A/N: I'M SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG. Life kind of bitchslapped me upside the head there, and it took me awhile to regain my bearings. Once again, a hearty and sincere thanks to the wonderful and talented crammit who has been ever so patient with my crazy. Spoiler alert: The reason Brittany is not a vampire in my story is because I could not hope to do vampiric lore the same justice that crammit has managed in her multichapter glory "The Only Choice", which you should all check out and review - especially the most recent chapter because maybe then she'll forget that I haven't had a chance to yet. Ahem.
Chapter Two
Jogging quickly to catch up with her mysterious host's soft, receding footsteps, Santana turns sharply when she reaches the door the blonde had entered before her, and nearly screams when she comes suddenly and unexpectedly face to face with the woman herself. Her pale face is masked by the shadows that fill the unlit room, but her eyes seem to twinkle with an unearthly gleam that has nothing to do with the candlelight.
"Holy motherfu- Um...Hi there. Sorry."
Lines crease the corners of blue eyes, and although Santana can't hear anything over the pounding of her own heart, she's certain the blonde is laughing at her. Hell, if it were me, I'd probably on the floor right now.
Rolling her eyes at her own uncharacteristic skittishness, she straightens her spine and tries to summon as much confidence as she can muster. "Listen, I appreciate your hospitality, but if you could just point me to the nearest phone, I'll call a cab and be out of your ha- I'll be out of here as soon as they can pick me up." She deliberately lets her voice ring sharply, not wanting to show anymore nerves or vulnerability than she already has.
"I'm afraid that's not a possibility at the moment."
She stares bemusedly for a moment, not expecting any response other than polite compliance - until the words register. Eyes narrowing suspiciously, she searches for any signs of foul play in the woman's face. The laughter has faded from her eyes, and the neutral blankness left behind does nothing to soothe Santana's rising fears. She's in an untenable position right now, and only too aware of the fact. Isolated, in a stranger's house - enormous mansion - with absolutely no means of transportation beyond her own two feet if she can't get a cab.
Backing up a step and crossing her arms defensively over her chest, she fixes the half-shadowed stranger with a withering glare. She's intimidated and bullied her way out of worse situations, but something about tonight is putting her off her game. "And why is that?" Her tone is frosty at best, and brooks no nonsense.
"The power seems to be out. I'm going to go check the...check the mechanisms, but in the meantime, allow me to show you to the sitting room. There's a fireplace there that should provide adequate illumination, and warmth as well."
She passes Santana without touching her, but it doesn't put Santana at ease. Hesitation must sound in her footsteps, because after only a few feet, the taller woman stops, turns and finds Santana's suspicious gaze once more.
"Please allow me to assure you, Ms…"
"Santana. Santana Lopez."
Something flickers behind the stranger's eyes, but it's gone before Santana can identify it.
"Santana. Lovely." Thin, elegant shoulders square as the woman draws herself fully erect. Santana takes an instinctive step back at the sudden intangible mantle of authority surrounding her. "Tánaiste-Rí Bhrittaihn Mac a' Phears at your service, but you may call me Brittany if you wish," she bows slightly and Santana has the silly thought that if they'd been shaking hands, her knuckles would be getting kissed right about now. "Ms. Lopez-"
"Santana, since we're apparently on a first name basis." She means it to be friendly, but it comes out terse and strained.
The woman - Brittany - inclines her head graciously. "Thank you. Santana, please allow me to assure you - I mean you no harm. So long as you are under my care, you will be safe." The words weigh so much heavier than the situation calls for, and Santana can't help but believe their sincerity.
"A-alright. I...I didn't mean to imply...It's just, when you do what I do, there's a certain level of...you have to be prepared for anything."
Brittany nods solemnly, but the pity that would usually follow such an admission is absent from her expression. Santana finds the lack thereof strangely comforting.
Turning on her heel, her host leads her back down the hallway to one of the rooms they had initially passed. When the blonde reaches it, instead of entering, she simply holds the door, standing aside to allow Santana to proceed her. Murmuring a flustered thank you, she steps past and rushes into the room, only to stop short when she's met with the pitchy darkness within.
"A moment, if you would…" the soft voice is barely more than a whisper, and the shiver it sends down her spine makes her whole body quake. There's something there, underneath the refinement and quiet courtesy...something deep seated and wild. She's used to picking up on things like that in her johns. Usually it means a bigger take. She's used to it.
