"Ah, ha!"
No one was surprised when Tina had an 'Ah, Ha!' moment anymore. Tina's existence was comprised of 'Ah, Ha!' moments. Mike thought it would be very retro and trend-setting of her to bring back 'Eureka!' but that hadn't happened. Still, as regular an occurrence as it was, when Tina had an 'Ah, Ha!' moment, people stopped and listened. Maybe not the rest of the general population, but the scoobies, for sure. Gathered over books and files and web page backstage of the auditorium, the scoobies were just waiting now for Tina to have her moment.
"What do we got?" Buffy lept up and gave her attention to Tina.
"It's not Egyptian, it's Etruscan, mistaken because of the design pattern," said Tina, holding out a time-colored book with a drawing of the Mark of Eyghon inside, "But any fool can see it predates their iconology. Look, the Mark of Eyghon, worn by his initiates. 'Eyghon, also called the sleepwalker, can only exist in this reality by possessing an unconscious host. The temporary possession imbues the host with a euphoric feeling of power'."
Buffy narrowed her eyes at the book. "Yeah, but what about not temporary?" she asked.
"'Unless the proper rituals are observed, the possession is permanent and Eyghon will be born from within the host'," Tina read aloud.
"I'm guessing, ew," Rachel wrinkled her nose.
"Hey, listen," said Tina, eyes glued to her book, "'Once called, Eyghon can also take possession of the dead, but it's demonic energy soon disintegrates the host and it must jump to the nearest dead or unconscious person to continue living'."
Buffy sighed impatiently. "I still don't get what this has to do with Will."
"I don't know about Mr. Schuester, but ancient sects used to induce possessions for ancient bacchanals and orgies."
"Okay," groaned Mike, closing a book with disgust, "Mr. Schuester and orgies in the same sentence. I could have lived without that one."
"Wait a minute," said Buffy, "The dead guy's all puddly now."
"So the demon's gone," said Rachel, "There was no one dead to jump into! I mean, we're all... not dead."
"No," Buffy frowned, "No one dead. But someone unconscious."
"What?" Sam furrowed his brow, "You mean Ms. Pillsbury? She fainted for, like, two seconds, 'cause she was afraid of that gooey guy. It's a germ thing."
"Maybe two seconds was enough."
…
Will rarely used his kitchen appliances, other than his microwave, but tonight he decided to impress Emma with a home cooked meal. After all, she should be frail and shaken after their run in with his not-so-dead and not-so-living old acquaintance. He knew that he was. He shook just a little as he heard a noise in the living room; a quick and loud sort of snap.
"What was that?" he asked, poking his head around the arched entrance.
"What was what?" Emma asked, blinking innocently at him as she stood over his desk.
"I thought I heard something," he said, furrowing his brow.
"I didn't," Emma shrugged in her Kate Spade cardigan.
"Here," he smiled tentatively as he brought two plates of spaghetti into the living room and set them down on the coffee table, "It's one of the very few things I know how to make."
"It looks good," Emma smiled as they sat down together.
He had surprised her with how relaxed she'd seemed, especially considering what she'd just witnessed, but perhaps she adapted quickly to strange situations. Maybe the strange, supernatural life that Will had wasn't alarming to her anymore. He found that hard to swallow, though. She hadn't even bugged him in the kitchen to wash his hands and use fresh ingredients. She'd lounged in the living room, being just a little too quiet.
"I'll drive you home whenever you're finished," he said.
"You could take me home," said Emma, twirling a fork through her silky spaghetti, "Or you could take advantage of me in my weakened state."
Will blinked, surprised. If this was adapting, she was doing it well.
"Emma... I-I mean, I'm really, a-attracted... to you," Will stammered, "But now really isn't the right time."
Emma smiled knowingly. "There's never been a better time," she said, and leaned forward into Will, splaying her thin fingers against his chest and pushing him back, locking their lips.
Will pushed away her surprisingly forceful arms. "This isn't right, Emma. I'd be taking advantage."
Emma rolled her eyes with more contempt than Will had ever seen in her.
