This chapter is a little longer. I tried, though.
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Practical Magic. They belong to Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk, FOX, Alice Hoffman, Griffin Dunne and Warner Bros Pictures. I'm only having a bit of fun with them.
Practical Magic
-by HappyValentina
Chapter four: Secrets
A few miles later, driving on some highway, there was no telling when or where they would stop.
Kurt's eyes flickered constantly between the road and the rearview mirror, for a glimpse at his sister's tearstained face. He gripped the steering wheel hard, because it was the only thing that kept his hands from shaking uncontrollably.
Puck was a lot weirder than Kurt expected, weirder that Quinn had let on. He had a bottle of tequila with him, and he looked somewhat manic. He took a long swig from the bottle and smacked his lips.
"You want some?" he asked, offering it to Kurt. Kurt ignored him.
"Nope?" Puck nudged Kurt's shoulder with the tip of the bottle. Quinn watched apprehensively, as he gave up and sat back, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter.
"Hey, Kurt," he said, meeting Kurt's eyes in the rearview mirror, "d'you ever read any books by Louis L'Amour?"
Kurt didn't respond.
"Hmm? No? Well, okay... Louis L'Amour was a foreigner, and he loved all things cowboy. Just like me, the Puckasaurus."
Kurt noticed Quinn staring at him intensely in the mirror.
"... would write stories about rustlers. Rustlers, who were really bad guys..."
Kurt realized that he wasn't looking at the real Quinn in the mirror, but at an illusion, and she could speak to him without Puck seeing or hearing her. The Quinn in the mirror leaned forward.
"The belladonna is in my bag."
"... they would try to steal the cattle..."
Kurt smiled as mirror-Quinn nodded reassuringly. The bag was in the front seat, next to Kurt. He moved his hand toward it and rummaged through the contents, careful so that Puck wouldn't notice, and finally fished out a little bottle.
"... but before they could sell them, they would try to take away the brand of the owner," Puck continued, oblivious. He leaned forward against the backrest of the passenger seat, playing with his lighter, holding the flame to a skull ring he was wearing, "with an acid, or by-" He suddenly rubbed his knuckles against the vinyl seat quickly, startling both Kurt and Quinn. "-scrubbing."
Tensely, Kurt looked back to the road, but glanced uneasily at Puck, who was still holding the flame to his ring.
"Unfortunately, they could never get rid of it. So they would be caught and get hanged or-"
"What are you doing?" Kurt asked.
"Come on," Puck said in reply, leaning back again, and grabbing Quinn's leg to prop it on his lap. Suddenly they both realized what Puck was about to do.
"Please, no..." Quinn begged weakly. "Shit..."
"You can't hide the brand," Puck was saying, holding on fiercely while Quinn started struggling again and hitting him.
"HEY! HEY! STOP!" Kurt exclaimed, eyes helplessly on the road again. He reached an arm back and tried to hit Puck too. The car started to zig zag.
"It's just you and me!" Puck shouted, trying to press the hot skull to Quinn's ankle, with her squirming. Kurt let go of the steering wheel and turned in his seat, and was hitting Puck pretty hard. The car was swerving violently.
"STOP! STOP IT! SHUT UP!"
"Watcht the road! WATCH THE ROAD!" Puck yelled, trying to fend off Kurt's blows. He let go of Quinn's leg.
"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!" Kurt shouted, turning back to drive properly. "Rustlers and branding! Louis L'Amour, who, by the way, is NOT a foreigner. He's from North Dakota, you asshole!"
"Just watch the freaking road!"
"You're freaking me out, you cowboy freak!" Kurt continued to shout, and he reached back again and tugged the bottle of tequila out of Puck's hand. "Just- give me the bottle! Give me the bottle before I plow you into a truck just to get you to shut up!"
"Calm down, calm down..." Puck said. Exasperated, Kurt took a sip of tequila, hoping it would take some of the edge off. It didn't; it just burn all the way down his throat. He put the bottle between his legs and waited for Puck to get distracted again.
"Whew!" Puck exclaimed, laughing with relief, like nothing major had happened. He sat back and pulled Quinn close to him.
"You know... I'm feeling very into siblings right now," he said stupidly. Quinn half-sobbed, half-laughed nervously and looked at Kurt.
"Yee-haw..." Puck smirked at Kurt in the mirror.
As he successfully poured some of the belladonna into the bottle, Kurt smiled back.
"-the things that you might have done! Only the good die young!"
Puck sang loudly and off-key as he stood on the side of the road, relieving himself. With his free hand, he toyed with the car keys, twirling them around one finger. Kurt and Quinn waited in the car.
"He should've passed out by now," Quinn whispered. "You didn't give him enough."
