

When Quinn told her to leave, to run, Santana went on autopilot, the Slayer took over, whatever you want to call it. Quinn was right, she couldn't be at the school, she couldn't let the cops get a glimpse of her coated in Puck's blood, so she ran.

Minutes of running passed before her mind started to think about where she was supposed to go.

Her house wasn't an option. She wasn't entirely sure what Quinn was going to say to the police or if her name was going to be brought up, but if it was their next stop would be her house. She spares a second to think about her mother's reaction to the police showing up before shoving it away.

There was no time for that.

Sue Sylvester was another option, probably the better one since she wanted to get herself together, come up with a plan (a good one that was going to work, this time) to save Brittany…and Rachel.

Now that she was standing in Mr. Schue's, after climbing a tree near his bathroom window and sloppily breaking in, she realized this was where she was supposed to go.

Because Santana needed to breakdown.

When she fell on to the tile floor of his bathroom, she cursed at the sound that it made. Glee Club was supposed to be having a meeting, after all, and the last thing she needed was for one of them to inspect what made the sound and discover Santana laying a top broken glass, covered in blood.

She remained crouched before slowly rising and stepping forward, tilting her ear towards the door and listening. She heard nothing and chanced opening the door a crack. The apartment was silent, dark, and empty.

Santana stepped out and into the kitchen when she first felt the all the feelings creep up on her.

The sight of an empty apartment when Mr. Schue was supposed to be here led her mind to think that vampires had come here too, that all of her friends were kidnapped or dead.

But reason stepped in, reminding her that vampires can't enter without an invitation, that the apartment was merely empty, not disheveled or showing any signs of a breaking in (other than where she broke in).

The sudden fear, however, was too close to the surface to be contained.

Santana's body, exhausted from the run, gave up and her knees slam painfully on to the hardwood floor and she settles back on her legs. Tears are now freely flowing down her face, mixing with sweat and dried blood as she lets herself think about what just happened.

Brittany was gone. With Rachel. Puck was dead. Everything was shit.

And Santana is the one to blame.

After a couple minutes she's not even thinking anymore, she's just violently sobbing and shaking and trying to catch her breath as if she's drowning in her own tears.

Her hand comes up to wipe at the tears, but she stops and looks at it. It looks like something straight out of a horror movie, but Santana's focused on the way her hand is been balled into a fist and holding on to the one thing she has left of Brittany. On the way over it was the last thing she could think about, now it's the only thing.

It feels heavy, and she doesn't want to open her fist and see the remainder of Brittany bloody and tangled so she shoves it into her pocket.

The front door opens in the next room and her head snaps up, looking in that direction. She waits and listens to the shuffling as her eyes scan the kitchen for a makeshift weapon. Santana rises silently to her feet and walks over to the knife block, grabbing the largest handle and holding the knife in front of her.

Everything is still dark and her body is still buzzing from the fear and adrenaline pumping through her system that she doesn't pay any attention to her senses that are trying to calm her, reason with her, tell her that whatever's happening, it's not a vampire. But she ignores it. She's not going to let herself assume things anymore; she's going to cover all the bases.

The lights in the living room flip on and she shoots across the kitchen to flatten herself against the wall next to the entrance. The footsteps get closer and a hand darts forward, groping for the light switch in the kitchen. Santana grabs the wrist, yanking its owner into the kitchen and against her body, bringing the knife to settle against their neck.

"Santana!"

Of fucking course its Mr. Schuester, who else would it be?

But she's scared and upset and shaking and all she can do is loosen her grip on his body. He feels it right away and rushes forward, one hand rubbing his neck while the other clings to the kitchen counter with white knuckles.

He turns and his eyes go wide and his mouth drops open.

The knife she's holding is still extended in front of her, shaking because she can't keep her hand steady. She watches as Mr. Schue takes in her appearance, the blood. He swallows against his shock and steadies himself.

"Santana," he repeats, softer this time and holding his hand up in front of him. "It's OK. It's safe. Put the knife down."

Their eyes lock and she can sense his calm. She can feel it begin to slowly wash over her body and she lowers her hand and lets the knife clatter to the floor.

There are a million questions she wants to ask, but they stand and stare at each other a little longer. Her mouth opens and closes as stray tears still make their way down her face and Mr. Schue sees it, he gets it, so he starts to tell her what happened.