"You don't change, do you, Will?" she frowned.
"What?"
"It's not right. It wouldn't be proper. People might get hurt. You're like a girl. Billy the kid. You cry at every funeral. You never had the strength for me."
Will blinked at Emma, bewildered as her voice became more distorted and unhuman.
"You don't deserve me. But guess what? You've got me. Under your skin."
She lunged forward and gripped Will's neck with thin, iron fists. She kissed him once - hard and affectionless - and when she pulled back, her face had changed from delicate and beautiful to a strange, warped demonic version of herself, with holes in her skin and cat-like eyes.
"Was it good for you?" she teased in her distorted voice before she grabbed Will's head and slammed it into the surface of his coffee table, "You never had the stomach. But that's okay. Cause I'm about to rip it out."
Emma threw Will back onto the ground with extreme force. He tumbled and hit the hardwood, the air winded out of him as his head pulsed and blood roared in his ears. He barely heard the sound of his front door being kicked open. Buffy bounded across the room and kicked Ms. Pillsbury's possessed ass. With a roundhouse kick to the face, Emma fell backwards onto the couch, but she quickly rebounded and glared at Buffy.
"Back off!" Buffy warned, sounding a little desperate and her eyes settled on Will, struggling to breathe on the floor.
Emma laughed to herself. "Three down, two to go. Be seeing you."
Before Buffy could stop her, Emma had ducked out of the window, taking shards of broken glass flying down with her. Will was sitting up and stared at the hole in his window with an internal fire behind his eyes.
"Will, are you okay?" Buffy asked urgently, crouching beside him.
"Emma," he whispered, pained, "Oh God, what have I done?"
"Will, how do we stop this? Talk to me! Will, you're scaring me."
Will sighed and looked at Buffy as if only just noticing her. He looked apologetic.
"I'm sorry," he said, sadness brimming in his eyes.
"Don't be sorry! Be Mr. Schuester! Come on, we fight monsters. This is what we do. They show up, they scare us, I beat 'em and they go away. This isn't any different."
"This is different."
"Because you don't know how to stop it?"
"Because I created it!"
…
Rachel sighed and closed the last of Mr. Schuester's personal records after hours of monotonous research in the choir room. Saving the world was nowhere near as glamorous as it should be.
"Did you find anything?" asked Tina.
"Just meticulous banking," Rachel frowned.
"Hey, I found this," said Sam, taking a photograph out of a pouch of documents. He held up the photograph and the others peered at it, seeing that it was an old picture of Mr. Schuester when he was much younger, with much puffier hair and much worse skin.
"That's Mr. Schuester?" asked Tina, wholly surprised. The kid in the picture was lanky and awkward and too uncomfortable to even pose for a photograph. He shyly looked away, his face red and blotchy. Sure, Mr. Schuester had always been a dork, but he was also known throughout the school halls for being just a tad hunky. He had a swimmer's body and a model's eyes, and clearly ten times the confidence as he did when he was a young adult.
…
"I was twenty," explained Will, sitting on the edge of his couch, "I studied History at the Watcher's Academy. And the occult, of course. I hated it. The constant study. The overwhelming pressure of my... destiny. Not exactly a slayer's birthright, but to me, going into the family business felt just as restraining. I dropped out for a while and fell in with... a pretty bad crowd. Bryan Ryan's crowd. He was their ringleader. Back then, I wanted to be him. We all did. I wanted to be Bryan Ryan, the promising watcher who was gifted in magic and new all the tricks of the trade. Not little Billy Schuester. Impressionable Will. My parents spent their lives as watchers with nothing to show for it but a booze problem and an inferiority complex. I didn't want to be that. It was my number one fear. Even today..." he trailed off, as if he was lost in thought, "Anyways, Bryan's crowd practised magic. Small stuff. Stuff that Quinn Fabray could probably do in her sleep. But Bryan discovered something bigger."
"Eyghon?" asked Buffy, her attention rapt as she sat on Will's couch and listened. She didn't know very much about his past, she realized. And virtually nothing about his family.