"I gave him plenty," Kurt retorted, watching Puck nervously in the side mirror.
"That's what I said!"
Puck walked slowly back toward the car, and Quinn recoiled.
"What is he going to do?" she whispered, her voice trembling. Kurt held his breath.
"Just stay calm..."
Puck opened the door and crawled in, a strange expression on his face.
"They say there's a heaven for those who will wait, some say it's better but I say it ain't," he continued singing quietly. "I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints, the sinners are much more fun..."
Quinn was crying again, terrified. "Puck, please, baby..." she whimpered, stroking his cheek affectionately. "Please, come on... Come on baby, I love you."
"I'm so sorry, my love," Puck said, reaching up with his hands.
"I want to be with you forever, you know that. I love you-" Quinn pleaded, but Puck suddenly went from caressing her face to wrapping his hands around her neck. She gagged.
"I don't believe you!" Puck shouted, as he continued to strangle her. Kurt panicked.
"HEY HEY HEY!" he shouted in horror, quickly jumping over the backrest of the seat, and climbing on Puck's back.
Quinn was flattened and pinned to the seat with Puck's hands wringing her neck, and Kurt was tugging and punching and hitting Puck wherever he could, as hard as he could. There was a confusion of sounds and screams and strained voices.
Suddenly Puck went limp, his hands falling from Quinn's neck, and she pulled in a gasping breath. Kurt was still hitting Puck incessantly.
"Kurt! Kurt! KURT! Kurt, stop!" Quinn was trying to say, because it was still hard to talk when there were two men on top of her. "Stop! He's out. He's passed out..."
Kurt stopped, breathing hard. He saw for himself that, indeed, Puck had stopped moving, and he started pulling him off of Quinn.
"Oh my god!" Quinn exclaimed.
Puck's eyes were wide open, lifeless, and he wasn't breathing.
Now Quinn was on top of Puck's limp body, attempting mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, while Kurt watched from the front seat, huffing in exasperation.
"How much did you give him, Kurt?"
"I don't know, Quinn! I wasn't using a measuring cup! He was trying to kill you!"
Quinn tried to breathe one last time into Puck's mouth, with no result. "Come on..." she said, sitting back on her heels. She ran a hand through her hair nervously.
The moon was still red. The circle around it was a vivid red, too.
"Please, God, please..." Quinn murmured, pacing in front of the car and looking up at the sky. "If you get us out of this, I'll be good. I'll clean up my act. I'll have babies, I'll go to their PTA meetings-"
"I have babies, Quinn," Kurt interrupted angrily. "I had normal. And I worked really, really hard to get that normal. But from this moment on-"
"Kurt, Kurt, it's all my fault, Kurt!"
"-I will never have normal again!"
"I didn't mean to ruin your life. I just... I just had no one else to turn to."
Kurt breathed hard and heavy and angry. He wanted to be angry at Quinn, but he couldn't. Even if he had just flown out to rescue her from an abusive boyfriend and ended up with said boyfriend's dead body in the backseat of said boyfriend's car, and this was not at all how it was supposed to turn out.
"Urgh... get in the car," he said, walking to the driver's side. "Get in the car," he repeated severely, and Quinn obeyed without a word.
They were on the road again.
"We have to go to the police. It was self-defense," Kurt said.
Quinn looked at him skeptically. "The odd slowly-poison-him-to-death self-defense? Come on, Kurt, they're never going to believe us," she grumbled, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.
"You really should stop smoking so much."
"Why? I'll probably get life. I should smoke two at once. It'll shorten the sentence."
Kurt felt something cold wrapping around his head at her words, like it was all really sinking in.
"I really don't want to lose my children," he muttered, his voice cracking.
Quinn blew the smoke out the window and sighed.
"I know. I don't want you to either."
Kurt was running a hand through his hair nervously. He suddenly noticed that Quinn seemed very pensive and oddly calm; she glanced a few times at the body, and then at Kurt when she didn't think he see her.
"What- what're- what- what are you thinking?" he asked.
Quinn bit her lip and thought for a moment before she spoke up.
"When Sam died, you went to the aunts and you asked them to bring him back, right?"
Kurt tried to ignore the sting he always felt when remembering his husband, but he shook his head.
"Yeah, but they wouldn't."
"Wouldn't, but not couldn't."
Kurt shook his head again.
"Yeah, but they were right. They wouldn't because he'd come back as something dark and unnatural."
Quinn made a derisive noise. "Puck already is dark and unnatural! I don't care what he comes back as, as long as he comes back with a pulse-"
"No, no, NO, that is not an option, Quinn! That is not a choice!"