The rising heat that swells within her own body in response, she is definitely not used to.
A moment later, a huge flare fills the room, startling Santana so badly she shrieks and leaps in fright, stumbling over something behind her before she can catch herself. She hits the floor with a grunt, wincing as her head cracks against the carpeted floor with a muted thud. When she opens her eyes, Brittany is there, hovering over her with a worried expression.
Dazed from the blow, Santana can only stare in wonder at the flickering lights that reflect in concerned deep blue. A pale hand slides through her hair and cradles the base of her skull, massaging gently against her scalp. The motion stops instantly when it finds the developing lump, and Santana winces slightly at the pressure.
"Santana, are you injured? Can you hear me? Of all the foolish- I'm so sorry, Santana, I didn't even think to warn you. Please, are you well?"
Blinking a couple times to clear the fog in her brain, Santana offers a weak smile and sits up shakily. Brittany follows the motion, falling back to kneel just to her left, eyes still dark with worry.
"I'm fine, honestly. Other than the goose-egg I'm sure is developing on my skull, the only thing injured is my pride." Brittany's features screw into a light frown that. In her somewhat compromised state, Santana can't help but find it cutely attractive.
"A goose...egg? I did not find such a protuberance. Is that a common ailment among hum- ah...is that a common ailment?"
Suddenly, Santana faculties come back in full force, followed closely by blind panic. She jerks away, eyes wide. "Hold the motherfucking phone Blondie, were you about to say 'among humans'? Fucking A, I knew you weren't from around here. Oh God. I'm in a stranger's fucking mansion in the middle of a huge ass storm on fucking Halloween night. I'm gonna die here, and no one's even going to know. I bet there's a whole goddamn wing just for hiding dead bodies. When did my life become a B-horror movie? So what, are you a vampire or something? God, what am I even saying, vampires aren't real. I don't believe in that shi-"
A single, long digit stills her rant with simple pressure against her lips. She stutters to a halt, eyes round with shock, confusion, and no little amount of fear.
Brittany's eyes swim with consternation. Wordlessly, she rises, extending her hand down once she's upright. After a moment's deliberation, Santana accepts, clambering awkwardly to her own feet.
"I did not intend for you find out this way," Brittany admits dispiritedly, and it does nothing for Santana's already frazzled nerves. She eyes the brunette with something akin to guilt in her sober expression. "In truth, I had not intended for you to find out at all, but I suppose there is nothing to be done for it now.
For her part, Santana remains silent. Logically she knows that there are several glaring red flags in this whole mess of a situation, but there's a small tug in her gut, a deep, instinctual recognition that she can't quite bring to the forefront of her mind, compelling her to listen. To trust. To give this Brittany a chance.
Maintaining steady eye contact, the blonde draws herself up once more, as she had when first introducing herself. "I said it before, but please allow me to aver once again, on my honor - on my life - no harm shall come to you where I am able to prevent it."
Santana stares for a moment, measuring the sincerity in Brittany's words. After a long silence, she yields with a resigned sigh. "I honestly can't for the life of me fathom why, but I think I believe you." The insistent pull inside strengthens and starts to pulse, like something trying to escape after years of confinement.
Brittany exhales slowly in relief, and a small but bright smile overtakes her face. "You honor me with your trust. If…" she swallows thickly, clearly attempting to summon courage to her purpose.
The sight of the normally calm, collected woman so visibly shaken by insecurity moves Santana to sympathy, rather reassuring her as it would have in any other case. She can't explain why, but she doesn't like seeing Brittany so unsteady. It just seems...wrong, somehow.
Brittany continues, her tone mostly even. "If you feel it is in you to extend that trust a little further, I would show you the answers to your questions." She pauses to allow for a response, and the hope shining in her eyes is so child-like and earnest, Santana can't help but give in. Sort of.
"My questions?"
"You had several, I believe, regarding this place and what I - who I am. If you still wish to know, I will show you."