"I just came from the school," he begins. "I saw Quinn, but we didn't talk. The police were talking to her and decided to take her to the station where her dad would pick her up. Then I saw the paramedics were loading Puck into the ambulance-"

"Ambulance?" she questions.

Will nods, "They said he lost a lot of blood-"

"He's alive?" Santana asks, still not really believing what Mr. Schue is saying. "Puck's alive?"

He looks back at her and it's like he's seeing how the whole night has truly effected her and he knows exactly what to say and how to make her hear it.

"Puck is alive."

Knowing that information…it feels like a win.

Then, just as soon as she begins to take comfort in something, Santana feels like she's betraying Brittany.

And Rachel, she keeps forgetting about Rachel and then feeling shitty about that too.

The small flicker of happiness, of relief, that she feels knowing Puck is alive and not dead like she thought is snuffed out and all the emotion swells and crashes down on her all over again.

Santana's legs are giving out once more before she knows it. She's falling back to the floor, but Mr. Schuester steps forward, catches her, and holds her close.

It should feel weird. She should be trying to push him away, screaming that he's some kind of pedophile and that she was going to get him fired. It's what the old Santana Lopez would have done.

A huge part of her wishes that she was still that mean girl. Just a stuck up bitch who had built up this wall so no one could get close. Then something like tonight happens. This huge thing that has the ability to change so much and she can't even fathom how anybody could act as selfishly and as mean as she once did.

Any time before, she'd push Mr. Schue away, but now she's leaning in, she's bringing her arms up to grasp on to his sleeves, and she's crying again.

Slowly, Mr. Schue kneels himself on to the ground and Santana folds her legs underneath her and continues to sob and hold on to Will for dear life.

She calms a little, but Will holds on tight and just continues talking.

"I was here first, with the Glee Club," he tells her. Each word, each piece of new information, soothes her and she just listens, realizing that he's starting from the beginning and plans on telling her everything.

It's exactly what she needs.

"You weren't here, obviously, and we were waiting on Quinn, Puck, Rachel, and Brittany," he says. "I didn't start to worry until I noticed Rachel was late. Mercedes said she had to stop by the school to pick up some sheet music."

That's where she must have run into Brittany, she thinks, squeezing her eyes shut against another onslaught of tears.

"After a while and no word from them I told everyone to go home and I rushed to the school and…"

"It's my fault," Santana chokes out.

"I know you're blaming yourself Santana, and it feels like the natural thing to do…but there's no way we could have predicted-"

"I ran into Brittany before going to the choir room," Santana snaps, suddenly angry and pushing Mr. Schue away. He loses his balance and slides backwards on the floor. "We were talking and…" she trails off, not sure if she can actually say aloud what she's thinking.

"I told her to go because I had to get to the choir room," Santana says. "I sent her away. I sent her to Rachel, and those mother fuckers fucking took them."

"It's not your fault," he tells her right away, not a trace of doubt in his voice.

"Bullshit," she spits back. "I sent her away."

"Because you thought the vampires were coming for you in the choir room," Mr. Schue fires right back, and if she wasn't a complete emotional wreck she'd be appreciating how well he's keeping up with her and her attitude. "There's no way of knowing what happened, Santana. The plan didn't work, people got hurt, and we don't know what happened, how, or why…but that's not important.

"The important thing is that we keep our heads on straight, because we're going to save them."

Mr. Schue pushes himself off the floor and walks over to Santana, offering her his hand.

She should take his hand, let him help her up and start planning something, but the guilt was weighing her down.

More specifically, the heaviness of the bracelet residing in her pocket.

"I couldn't even save them tonight," she reminds him, and she knows she's being counterproductive and self deprecating but she can't help it. "I don't even know where to start. We have…fucking jack shit to go on-"

"Which is why we have to regroup," he tells her, bending down and grabbing her hand in his own. "I know that you feel like you can't get up, that it's all hopeless, but you're not alone anymore Santana. I can't imagine how scary it was for you after you left the school and came here, but…"

He trails off, brows knitting together in confusion. "How, exactly, did you get in here?"

"I may or may not have…broken in through your bathroom window," Santana shrugs. "I couldn't come in through the lobby. Fucking look at me."

A deep sigh escapes from Mr. Schue as he nods and gives Santana a once over. He looks at their joined hands, turns them over and purses his lips in thought. "You need to get cleaned up," he tells her, tugging on her hand to get to her feet. "Come on. We'll start there, OK? I'll leave a T shirt and some sweat pants or something in my room for you to change into."