"We don't have a choice, Kurt! This is our choice!"
Quinn looked pointedly at him, and Kurt knew that she was right.
It was very late when they finally made it home. The drive was long, and they hardly spoke.
When they got there, Kurt was suddenly glad for his family's reputation. No one was ever seen snooping around the old Victorian property, for fear of seeing something utterly supernatural going on in the Owens household.
They wouldn't have been wrong this time.
"You... owe me... big-time!" Kurt grunted as they dragged Puck's body over the moonlit lawn. Even if Puck was about Kurt's height, he was a lot burlier; not to mention dead. This was no piece of cake.
"He's gonna be so pissed," Quinn mumbled, as they made it into the kitchen. Lord Tubbington sat on the staircase, judging them. He hissed when they dragged the body in.
They cleared the kitchen table and then lifted him onto it, with great difficulty.
"Watch his balls," Quinn hissed.
"You watch them!"
They propped him onto it haphazardly, both panting and huffing exhaustedly.
"Spell book," Kurt said, walking off to get it from the cupboard.
He also found tools, lots of shiny tools: daggers of all sizes, huge needles, scalpels, etc. Tools he had never used, and never would've wished to use. But according to the spell they were summoning, these were a necessity. He walked around the cupboard, fetching ingredients, while outside, Quinn worked on cutting open Puck's shirt.
"Okay, Puck," she started in a low voice, "I'll get you out of this. But when I do, we're definitively breaking up. It is over." She looked down at him angrily and slapped him in the face.
Kurt was staring at her weirdly from the doorway. "What are you doing?"
"Nothing," Quinn replied nonchalantly. Kurt rolled his eyes and carried the book of spells over to the the kitchen table.
"Honey, are you sure you want to do this?" he asked one last time.
Quinn looked hesitant for a moment. But she looked at Puck and nodded. "Absolutely."
They lit candles and burned herbs. They read over the instructions. They moved their hands in circular motions over Puck's exposed chest. Kurt looked completely focused; Quinn just seemed impatient.
"Lips pursed, emit wind over tongue in motion, teeth on edge..." Kurt read aloud. "Touch bounded smugde of blue sage with braided wheat straw... Insert needles through eyes of corpse..."
"Through the eye?" Quinn asked, horrified.
"In the eye," Kurt confirmed.
They tentatively picked up the needles, and each lifted one of Puck's eyelids.
His eyeballs were milky white.
Kurt yelped and jumped back, squirming and quacking disgust.
"No way!" Quinn shouted, shaking her head hard. "Nuh-uh, no! I think we should wait for the aunts."
Kurt was frantically washing his hands in the sink, scrubbing over and over.
"It's not like he's gonna stay fresh, Quinn," Kurt hissed, drying his hands vigorously. "It's now or never."
Quinn made a face and breathed to calm herself.
"Okay," Kurt took a deep breath. "I need for you to get me something white to write on top of the star."
Quinn scanned the whole kitchen quickly, and came back with a can of whipped cream.
"This is all I could find."
"This is actually brilliant. This is good," Kurt shook the can and drew a big white star on Puck's chest with the whipped cream. "Now, we're supposed to say: Black as night, erase death from our sight, white as light, Mighty Hectate, make it right."
"Mighty Hec... tate," Quinn read slowly over the paragraph.
They repeated it to themselves a couple of times, then looked at each other, faces like stone, ready to chant together.
"Black as night, erase death from our sight. White as light, Mighty Hectate, make it right."
"Black as night...
"Erase death from our sight..."
"White as light..."
"Mighty Hectate, make it right..."
"Black as night...
"Erase death from our sight..."
"White as light..."
"Mighty Hectate, make it right..."
Suddenly, in the middle of their incessant whispered chanting, Puck's eyes flew open.
Quinn looked down and gasped, dropping her needle. They fell silent and backed away a little. Puck's eyes weren't milky anymore, but a faded shade of their real color, and very bloodshot.
Kurt and Quinn exchanged glances of surprise, like they couldn't really believe it had worked. Quinn looked rather relieved, but Kurt felt a little sick.
Puck blinked and stared blankly up at the ceiling.
"Puck...?" Quinn said tentatively. Puck looked at her directly and suddenly jumped off the table and lunged at Quinn, hands wrapping around her neck. She gasped and gagged and stumbled, while Puck strangled her and shouted.
"I want you to be my wife! Can you promise me that? I WANT YOU TO BE MY WIFE!"
Without thinking, Kurt grabbed the nearest thing he could find -a cast iron pan-, and dashed it at Puck's head several times, with all his strength, until Puck crumpled to the floor, dead. Again.
It had started raining.