Santana shrugs, unable to find a graceful response. "Well, hell," she huffs, jerking a thumb over her shoulder at the front door. "It looks like I'm at least stuck here until the power comes back on anyways. Might as well." A huge peal of thunder crashes outside, rumbling so loudly she can feel the vibrations in her chest even with the deadening effects of being inside, and only serves to drive her point further home. She tosses a cavalier wave in Brittany's direction to signal her permission. It only trembles slightly, but she quickly clenches her fist to hide it. Even despite that, it's obvious the woman - creature? Whatever - it's clear that she sees straight through Santana's bluster, but kindly she makes no mention of it.
"A moment then, if you would."
"Wait." Brittany turns back, halfway back into the hallway. "You...you're not a um...God I can't believe I'm actually asking this - you're not actually a vampire, are you? I just- what?" She stops when she sees the almost offended look on Brittany's face.
"I most certainly am not a vampire," she huffs, and it's actually kind of cute. Here is this completely other-worldly creature, practically dripping with understated power, full-on pouting. Like a little child.
Trying her best to keep the laughter out of her voice, Santana apologizes. "I didn't mean to offend you or anything)," she offers tentatively, and it seems to mollify whatever indignity her question had inspired, because Brittany's face slowly relaxes into sheepishness.
"Of course. I keep forgetting that this is all new to you. If you'll excuse me for a moment, there is something I must fetch. Please, make yourself at home."
Santana nods slightly, more preoccupied with how suddenly...cold and isolated she feels, now that she's alone in the room. She steps closer to the fire, chafing absently at her bare arms. Her eyes drift slowly over the face of the mantle piece, admiring the marbled deep forest green of it. The same knotwork she noticed on the paneling in the hall is etched into the face of the smooth stone, except here there is a break in the pattern to allow for a central engraving - an intricately carved rearing unicorn wrought of more twisting knots. Snorting gently at the childlike fascination her host seems to have with the creatures, Santana turns instead to survey the rest of the room. The suddenness of the fire's flare and her rather embarrassing reaction to it had robbed her of an initial impression of the place, but what she sees now only makes her smile broaden.
The walls are lined floor-to-ceiling with rich, dark oak that gleams under the fire's flickering reflection, giving the room a warm, cozy atmosphere, even despite its relative darkness. The furniture appears to have been assembled without any regard to color scheme or style, and fills the space with a riot of colors and patterns. And yet, she thinks to herself bemusedly, it totally works. The rainbow of hues surrounding her turn what would otherwise be a stately and ultimately boring sitting room into a place of comfort and friendly welcoming.
As she stands observing, the heels of her shoes sink into the thick rug beneath her- for it's not a carpet as she had assumed earlier when she had almost cracked her head open on it, but just that - a huge area rug. It matches the forest green of the mantle perfectly, and looks softer than any material she's ever seen or felt. She tries to remember touching it when she fell, but there was too much else going on for her to recall. She pushes away the sudden urge to lean down and run her fingers across the rug's surface, and instead turns to the far wall.
There are several bookshelves against up against it, filled with books and knickknacks of every imaginable shape and size. She notes with amusement the presence of at least a half dozen more unicorns, each crafted from a different medium, and each more beautiful than the last.
Kindergartner in a woman's body.
A heavy, silken weight falls about her shoulders, and she whirls to find Brittany standing right there, hands hovering just above her shoulders, keeping the robe she just draped there in place. Santana sucks in a quick breath, shocked by the mysterious woman's sudden, silent proximity, and finds herself staring up into intense azure from mere inches away.
Brittany bites her lower lip, pearly teeth setting perfectly against fleshy pink, and the motion draws her attention. It's a strange habit for someone otherwise so elegant, but there's a certain attractiveness to the action that has Santana's stomach clenching pleasantly.
After moment, Brittany tugs once more on the heavy fabric, settling it around Santana's smaller frame, and takes a step back. Santana can't decide if she feels more relief or disappointment at the break in tension, and the knowledge scares her and excites her all at once. Nothing about this night, and this semi-familiar stranger, are normal, and she finds herself completely floundering once again.
"I have...I am not sure where best I should begin," the blonde confesses. Her right hand is clenched around something in the pocket of her slacks, and the knotted muscles along her jawline give her away. She's nervous, more so than she'd probably like to admit.
Selfishly, Santana is a little grateful for the fact. The entire evening, she feels like she's been at a distinct disadvantage, but knowing that whatever Brittany is about to reveal to her is enough to shake even her cool and aloof composure, somehow helps. As if the blonde is deliberately putting them on even ground, with this one simple act.
