Hey, it's me. Back again. Updating.I'm super tired right now, and I don't think this chapter makes sense, like the grammar and spelling and all is pretty screwy. I honestly can't believe I'm tired. It's 10:30. W.T.F.

:/

Disclaimer: I don't own glee. Blah blah blah. If I did I would definetly rename it "Brittana for a freaking hour."

That, ladies and gentlemen, was attempted humor when I'm half awake.

Quinn and Santana found themselves at this boring old resteraunt called Breadstix, after Santana had licked her wounds clean(quite literally) and Quinn had tried to work some healing magic she learned from a Wiccan lady when they had lived in Salem a while ago.

The reason they chose Breadstix was that Santana loved breadsticks, and the brunch special had unlimited bacon, so Quinn was all in. Seriously, Santana had no clue what the deal was with Quinn and freaking bacon. They were both werewolves…so pigs were like their cousins, if you actually thought about it. Just…ew. Ew.

"Look at that girl." Quinn said, nudging Santana with her fork, leaning in and pointing to a blonde girl, eating at a booth across the room. Another girl was with her, a brunette who was probably shoter than Snooki from Jersey Shore. Santana rolled her eyes.

"I can't get into a relationship, Q. I can't even talk to girls! Not with what we are."

"Wait, you mean two smoking hot lesbian bitches?" Quinn said honestly, shoving a piece of bacon into her mouth as she smirked at Santana, who rolled her eyes in response, typical behavior for their somehow functional relationship.

"Shut up." Santana threw part of a hasbrown at Quinn, who opened her mouth and caught it with a simple flick of her head.

"Go talk to her. Now." The tone in her voice was commanding and ridicule, as she tried some commanding persuasion. It worked almost every time, but Santana wasn't to keen on giving in, and, after all, she was known as the fiery Latina.

"No." Santana crossed her arms and practiced her HBIC glare.

"Yes." Quinn replied, crossing her arms. She hated when Santana wouldn't listen to her, because, in all honesty, Quinn was used to being listened too. She kind of expected people to listen to her, like she was the Queen of England. Or something.

"No, Q." she snapped.

"Yes, S." Quinn snapped back. She sipped some of her water, looking at Santana, trying not to smile, "Hey. That rhymes."

"No shit, Sherlock." Santana replied, rolling her eyes. These were as close to fights Santana and Quinn would ever have, them somewhat playfully pitching insults at each other, constant eye rolling and smirking, and a whole bucket load of name calling.

"Santana. I'll give you five bucks if you go talk to her."

"You don't have five bucks, Q-Tip." Santana said, not really trying, because she really wanted to talk to the girl anyway. Something about the girl brought on some curiousity, maybe it was that she resembled the girl in her dre—wait. The girl in her dream.

"I'm going,Quinn!" she sat up with newfound vigor, biting her lip as she walked up to the girl and her accomplice, the brunette who dressed like the fantasy of a perverted Japanese bussinessman and had a nose bigger than Horton the Elephant.

"Hello there!" the chipper brunette said, tucking her bangs behind her ear, but they disobiediently bounced back to where they resided in front of her face.

"Uh..hi." Santana gave her a look she hoped would say "I couldn't care less." To the small girl it must have looked like a gesture of hospitality because her whole life story went tumbling out next.

"I'm Rachel Berry! Maybe you've heard of me? I post videos on MySpace and YouTube every Friday, have you seen them? I cover popular Broadway show tunes, and occasionally some pop songs, I can give you my username if you haven't heard of me, doubtful—"

"Shut up," Santana snapped, "I don't want to hear it. I don't care what you have to say." Instead she turned to the other girl, and almost gasped. She had those same slanted eyes, the same slightly bigger than normal nose, the long, curly blonde hair that fell in light wisps around her shoulders, the same deadpan expression.

"Brittany." She said, "You're that girl from my dream."

"Who are you? Are you friends with Lord Tubbington?" she asked, looking right at Santana with that same pair of eyes that searched her deeper than two oceans.

"Who the hell is Lord Tubbington?" Santana muttered. She glanced back at Quinn sitting at the booth, trying to look like she wasn't spying on them. Seeing Santana, she shoveled a gob of food in her mouth, one elbow on the table.