Under the downpour, Kurt and Quinn Owens dug a hole in the garden. They grunted and groaned as they shoveled damp dirt over and over again. They worked frantically, ignoring pain and exhaustion. Puck's dead body lay next to them, face down.
Once they dug deep enough, they threw their spades aside, and together they started pushing the body toward the hole.
"You have... the worst taste in... men!" Kurt said, as they did one final push and threw him down unceremoniously.
They put the dirt back, and the grass, and then flattened it with their feet, until it was hard enough to tell that there had once been a hole there. At least it stopped raining by then.
"Kurt?"
"Yeah?"
"I know this sounds really stupid and everything right now, but I just... I just really wanted to say... thank you."
Kurt stopped flattening and looked at his sister's muddied face and damp hair, and didn't know what to say. Quinn smiled and pulled him into a tight hug, and Kurt returned the embrace, suddenly realizing how much he needed that right now.
"Thanks for being my brother," Quinn whispered.
"It's all right," Kurt replied dumbly. "Let's just put this all behind us now."
They were both trembling, cold and wearied.
"What are we going to tell the aunts?"
Kurt thought for a moment, considering the consequences.
"Nothing," he said without hesitation. Quinn nodded, looking at Kurt's determined face.
They glanced once at the hidden grave, picked up their spades and headed inside.
The next morning, they went into town early. Quinn wanted to cut her hair and dye it blonde again. She wanted to be presentable for when she met her niece and nephew for the first time. She wished she could do something about the big ugly bruise on the side of her face.
"What if they don't like me?" she asked nervously, as they saw a cab pull up to the house, and two very excited children come out of it, followed by Brittany and Santana.
Kurt met her at the bottom of the stairs and waved a hand dismissively as the front door burst open. Elizabeth and Kyle ran in and into their father's arms, shouting excitedly. Elizabeth had a wreath of small flowers on her head, while little Kyle seemed to have war paint on his face.
"Dad! Dad! You won't believe it!"
"We got to dance naked under the full moon!"
"It was so much fun!"
"You did?" Kurt asked, making a face.
"We did!"
"It was so cool!"
They suddenly stopped their jabbering and caught sight of Quinn. Their eyes widened.
"OH MY GOD! AUNT QUINN IS HOME!
"AUNT QUINN!"
They bounced toward her, and Quinn was a little shocked at their enthusiasm. Kurt laughed behind his hand, as Quinn let herself be hugged and kissed by them, and she started laughing too. It struck Kurt then, how much Elizabeth looked like Quinn; they even had the same spirit.
"You guys are so big! I can't believe this!" Quinn exclaimed. She fell silent when aunt Brittany and aunt Santana walked in. They smiled like everything was okay.
"Hi, auntie Tannie, aunt Britt," Quinn said, smiling hugely. "You guys haven't changed one bit."
"Hello, darling," Santana greeted her, pulling her into a hug, and kissing her cheek. "Oh dear," she said, noticing the bruise. "Oh well, a little mugwort will fix that right up." She winked. "Kyle, why don't you and I go to the greenhouse?" Kyle grinned and followed her.
"I'm so happy to see you!" Brittany exclaimed, hugging Quinn now. She pulled back and looked grimly at the bruise too. "Don't worry, sweetie. Whoever he was, he'll get what he deserves."
Quinn smiled and looked meaningfully at Kurt, who looked stony.
"I think what you really need right now is a brownie for breakfast," Brittany continued, leading Quinn toward the kitchen. Quinn laughed.
"A brownie? You still do that?"
"Of course we still do that? What do you mean? You've been away too long."
"Wow, some things never change, do they?"
"Except your hair. I love this look on you!"
Kurt shook his head and followed them into the kitchen. Elizabeth stayed behind, looking out the window at something in the garden.
The next day was Monday, and Quinn offered to help out in the shop, at least until she could find another job. Kurt had no choice but to agree, even though he didn't need any help in the shop. But he felt like he needed to keep an eye on Quinn.
As he, Tina and Lauren went about their duties prior to opening, Quinn spent most of the morning trying on products.
"Oh, Kurt, I love this stuff," she mumbled with the tip of a cigarette between her lips, rubbing moisturizing almond and coconut oil on her arms. "It's great! You've done a great job."
Tina and Lauren exchanged looks. Kurt barely glanced up from where he was busy doing inventory.
"Quinn, if you're gonna work here, maybe you could... I don't know... work?" he said.
"I am. I'm testing the merchandise," she answered, with a shrug.
Lauren and Tina chuckled quietly. Kurt rolled his eyes and got up, grabbing his coat.
"You guys know where you can reach me. I'll be right back... if anyone cares," he said, muttering the last part, and practically slamming the door behind him. Quinn winced.