Santana may be a changed person, may have had her whole world shook up and flipped upside down to the point where she doesn't recognize anything anymore, but even she can't hide the scoff that comes out of her mouth, "Ugh…gross."

It lightens the mood as she pushes herself up with Mr. Schue's help who merely chuckles at the notion as well. "Yeah, you do have a point," he says. "I think Terri left a few things here. I can set some stuff out for you."

"Whatever," she mumbles as she makes her way to the bathroom. Santana pauses at the entrance, turns to look back at Will over her shoulder and offers him the closest thing to a smile she can muster.

"You're welcome," he replies, and she's glad to know that Will Schuester has come to know her well enough to know that her 'whatever' followed by a barely there smile is her way of telling him that's she's grateful for everything.

xxxxx

Mr. Schue had laid things out pretty well for her when she got out of the shower and stepped into his room. She threw on a plain, black T shirt followed by a pair of sweats and pulled her hair back into a tight, wet bun before looking up and at her reflection in the mirror across the room. Red, puffy eyes look back as she shovels her blood soaked clothes into a plastic bag Will had left.

Something about it all brought up all the emotions again, but she stamped them back down because now it was time to work. She'd wasted enough time crying, blaming herself, letting the hot, scolding water beat against her back as she furiously scrubbed the blood away from her arms and hands.

Santana couldn't afford this anymore. Brittany and Rachel couldn't afford it.

So Santana sets her jaw, tears her gaze from the mirror as she gathers the bag and exits the room just as Mr. Schue is getting off his cell phone.

There's a pause in him that when he looks up at her. The panic that she feels from his stare, even though he looks completely normal and calm, tenses every muscle in her body and she just instantly knows something else has happened. "What?"

"I called Sue so she could get down to the police station and try to talk to Quinn," he says. "So we could get as much information as we can."

She's still tense, and the robotic way Mr. Schue is talking to her is not helping. "OK…"

"She didn't make it to the police station yet," he continues. "One of them found her."

Sue Sylvester may not be Santana's favorite person in the world, but the idea that something might have happened to her…

"They know she's a Watcher," Will goes on. "And they had a plan tonight too that got messed up. Sue's OK, she's going to get Quinn and bring her back here when she's done with the police cause her dad's out of town, and then we're all going to figure out where we go with what we know."

"But…" she starts out, brow furrowed in confusion. "We still don't know anything."

Mr. Schue sighs, looking away from her and finally showing signs that her feelings are justified. "They want you," he says back, eyes looking downward. "They want to make a trade. They want the Slayer and they know they got it wrong…"

He trails off and she lets it sink in.

For the short time Santana has been a slayer she's faced some pretty fucked up shit, but nothing as organized and as big and scary as what she's dealing with now. There's something very final about it all, something she can't really shake, but she knows, no matter what they all plan, what the inevitable outcome will be.

"Did they give Coach a location?"

Will snaps his head up, looking back suspiciously. "Not where they have Brittany and Rachel, no."

"But they told her something?" she presses.

"We should wait for Sue-"

"We both know what's eventually going to happen here," she cuts in. "I have to make that trade. I don't have a choice."

"We are going to wait for Sue," he tells her, his voice firm and final.

But there is no way she's done. "They could fucking die," she argues as the thoughts of Brittany being surrounds by blood thirsty vampires. She shakes her head at the image of fangs tearing into Brittany's neck. "I just wasted time wiping blood off my body. I'm not going to have her blood on my hands."

They both pick up on it as soon as the 'her' leaves Santana's lips. He's just as tense as she is, but something softens in his eyes. "We're all aware of how unavoidable a trade is going to be, Santana," he starts off cautiously. "All the more reason to take this slow. Come up with some sort of plan so you're not just marching into an ambush, fueled by rage."

He makes sense, somewhere inside she knows this, but how is she expected to just fucking sit around and wait?

She can't wait.

She needs an excuse, needs an out.

Even though she's always felt like punching Mr. Schue at certain times before, she really doesn't want to so it now that he's been taking care of her. It just feels weird and wrong and it's just another thing to add on to the huge pile of shit she has anyway.

The sound of a phone buzzing breaks the silence that filled the room. Mr. Schue sets aside the phone he's holding in his hand to fetch a new one from his pocket. Her phone. She eyes him suspiciously as he hands it over. "I found it on the kitchen floor when I started cleaning up," he tells her. "You must have dropped it."