Quinn, Santana warned, channeling her thoughts toward the dainty blonde, who rolled her eyes and took her phone out, starting on a round of Angry Birds.

"Who's Quinn?" Brittany asked, pure innocence.

"Quinn? I didn't hear anything about a Quinn,Brittany." Rachel said, loudly and obnoxiously. Quinn, who was half paying attention to her app on the other side of the room, jerked her head up and glared at Santana.

The second you make me stop listening, you go and talk about me. Nice going, San—

Stop, Q. The girl can hear us.

Explain?

"What's going on?" Brittany asked, glancing around the room, "Who are you talking to? I don't see anybody…"

Santana tensed. Brittany, the girl in her dreams could somehow hear them talk. Santana had never heard of something like that, in fact it kind of creeped her out. She was used to private conversations between her and Quinn, and someone unknowingly invading them was not something she enjoyed or needed.

"Umm…nevermind. I don't actually know you. You look like someone I know. From a dream. Here, I'll be staying at the Lima Hotel. Come visit me. Or, you know what, nevermind. I'll find you." Santana said, the words jumping out of her in a rush. If she stayed any longer, Brittany would ask questions, and then she would have to tell her the dream that she was in had something to do with her being tied to a rock. And, you know, about to be killed by three werewolves.

She walked up to Quinn, who was just finishing up paying, and yanked on her elbow. In surprise, Quinn toppled out of the booth, falling in a heap on the floor. Santana stalked ahead, with an air of uncanny confidence.

Quinn, not wanting to be left behind, walked up behing Santana, about to open her mouth and tell her off. Santana beat her too it.

"Quinn. We need to do some research."

Santana wasn't really sure about werewolf dreams. Sometimes, they were spot on accurate. But lately, they were less and less accurate and more like real dreams. Especially her last one, the one where she had gone to the clearing to meet Brittany for the first time. That was weird, considering she saw the blonde today and she had no clue who Santana was. And she wasn't chained to a rock. Maybe the dream was to signify a metaphor, where Santana had to rescue Brittany from three people who were bringing her down. Was that to chee—yeah. Too cheesy.

Santana wondered why she didn't do anything to try and warn the blonde. Maybe because she and Quinn had spent sixteen long years hiding from discovery,and wasting it away on one person who probably would call her crazy was not something she wanted to do. She would come find her, just to make sure she was okay. Brittany's scent was still making itself known to Santana's keen wereowolf senses, so if she and Quinn phased tonight they could probably find where Brittany lived and maybe figured this whole thing out. But first, she needed to research werewolf dreams. And where do you find out about everything and anything? Google.

That's how they found themselves at the William Mckinley High School library, poring over information on the computer regarding werewolves. Lima was relatively small, so the only library present was the one in the high school, which even remained open during spring break. You know, because it was spring break right now.

Quinn had taken the time to enroll them in the high school. Every time they entered a new school, Quinn would be the one responsible for making sure they got in, besides the fact they stayed in hotels wihtout any parents. Without any parents being the important part her.

It was a special added werewolf knack she had, the ability to persuade people with her charismatic tone and her warm meltable hazel eyes. It was the Quinn's secret argument winning weapon of pure destruction.

"Quinn." Santana said to Quinn, who was walking into the library, holding two cream colored files Santana could only assume were theirs.

"Yeah? Any research on werewolf dreams? And are you going to tell me why that girl could hear us?" Quinn had been annoying Santana about Brittany overhearing their conversation. She thought that San had something to do with the fact the mortal could hear them.

"Quinn! I don't know! Stop bothering me about it!" she yelled, smacking her hand on the wooden desk.

"You know," Quinn said, a sly grin splayed across her face, "I have some pretty presuasive tactics. I can tell the principal that you're…I don't know…a freshman? Yeah."

"Easier work! Yeah!" Santana grinned back. Quinn scowled.

"Anyways, Q, I did the research. You want to hear it?"

How's that for a cliffhanger? .

Honestly, I was just to lazy to finish it off...and I'm kidding that was nothing close to a freaking cliffhanger.

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~CJ out