"Did I do something wrong?"
Lauren made a face. "Phone tree day," she said.
"Phone tree day," Tina repeated in a sort of sing-songy sigh.
"The parents' hotline. If there's an emergency, like a snow day, they decide who's the most responsible-"
"You mean the most popular-"
"-Responsible parent to sound the alarm. Each parent calls the next one down on the list. It's this big deal to get chosen."
"But Kurt never gets picked, cuz everybody knows he's a-," Tina cut herself off when Lauren narrowed her eyes at her, "-different," she finished politely.
Quinn took another drag of her cigarette as she pondered over this.
She didn't exactly want to go back to McKinley -she dreaded running into any of her old teachers, or worse, coach Sylvester-, but she kind of owed a lot to Kurt right now; the least she could do was be there for him, no matter what.
As soon as she approached the classroom where the meeting was being held, she heard all-too familiar voices from inside, and she peered in through the glass panel on the side of the door.
Kurt was sitting at the very back, like he always did, head bent over the desk, playing with his collarbone and doodling around the margin of a notebook. Everyone around him was chattering loudly and being rather obnoxious. She was surprised by how many faces she still recognized; Finn was there, and Artie was there, and Rory Flannagan, and Sugar Motta, and Jacob Ben Israel, and Dave Karofsky. Plus a few former Cheerios, a couple of football and hockey players, and many other faces she could remember seeing at least on occasion.
And of course, front and center, being her bossy self, was Rachel Berry.
Quinn cringed at the idea of going in. The point of getting away from this town was so that she wouldn't have to run into these people anymore. She had never expected to return. But maybe this didn't have to be so bad.
"Silence, please!" Rachel called out, and everyone grew quiet. "Third name from the top of the phone tree is... Sugar Motta."
"I knew it. I'm awesome," Sugar said, as everyone congratulated her. Quinn made a face, and she saw Kurt making one too.
Quinn took the opportunity to go in, and as soon as she did, all eyes were on her.
"Oh, hey. Sorry to interrupt," she said, trying to sound bashful. She had expected this reaction, and she intended to have some fun with it.
Rachel tried to hide her shock, but she was never good at concealing her facial expressions. She seemed to snap out of it and forced a pleasant smile.
"Quinn... hello."
"Hi, Rachel," Quinn replied, trying not to laugh at her former schoolmate's fluster.
"Uh, can I help you?" Rachel asked.
"Uh, my brother," Quinn said casually, moving through the desks. "Just here to see my brother."
Everyone stared at her in surprise and shock. Finn kept his gaze fixed on Rachel, but all other pairs of eyes followed her.
"Is that a snake tattoo?" Sugar asked Rory, and as always for her, not very subtly.
"It's, um... yeah, it looks like it," Rory replied. He seemed to have become befuddled.
"Yep, that's right! I'm back. I have a few others in other places, you wanna see?" Quinn said suggestively. "I guarantee, it's totally worth it."
Sugar laughed, and Artie and Rory blushed.
Kurt snorted. "Wow, this feels a bit like being naked without my homework," he muttered as Quinn sat in the empty seat next to him.
"Ahem!" Rachel said loudly, to get everyone's attention again. "The second from the top of the phone tree will be Artie Abrams," she announced. There was a round of applause, and Artie smiled sheepishly.
"Psst."
Both Quinn and Kurt turned to the left, to see Jacob making gestures to catch Karofsky's attention.
"I heard she screwed Prof. Schuester," he whispered. Kurt and Quinn glared at him.
"OUCH!"
Jacob clutched his finger in pain, where it had strangely gotten caught in the snap of his binder. Everyone turned in surprise. Quinn and Kurt pretended to look innocent.
"Don't do that," Kurt muttered.
"That wasn't me," Quinn replied, unable to keep a straight face.
"Well, I certainly didn't do it."
"Yeah, it was you."
Kurt started laughing quietly, and Quinn giggled.
Rachel looked annoyed and tried to ignore them. She put on a bright smile.
"Finally, oh, I'm so pleased to report this. The top of the phone tree list is..." Rachel said, and she checked the name and looked momentarily puzzled. "One moment..."
She flipped through to the next page, and the next one, and almost all the pages in the phone tree lists of the rest of the year, and even the past few months, but they all had the same name at the top.
"It's, uh... it's..." she said, scanning for a way out, but she suddenly gave up, very confused. "It's Kurt Owens."
There were confused whispers from the other parents and a few dirty looks. Quinn started clapping.
"WHOO! Go Kurt!" she exclaimed, looking very pleased with herself. She smiled at her brother, who looked just as surprised as everyone else. "Now that was me," she muttered.