Santana looks at the screen and groans. "It's my mom."

Will looks down at his watch and sighs. "Glee Club was supposed to be over fifteen minutes ago," he says. "When I talked to your mom about this I told her I'd make sure you'd get home right away."

"How many times have you been talking to my mom?" she sneers.

Will shakes his head. "She's pretty worried about you," he responds. "I'm just trying to help make this easier for you."

"Well…what the fuck am I supposed to do now?" she gestures to the phone. "If I answer I'll have to go home."

"Maybe you should," he shrugs, rushing to continue when Santana opens her mouth to snap back. "We don't know how long Sue is going to be, and it's easier for you to put in some face time and then sneak back out."

And try to find the vampires she thinks, trying to keep her face unreadable as her mind races with possibilities.

Santana takes in a deep breath. She can do this, Mr. Schue seems pretty convinced that's she's going to wait and do the logical thing here. A part of her is trying to argue that she should listen, she should obey, and that going rogue is not the best thing to do.

But then she thinks about Brittany and all sane and logical thinking gets replaced with a strong urge to find the mother fuckers that took her and rip their heads off.

Will watches her, trying to read what's going on inside her head, but she doesn't let it show. She purses her lips and flips her phone open, bringing it up to her ear. "Hello?"

While her mother begins to interrogate her, Santana turns and walks over to the window facing away from Mr. Schue's watching eyes.

"Ma, ma…slow down," she sighs. "We're just finishing now. We got a late start."

It seems to please her mom, but she tells her, sternly, to hurry home. Santana agrees before shutting her phone, taking a deep breath, and turning to face Will. "I told her I was leaving now," she tells him. "I should be back here in an hour or so."

"I'll drive you," he offers. "Then I can wait for you to sneak out."

"No!" she shouts, then hurries on to cover up her outburst. "I'm sorry…it's just…you're safer here, you know."

Santana waits, again, for long, agonizing seconds to see if he buys it.

"This is the safest place for me to be," he agrees, completely oblivious to what her real plan is. "I just don't like the idea of you being out there by yourself."

"Neither should the vampires," she says back, walking past him towards the door. "Because I'm going to kill every, single one that gets in my way."

Her hand is wrapped around the door knob when Mr. Schue calls her name. She freezes and turns her head to the side. "I know there must be a million thoughts and feelings going on with you right now," he trails off, and she can tell how worried he is and how he's trying to choose his words wisely. "I want you to promise me you'll be careful. That you're going to stick to the plan and not go looking for trouble."

It's the last thing she wants to hear because Santana is going to lie to him.

There's no way of convincing her otherwise.

So, she turns, gives him a small, convincing smile, and nods, "I promise."

xxxxx

There's a hole the size of her fist in the stairwell of Will's building that is evidence of just how much she hates herself for lying to him. She's been lying so long now she thought she'd at least be somewhat numb to it, but that would be too easy.

The run over was uneventful, which she was somewhat grateful for. As much as she wanted to get this whole thing over with, she could do it easier knowing that her mother is thinking that Santana is tucked safely in her bed as opposed to staying up late and worrying.

But she had to actually do this.

Go into her home, lie to her mother, then sneak off and probably end up dead.

Before walking up to her patio she stashes the plastic bag containing her blood soaked clothes into the trash can and pulls her keys out of her pocket, fingering them hesitantly as she stands in front of her door.

"Come on Lopez," she mutters to herself. "Pull your shit together."

She pushes open the door, shutting it as quietly as she can behind her, trying not to alert her mom to her presence until she had the chance to run upstairs and change into clothes that actually belonged to her.

"Santana, come here please."

Again, the world fucking hates her.

She swallows the groan in her throat and shoves her hands into her pockets as she makes her way down the main hall towards the sound of her mom's voice in the living room.

"I'm sorry, ma," she begins, hoping to soften the blow her mother was no doubt going to send her way by apologizing right away. "I know I should have called but…"

The sentence drops along with her keys that clatter to the floor when she sees that her mother is not alone.

This can't be happening, this isn't real is the only thing running through her mind as her mom smiles, realizing that Santana is not going to pick up the sentence she dropped. "You're friend stopped by," she explains, motioning towards Matt fucking Rutherford.

Matt stands and smiles with an evil glint in his eye. "Hey, Santana."

Author's Note 2: Sorry about all the cliffhangers.