Taking pity, she reaches for Brittany's free hand and leads them both to the deep burgundy couch that squats directly before the fire, trying with all her might to ignore the sparks that ignite in the nerves of her fingertips when they touch Brittany's warm skin. Once they're seated, bare knees brushing tentatively against charcoal slacks, Santana prods gently, hoping to smooth the way for the obviously unsettled woman sitting so close to her.
"Maybe, if I can make a suggestion…?"
Brittany nods gratefully, her fingers tightening around Santana's.
"You...You're not um...You're not human, are you?"
A subtle shake of the head. No.
Santana takes deep breath, but her fingers stay locked in Brittany's. "Okay. Okay. Um...Well, I guess start with that? Seems the logical choice," she chuckles weakly.
Brittany nods again, but doesn't move. Finally after what seems ages, she pulls her left hand from its hiding place and drops her clenched fist into her lap. Wiggling slightly to free the digits of her right hand, she opens the palm of her left to reveal a blue silk draw-string pouch, small enough to fit completely in the cradle of her palm. With a slight tug, the purse falls open like an flower unfolding in the sun, exposing a small silver pendant on a delicate chain at its center. The pendant itself is nothing remarkable, a simple piece of metal with -of course- a tiny unicorn head stamped on it. Behind the unicorn, Santana can make out a shield, and what looks to be inscription at the bottom, though the words are obscured in the shadows cast by the pouch.
"This...this is for you. It….well. For the moment, it might be better simply to show you." Standing, she holds out the pouch with the necklace nestled within for Santana, careful to keep the metal from touching her skin. When Santana makes no move to take it, she steps closer. "It is safe, I swear to you. It contains a simple charm that will allow you to see me as I am."
"Charm. As in magic? Magic is real?" She sounds like a little kid being told about Santa for the first time, but she can't bring herself to care. Fucking magic. On Halloween night. Go fucking figure, she thinks wryly. She reaches for the necklace, dropping it into her hand carefully, gasping at the warmth pooling in her palm. Looking up at Brittany expectantly, she frowns in disappointment when she remains unchanged before her.
"You…you must don the necklace. For the charm to take its effect, it must be worn." She takes a few steps back, straightening in preparation. Of what, Santana's not sure.
Carefully, the same way she might handle a newborn, she takes the chain and loops it over her head, letting the pendant rest against her skin, just above the valley between her breasts. Pulling her hair from beneath the chain to settle it again, she takes a deep breath and looks up.
And consequently loses all the air in her lungs.
Standing before her - it's still Brittany, but this Brittany...This Brittany is something else entirely.
Her hair is long, nearly to her waist, and perfectly smooth where it drapes over her shoulders and down her back. Delicate, pointed ears emerge graceful from the satin threads. Gone are her pristinely starched shirt and slacks. In their place is a full suit of armor, gleaming orange in the firelight. Silver plates cascade down her chest, her abdomen, her arms, her legs, held together by elegant gold rivets, and laid with golden whorls that flow wildly from piece to piece, swirling with flawless precision across the expanse of each plate. The line of her armor is broken only by the heavy leather belt slung across her hips, supporting the massive scabbard at her left thigh. The sword's handle is gold, and decorated with the same whorls that cover her armor, and a huge sapphire - easily the size of her thumb - is set at the end.
Lifting her eyes, Santana meets Brittany's gaze, and her breath is stolen once again. Her eyes, still that same startling blue, now glow fiercely, as if lit from within, ensnaring Santana, drawing her in.
"I...Oh. I didn't expect...You...you're beautiful." Immediately she drops her eyes to her lap, mortified by her whispered outburst.
Kneeling swiftly, the...elf? She must be an elf, with those ears, Santana thinks, and then nearly slaps herself for the absurd thought.
"Sidhe, is the proper name, but by your kind's estimation, yes. I am elfkind."
Santana's head flies up at that. "She? She who- wait. Can you...Oh God can you read my mind?"
"I...It is not purposeful. I would never invade your privacy in such a crass manner, but there are occasions where your thoughts are so loud, they will enter my conscious mind whether I wish it or no. It is...It is a phenomena unique to you, it seems."