"Eye of newt and toe of frog... wool of bat and tongue of dog..." Santana recited, pouring ingredients into a blender.
"Adder's fork and blindworm's sting..." Brittany added, dropping something else in.
"Barbados lime is just the thing..."
"Cragged salt like a sailor's stubble!"
"Flip the switch," Santana said, capping the blender, "and let the cauldron bubble!"
With a flick of their wrists at the appliance, it whirred to life.
"This is gonna be so awesome!"
The noise from the kitchen travelled up the spiral staircase; magically it didn't disturb the sleeping children. However, it was loud enough to wake up Quinn, and she smirked and sauntered into Kurt's bedroom and leapt into his bed. Kurt remained asleep.
"Wakey wakey..." Quinn whispered, tickling the bridge of Kurt's nose, as she usually did. Kurt woke up with a start, and glared at his sister.
"Shh, listen..." she said, before he could protest. Kurt recognized the sound and smiled.
"Is that...?"
"Midnight margaritas!" they said in unison, jumping out of the bed.
They raced downstairs and into the kitchen. Santana was already holding out two glasses with the frosty beverage, and they took their first sips gleefully.
It had been ages since they did this. The aunts had included the two of them in the tradition as soon as they both turned 21, but the tradition was put on hiatus when Quinn left. It just wasn't the same without her.
Kurt wasn't big on alcoholic beverages. But as stereotypical as it may seem, he liked cocktails and anything with an umbrella and a straw. Plus aunt Santana and aunt Brittany made the best margaritas ever.
They put on some music and dance around like idiots for a while, until they had chugged down three margaritas each. Considering how strong they were, it was no time at all before they were giggling uncontrollably. They eventually sat around the table, unable to coordinate making any more fantastic margaritas, so they started drinking the rest of the tequila in shots. Kurt usually wouldn't have done it; he didn't like tequila shots, but something about the four of them being all together again made him forget that.
"Okay, seriously now... all right..." Quinn was saying after her third shot, grabbing Kurt's hand and seemingly pretending to read his palm. "I see a man in your future and... whoa, he's gorgeous..." she said, eliciting appreciative nods from the other three, "and ooooh, ooh la la, he is big!"
They all burst out laughing.
"But you're scared to death," Quinn continued, in hysterics now, "and you wind up like a frigid old hag, with your two frigid old hag aunts!"
Aunt Santana nearly choked on a piece of lime and slammed her shot glass down on the table.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"I don't know where that came from, that was weird," Quinn apologized weakly, still laughing.
"She just made that all up. She's never really been interested in her gifts," aunt Brittany slurred.
"Well, Quinn has her own magic. And we all know what it is..." Santana cackled, looking embarrassed. She was normally poisonous, but even she looked a little shocked at herself.
"Oh please. Since when is being a slut a crime in this family?" Kurt said, and burst out laughing immediately. The others echoed him.
"What would you know about it?" Santana poked. "When we put that spell on Sam, we had to bind it with molasses, just to get you to... Ha! To get you to open your leeeeegs..."
"No, that's terrible!" Kurt exclaimed, not sure if he should be appalled or not.
"Oh, you can't say that the decisions we've made have been bad for you, really," Santana said.
"Sssshh..." Brittany hissed, giggling. Kurt narrowed his eyes.
"Decisions? You mean, there was more than that one when you forced me to fall in love with this dreamy guy, thus dooming him to his death?" he asked bitterly. "What else did you do?"
Santana made an exaggeratedly guilty face, while Brittany hid her face behind her hands, her body shaking with laughter.
"What. Else. Did. You. Do?"
"Well, don't get mad, but..." Santana said, trying to keep a straight face, "Kyle may not be your biological son... buuuuuuut he's more similar to all of us than you think."
Kurt looked from one aunt to the other.
"What do you mean?"
"Don't tell him..." Brittany whispered. Santana shrugged and swallowed another shot of tequila.
"Oh, he's gonna find out anyway. Don't you think he'd be suspicious when Kyle turned out to be just as good at spells as his daddy?"
Kurt was shaking his head. "No, he's not... Sam didn't have anyone in his family-"
"Sam didn't. But miss Surrogate-"
"No, don't..." Brittany said weakly, but Kurt's eyes grew the size of golfballs.
"YOU WHAT?"
Quinn gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. Brittany winced, and Santana smiled, a wedge of lime between her teeth.
"We might have conveniently found the perfect surrogate for you that you would stumble upon casually and think she was perfect too," Santana explained. Brittany poured herself a shot and drank it quickly.
"What? No, we found her! Sam and I interviewed her, and we liked her and she liked us too."
