"You know I was mostly kidding yesterday," Santana points out as she follows Quinn, glancing around the prison. It was dreary, even in an early spring, concrete, large metal fences with barbed wire. It looked like most of the prisons she had seen on television, there was barely any grass, there were no amenities, no exercise equipment, no basketball hoop. It was just concrete and walls. When Quinn doesn't answer she continues just to make sure that Quinn understood. "You know, when I said that I'd rather be in prison then be your pet."

Quinn turned to Santana for a moment, her lips quirking upwards. "Is that it, now that you're no longer talking a big game about how you can handle anything. Shocking."

Santana scowled, she was tempted to just simply head back to the car, but she didn't trust that Quinn wouldn't just abandon her here anyway, if she didn't 'behave' herself. "I don't think I'm asking for much. I just want to be treated as if my opinion matters."

Quinn glanced over at Santana, "Why? Why should we value your opinion more than any of our other advisors? What have you done let alone said that hasn't been tainted by your bias against vampires? You hear rumors and spout them out, yet there are strict laws for vampires when it comes to feeding on humans. Who are you to judge any human who wants to allow a vampire to feed from them? It's an intimate experience for a human."

Santana scowls, "I know what I'm talking about," she insists. "Or are you going to deny that there are brothels that cater to that exact thing. That the women and men there aren't addicts in every sense of the word? I've heard the rumors that your bite is like any drug, and just as addicting."

Quinn turns to face Santana and placing her hand on Santana's jaw to force her to look at her. "You're being judgemental. If you wish to know how it feels then perhaps if you ask nicely I'll oblige."

Santana frowned and shoved Quinn's hand away, "Yeah, that's never ever going to happen, and get your hands off me. As if I don't get sexually harassed enough by Charlie," Santana scowled.

Quinn studied Santana for a moment before turning around so she could continue to walk into the prison. "Which is why we give you a choice, something that many of my kind wouldn't. Not all vampires were made equal, something I assumed a human understood."

Santana swallowed, "Yeah, some people are born with a silver spoon up their ass, but that doesn't mean that they're better than someone like me who wasn't born with a lot of resources. Things should be equal."

"How?"

"What?" Santana asks as she follows Quinn, jogging after her.

Quinn stood still as the doors slid open and she walked through nodding at one of the guards who bowed. "How would you make things equal? Would you create a world where we rip every newborn child from their parents and raise them in a controlled environment? Will we monitor every single pregnancy destroying those that don't have the correct genetic pattern? How would you make things equal?"

"I—well—" Santana sputters.

"You haven't given it much thought, have you? Idealism without pragmatism is problematic, as lovely as it sounds everyone being equal it's simply not the case in reality. So, what should we do?"

Santana stared at Quinn who turned to look at her, she couldn't help but scowl in response. Disappointed she couldn't think of something to respond to Quinn. "You have the power to make things fairer—"

"Life isn't fair. There is no perfect utopia and perhaps it's time you understood that." Quinn said as she turned to one of the guards as they were buzzed in. "The prisoner, where is he?"

"Your eminence. When I heard that you were coming I—"

Quinn turned her head towards the new voice and studied the man for a moment, watching as he dabbed at his forehead nervously. "Get on with it. Where is my prisoner."

"About that my eminence—" The man swallows nervously, shrinking under Quinn's sharp gaze. "There was an incident last night—uck." The man struggles as Quinn suddenly appears in front of him and slams him against the wall her, a hand wrapping around his neck.

Santana stumbled backwards surprised by the sudden aggression from Quinn, she hadn't expected it and judging from everyone else in the room, they hadn't expected it either.

"I thought my instructions were clear. In fact, I was certain that I said that if anything happened to that prisoner before I had time to inspect him, then you'd be out of a job, and quite possibly a head Mr.—whatever your name is."

"St—ugh—St. Pierre," he manages to get out. "Your—"

"Your eminence," one of the guards spoke up causing Quinn to turn to him. He shivers under her harsh gaze but straightens up. "The prisoner is still alive, there was an incident last night he attacked several guards took a few of them out. He's in solitary, and he may be a bit battered but we had to pry him off one of the guards. We've had someone checking in every twenty minutes, in case he started to self-harm."

Quinn dropped the warden and smiled brightly, "Excellent, come along Santana. You—what's your name."

"Howard your eminence. Howard Bamboo."

"Show us the way Mr. Bamboo," Quinn moved doing a small curtsey, bowing her head as he quickly moves towards the door.

Santana frowns, Quinn seemed on edge, it was almost imperceptible. But she had spent enough time around both of the twins to spot the little things. If there was something that frightened Quinn then she knew it was time to be afraid. But, even if Quinn was afraid that was no excuse. "They're scared of you."

Quinn turned to look at Santana for a moment before turning her attention back to Howard Bamboo.

"You didn't need to attack him, or hurt him. He's scared of you they all are." Santana snapped at Quinn. Maybe Charlie would have thought about what she had said but Quinn continued on as if she hadn't spoken. "Quinn—you would have gotten the same answer if you had been patient," Santana tries again trying to keep her tone even.

"Perhaps," Quinn says finally.

Santana exhales slowly feeling her heart even out, it was a start, maybe if she pushed her a bit things would be better for humans. "You said that I was here to remind you of your humanity so that's what I'm doing," Santana reminds her, she doesn't even flinch when Quinn turns to glare at her, she does however smile pleased with herself. When Quinn rolls her eyes, and turns her attention back to where they were going, Santana relaxes for a moment. She definitely could make a difference.

"Santana?"