Aghast, Santana can only stare. "Me? Why? What...Can everyone read my mind?" Tears threaten her eyes at the thought. She feels completely overwhelmed, like her head has been crammed full of information with no allowance for her to process any of it. A few short hours ago, the biggest concern in her life was avoiding her roommate's pimp-boyfriend and earning enough to ensure groceries for the next week. It all seems like a world away, now. Brittany's earnest voice pulls her back to the present.
"Oh, no. It is, you and I...There is something between us, I have no explanation for it, but it is there."
For a moment, she's clueless as to what Brittany could be talking about, then she remembers. Mind reading. "Something between us." Her voice is flat, the way it gets when her emotions are running so wild she can't even begin to name them, much less control them. "Like...I don't even know what! Like a spell or something? Is that really a thing? I mean, magic? Seriously. That's what mommies tell their little girls when they don't know how to explain how shitty the real world is. It's not...it's not fucking real."
"And yet, here you sit, wearing a charmed necklace, speaking to a Sidhe in true form." Her voice is gentle and encouraging, not rising to the ire in Santana's own tone. "It is a great deal to take in, I know. I would that I could help you better, but I..." Her hands lift, palms open, in a helpless shrug. "I am at a loss to make this easier for you."
"Well, fuck! Why the hell did you have to say anything in the first place, then? I was getting along just fine before you came along! Just fine!"
Instead of snapping back, Brittany's face falls, and her whole body seems to slump in dejection.
"I know. I shouldn't have interfered. It was...It was wrong and I cannot begin to express the extent of my shame. I beg your forgiveness for my selfish behavior." She kneels, eyes fixed firmly on the ground at Santana's feet, cheeks flushed with emotion.
The deep sadness in the woman's - elf's - voice pulls at something inside Santana, making her heart twinge and her stomach clench at the rawness of it. It's the same unidentified something that finds the practical stranger inexplicably familiar, and for once, Santana lets it rule her actions.
"Look, I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have snapped. I'm just kind of freaking out a little here, and I tend to lash out when that happens. It's a defense mechanism or something, I guess- Brittany." She huffs impatiently when the blonde head remains bowed. "Brittany, I'm trying to be the bigger person here and it's hard to do when you're being all noble and sorrowful or whatever. C'mon."
Blue eyes lift to meet brown tentatively, and Santana gasps at the wetness that fills them. "Geeze, you're really sincere, aren't you?" she questions wonderingly.
Brittany nods solemnly, but makes no move to dry the tears streaking her cheeks.
"Alright, if I forgive you, will you knock it off with the genuflecting shit and come over here so we can talk?"
"I- You forgive me? Truly?"
Smiling faintly at the burgeoning hope in the woman's - elf's - words, she nods firmly and offers her hand for Brittany to take. She can't hide her swift intake of breath at the shock that leaps up her arm at the contact.
Once Brittany has settled herself gingerly on the couch, plated knees knocking gently against bare ones, Santana speaks again.
"You said you were being selfish, earlier, when you basically saved me from Romano. Why? What was selfish about it?"
Brilliant scarlet flies across Brittany's face, filling her cheeks and spreading like wildfire down her neck to disappear beneath her armor. She looks utterly shamefaced, like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar, and it's far more charming than it should be.
"I- that is- I have known you for sometime, from a distance, but I was never to make myself known." She peeks up from where she's staring at her lap, and her graceful eyebrows fly up at the simple nod Santana gives.
For her part, Santana accepts the information quietly, filing it away with the rest of the supposed impossibilities she's experienced this evening. Brittany was right before, there is definitely some kind of connection between them, and strangely, this confession only further confirms it.
When she gives no other reaction, Brittany continues uncertainly, watching carefully from beneath a fringe of blonde lashes. "I have been fighting the wish to reveal myself to you for some time, but when I saw you tonight...I couldn't sit by and watch those- those creatures harm you. And then there you were, in my home, looking...all of the arguments simply flew from my mind. I wanted to know you, Santana, and I wanted you to know me. It was selfish, and wrong, but I cannot regret it. There is something between us, something more than I can explain, and I think, sweet lady, you sense it too."
The sweet endearment, the tender way she's looking at her, all at once it's too much. Before she can think better of the action, Santana lips are crashing against Brittany's with passionate need. When Brittany rises to meet her, passion for unexpected passion, she knows she is lost.