Santana raised an eyebrow and smiled like a smart-ass.
"You picked out my surrogate?" Kurt asked, looking disgusted.
"No, we proposed the option, and you happened to like her as much as we did," Santana replied.
"I can't believe this. You set me up with a surrogate witch, and made my son-"
"One of us!"
"You- NO! This wasn't about making him one of us! This was about doing what you want just because you can!"
"And what we want is what's best for you and for the kids! We love them! We love you!"
"We didn't want him to grow up feeling left out," Brittany added.
"I warned you! When we moved here, I told you that my children would never do magic-"
"Oh please," Santana snorted.
"As if it weren't hard enough to be a boy with two dads, now you made him into a-a-a FREAK!"
"He is NOT a freak!" Santana said, slamming her fist down on the tabletop. "None of us are freaks."
"I know that. But that's still the general consensus in the world," Kurt growled.
Brittany put a hand on his shoulder.
"Kurt, you can't spend your life worrying about what others think or say. And you can't deny who your children are," she said sweetly. "Elizabeth was going to be a witch anyway, so why not have his brother be a wizard too? That way they have each other. Like you and Quinn had each other. Like we'll always be there for you."
There was a silence, as Kurt seemed to ponder over this. Quinn felt bad for him, although she couldn't see really what could be so bad about Kyle being like them. But she admitted that keeping it a secret from him had been kind of low, even for aunt Santana, and it surprised her that aunt Brittany had gone along with it.
"So, this girl, the surrogate... she's not an Owens?" she asked. Kurt suddenly looked very frightened.
"Oh my god, is she? Is she related to us? Did you screw up Elizabeth's DNA? I will kill you!"
Santana slammed the shot glass on the table and looked appalled.
"No! Are you crazy? We're not stupid! Well..." she pretended not to glance at Brittany, and Brittany smacked her with a slice of lime. "Ow! Geez, the Owenses are not the only magical family, you know? There are plenty more witches out there, good ones. Where do you think I came from?"
Kurt snorted derisively and frowned at them.
"We're not the only family dealing with similar issues, you know?" Santana added. "Hasn't that ever occurred to you?"
Quinn bit her lip and watched her brother. She could tell that this was a real blow for him.
"At least Kyle will probably still avoid the curse. That's an Owens exclusive," Brittany said, voicing the answer to what everyone was thinking.
"Gee, that makes me feel so much better," Kurt grumbled.
"Here's something that will make you feel better," Quinn said, pouring him yet another shot. Kurt stared at it for a moment, and then grudgingly took it.
"Screw you. I hate you all," he said, pouring the liquid down his throat. Quinn looked hurt.
"'All'? What did I do?"
Kurt didn't respond, just gave her a fleeting meaningful glance, and Quinn didn't press it.
"Feeling better, pumpkin?" aunt Santana asked, as Kurt sucked on a lime.
"No thanks to you, you bitch!" he shouted, and burst out laughing. Santana laughed too, and Quinn and aunt Brittany looked a little relieved that the tension was dissipating.
There was another round of alcohol-elicited honesty, in which Santana and Brittany fought and made up in less than five minutes, Kurt inadvertedly revealed something very intimate about his sex life with Sam, and Quinn owned up to her reputation a little too proudly. Then aunt Santana called her a slut again, and a round of name-calling ensued.
"YOU SELF-CENTERED SHREW!"
"INGRATE!"
"GOODY TWO-SHOES!"
"WITCH!"
They were practically falling out of their chairs by now, laughing so hard they couldn't even breathe.
Tequila had really brought out the worst in them, Kurt thought as they quieted down. He briefly wondered if the aunts would've even told him all of this, had they not been completely drunk. But then again, he would've found out anyway, and soon.
As he remembered his children, sleeping peacefully upstairs, Kurt thought it was about time they went to bed, before something terrible was revealed by accident.
And besides, they should've been running out of tequila, limes and salt by now.
But he realized, when he looked at the bottle, it looked about the same as an hour ago, even when they had been drinking non-stop. In fact, as Brittany poured two more shots, and set down the bottle, it seemed to Kurt that the level of the liquid in it stayed the same. He stared at it for a long time. The bottle looked oddly familiar.
As if on cue, Santana and Brittany started drunkenly singing a very familiar song.
"I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints, the sinners are much more fun... Ya know that only the good die young..."
Kurt felt a cold shiver suddenly. He picked up the bottle and felt a cold shiver.
"Where did you get this bottle?" he asked.
"Ho ho ho baby, I tell ya, only the good die young!"
"Where did you get this bottle?" Kurt repeated, louder now.
Aunt Santana and Aunt Brittany giggled. "Someone left it on the porch! Yeaaah, baby!"