Santana freezes and turns, the smile that had been on her face began to fade immediately as she turned to look at Artie Abrams who was staring at her from where he was laying on a small concrete slab, shock on his face. "Artie? I—what are you—I mean—are you okay?" It's a stupid question, she feels stupid for even asking something so obvious. He looked haggard, like he was wasting away, and judging from how he moved to sit up his legs weren't working, a present from the deceased Hunter. She swallows, this wasn't good and she looks for help from Quinn.

"What are you doing here? We—I thought you were dead," Artie asks staring at her in shock.

Santana shifts uncomfortably when Quinn stops and turns to look at her, "I'm not. I thought you were dead but then I found out that you weren't. Are they treating you okay?"

"I'm a cripple in an all male prison, and the guards don't give a fuck. What do you think?" Artie spits angrily.

Santana couldn't help but wince at this, she didn't want to imagine what he was going through. She almost felt guilty, all she had to deal with was snarky vampires, who maybe occasionally sexually harassed her. "I can talk to someone make sure—"

"You? What are you even doing here? Shouldn't you be in prison too?"

Santana frowns, she could understand why he was angry and why he was scared, but this wasn't her fault. She had warned them, she had pointed out how badly it would end for all of them. "For what? I'm not a terrorist, I never wanted us to use violence to get our point across. I told you it would end badly, and it did. I wasn't apart of your crazy idea to take out Hunter."

A betrayed looked crossed Artie's face, "Because you think the fucking fangers will listen to us if we fucking protest? You thought that they wouldn't just kill us all anyway? People were going missing, and they didn't give a fuck. We're just fleshy blood bags, that's how they see us."

Santana swallows and is about to make a comment when Quinn clears her throat. "I'm going to see what I can do to make you more comfortable Artie, because we were friends once. But I need you to know that you're wrong. And if you think that hurting innocent people is the right answer, then maybe you deserve to be locked up in here so you aren't a threat to people." With that Santana turns to follow after Quinn.

"Traitor! Blood whore!" Artie screams in his cell knowing, each word piercing her in ways that she didn't know was possible.

"I imagine you don't wish for me to put him out of his misery?" Quinn asks after a moment.

Santana blinks, surprised by Quinn's concern. "No, I don't want you to kill him. Can you make sure he's safe?" When Quinn raises a brow in response, she feels the urge to clarify what she meant. "I know he's a terrorist and I'm not sympathetic or anything. I know it's a lot to ask because he is actually a terrorist, but— no one deserves what he's going through."

Quinn frowns slightly, "Can he even feel it?"

Santana's eyes widen and she immediately smacks Quinn's arm. "Does it matter? You can't seriously be okay with something as barbaric as rape."

"I'm not. But at the same time, he's not an innocent that you're asking me to extend my influence around. His actions, cost the lives of innocent people, and a few shifters. You want me to protect him?"

"He's still a citizen."

"If you wish to use some of my political capital to save him then be my guest, but know that I personally don't care." Quinn responded after a moment, as she continued to walk briskly down the halls.

Santana frowned, she'd mention it to Howard or whoever after the fact. That Artie was to be protected, he wasn't the friend that she had thought he was, but no one deserved that. She's quiet for another moment but Quinn doesn't seem to be interested in any small talk, and she sighs. "So which prisoner is so important that we had to come all the way out here?"

"Another one of your terrorist friends of course," Quinn smiled as they finally stopped in front of a large solid iron door, it was different from all the others that they had passed.

"We have him bound, it was the only way to keep him from his violent outbursts." Howard said as he fumbled with his keys to open the door.

"And he hasn't had any visitors?" Quinn presses after a moment.

"There was another vampire here a few days ago, she inspected the prison, talked to the prisoner that you talked to earlier. We didn't know who she was until later, but we gave her our best service."

Quinn frowns, but nods. "Very good now, if you will—open the door."

Howard fidgeted for a moment more before doing just that only to have the door slam open with a force, pushing him to the ground as a blur moved out of the cell and lunged at Santana. But before she could do anything, scream, fall, take a step back, Quinn was in front of her letting Will, or whatever was left of Will slam into her full force. It's only after the collision that Santana takes two steps back staring at the frothing mess and bloody wrists that was Will Schuester.

"What the hell!" Santana shouted as she felt her back collide with the wall, black tendrils had appeared and were wrapping around Will and pinning him to the ground. "I—what did you do to him?"

Quinn wipes a bit of blood of her face, she wasn't sure if it was hers or his, as she flicks her wrist as Will is pulled back into his cot. "Shit, Sue was right," Quinn mumbled, ignoring Will who continued to try and break free of his restraints. She exhales, before slamming her fist into the iron door, leaving a huge dent in it. "I didn't see it and I certainly didn't smell it. Had he been turned recently—"

"Quinn?" Santana presses again moving closer to the vampire. "What is that?"

Quinn frowned and crossed her arms, "A thrall that has finally lost its mind. This is what we're protecting you against, this is why you gave us power. Because this, this right here is how the South fell. Even a shifter has a hard time putting one of these down," Quinn nods towards Howard before turning her attention on Will. "This is what we protect you against. What we're supposed to protect you against."

Santana swallowed and shivered, glancing around the small cell, there was blood on the walls spattered in the small dents where she was sure that Will had bashed his own head in. "I—is there a cure?"

"Yes." Quinn responds after a moment. "Death."

"You're going to kill him?"

"I don't have a choice; his mind is gone. There is no cure, turning him won't fix it. So, I'm going to drag out the information I need and then I'm going to separate his head from his body. Unless you have a problem with that."

"I—"

"Excellent, now on to business."