Kurt and Quinn exchanged terrified glances, while Santana and Brittany sang on obliviously.
Like a spring, Quinn leapt to her feet and grabbed the bottle, and dashed it at the sink. It smashed at the bottom, sprinkling tiny glass shards and tequila around.
Santana and Brittany snapped out of it and got up.
"What's going on here?" Brittany asked. She stared at Quinn. "What's going on with you?"
When Quinn didn't respond, Santana stood beside her nephew. "Kurt, what's going on in this house?"
"Something's going on, I can smell it," Brittany said.
"Yes, it's a very distinct smell, it's the smell of bullshit."
"It could be catshit too. Lord Tubbington made a mess in his litter box. But you're probably right."
Quinn watched Kurt, pleading, while their aunts looked sternly at him. He avoided their eyes.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said.
Suddenly, in the corner of the kitchen, the broom that had been resting against the wall, fell to the floor, the wooden handle smacking loudly on the stone. Kurt jumped from his chair, and Quinn squeaked.
Brittany and Santana exchanged looks.
"Broom fell," Brittany said.
"Company's coming," Santana added.
Kurt wasn't sure if it was the fear, or the tequila, but there was a sudden loud buzzing in his ears. It might have been the rushing of his blood, because his heart was pumping faster than ever. He swallowed hard.
"We had a problem, and we handled it," he said simply.
"We deserve an explanation," Santana demanded.
Again, Kurt didn't look at anyone, while Quinn looked a bit like she was about to faint.
After a long pause, Santana huffed and shook her head.
"Right. Come on, Britt, let's go," she said, putting an arm around Brittany, and they headed upstairs without another word.
As soon as they were gone, Kurt was glaring at Quinn.
"No," Quinn said, answering his unspoken question. She shook her head slowly. "No. No, it's just not posible. Don't even think it."
"Tell me how did that get here, then? Tell me how did this bottle get here, Quinn?" Kurt hissed angrily, pointing at the sink. He thought his heart would burst from his ribcage.
"It's not possible," Quinn replied, as if that settled the matter.
Still glaring at her, he started cleaning up the mess on the table. Feeling guilty, Quinn grabbed some paper towels and made sure to pick up all the glass shards in the sink and its surroundings.
"Leaving like this seems a bit harsh," Brittany whispered. It was even later now, and Quinn and Kurt had both finally gone to bed too. The aunts took the oportunity to pack up and head downstairs.
"It's a harsh lesson, but one they must learn on their own," Santana said, setting their suitcases by the door.
"What about the kids?"
"No worries, Britt. A good piece of Maria's hanging rope will protect them," Santana replied, opening the secret compartment -a loose floorboard in the main staircase-. From a box where they kept some of their personal charms, she fished out a piece of old brown rope and broke off some strands, and they both went upstairs to the children's bedroom.
"You have to promise us you won't take them off," Santana explained to two very sleepy children, as she and Brittany tied the strands of rope around each of their necks. "Not until we come home."
"We will only be gone a short while," Brittany added.
"Do you hear us?"
The kids nodded.
"Promise?"
"Yeah..." Elizabeth said, yawning. Kyle nodded, struggling to keep his eyes open.
"Love you."
"Love you too."
The aunts kissed both of them, and with heavy hearts, left the room, and the house, hoping with all their might that everything would be all right when they came back.
Too much going on. Maybe I should've split this into two chapters. Hmmm, too late now...
To clear up a few things: in case it wasn't too obvious, their times at McKinley is supposed to have been a lot different from the series. Just picture there was no Glee club. Ergo, none of them were really close. Or at least Kurt and Quinn would not have been very close with anyone from the series, because they were ostracized for being "freaks". Still, I think Rachel would still be very much like herself (bossy), but she wouldn't have the dreams of grandeur and stardom as in the series.
I'm sorry if the whole midnight margaritas scene was too long. It's just that, after watching the film so many times in my life, it started to down on me that the tequila bottle was a lot more than just something that appeared in the porch by magic; I realized that its point was a lot darker than manifest to Sally and Gillian that Jimmy was still around, haunting them. Since it seemed to make them a lot more honest than alcohol usually does, I think Jimmy was trying to get Sally and Gillian to confess to his murder. So I thought, since they would all be suffering from verbal diarrhea, it would be a likely moment for Santana and Brittany to confess to something as big as tampering with Kurt and Sam's surrogate mother options (especially since they also confessed to including something in the spell so that Kurt would sleep with Sam). It just seems like something Santana would do. Makes sense, doesn't it?
Oh, it doesn't? I'm sorry... Oh well, what's done is done.
Thank you for reading. Please review.
-Valentina