"Yes," he finally replied, "One of us would go into a deep sleep and the others would summon him. It was a high to us. It was... extraordinary. But we were idiots."
"You couldn't control it."
"One of us - Randall - he lost control. Eyghon took him whole. We tried to exorcise the demon from Randall... but it killed him. No... we killed him."
Buffy turned away, holding her hand to her head and breathing heavily.
"We thought we were free of the demon after that. Now he's back. And one by one, he will kill us all."
"Three down, two to go," Buffy repeated the words that had come out of Ms. Pillsbury's possessed mouth, "Then it's going after Bryan. I better beat it there."
Buffy stood up with heavy shoulders, reluctant.
"We'd better," Will corrected, standing up and wobbling slightly.
"No, I'd better. Will, you're barely mobile and speed is of the serious essence here."
Will sat back down without much of a fight, his whole body slumping in weak remorse.
"I don't know how to stop it without killing Emma," he said, his voice breaking.
Buffy frowned, unsure of what to say. "I've got the guys working on it. I'll, um, try to contain it until we figure something."
"Buffy... I'm sorry."
Buffy blinked and avoided his watery eyes. "I know."
…
"Bryan?"
Buffy crossed town and walked into the barren, empty building that used to be Bryan Ryan's Halloween costume shop. She'd almost gotten her and her friends killed after being cursed by an enchanted princess gown. She still remembers being Duchess Buffy all too vividly. Sam had been her prince, she thought, almost guilty. But now was no time to think of her would-be high school sweetheart. She had business to attend to.
"Bryan," she called again, sure he was hiding somewhere, "Will told me everything... Look, it's coming for you."
She gasped a little as he stepped out of the shadows. "And you came to protect me?" he smirked, "I'm touched."
"Don't worry, it's nothing personal. To protect Will, I have to protect you," she folded her arms.
"How does Billy the Kid inspire such goodness?" Bryan asked himself.
Buffy shrugged. "Cause he's Will."
"And I'm not. Still... lucky me."
"Mm. Lucky you."
Bryan rolled up his sleeve, showing off a black tattoo on his bicep. The Mark of Eyghon.
"Well, we can't run," he said, "Eyghon will find us. This tattoo is like a tracking device."
"It's okay. I'm not much into running."
"Aren't we manly?"
"One of us needs to be. You're gonna hide til its over."
"Excellent plan! Not only is Eyghon on my ass, but Terri Delmonico won't let go of the bone, if you know what I mean?"
Buffy wrinkled her nose. "I'm actually really glad I don't. Is there a door through the back of the shop?"
"Yeah, it's locked. I think it's solid."
"We'll set up there. Let's go."
Bryan waved a hand towards the back of the shop. "Ladies first."
Buffy walked forward too soon and was somehow not surprised when she felt the sudden, jolting sting of a bat on the back of her head. She slumped to the floor immediately. The next thing she knew, she heard a voice saying, "Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey," as she lay flat on a cold surface, the back of her head throbbing as she tried to blink the blurriness out of her eyes. She found herself unable to move on some sort of table as watched Bryan approach with a silver tray.
"Okay, I lied," he said, "There is no eggs and bakey, but I still want you awake. You're gonna miss all the fun."
"What fun?" she groaned.
"Your initiation."
"You know what? I'm not real interested in joining your club."
"Too late. I already voted you in," said Bryan, setting little bottles and sachets up on his tray, "You know, I hope you're not taking this personally, Buffy, I actually kind of like you. It's just that I like myself a lot more. If you think of it, karmically, this is actually really big for your soul, you know?"
Buffy felt her arms tied around the table she was lying on, the tough rope in tight knots. She struggled against, breaking fraying strands but making no big change.
"Taking my place with the demon. Giving so that others may live," Bryan continued.
Buffy slumped on the table. "I'm gonna kill you. Will that blow the whole karma thing?"
"You're quite the charmer, Buffy," he said, and picked up a petri dish of something that looked like black paint, "Now, this may sting just a little bit, but don't worry. That'll go in once the searing pain kicks in. You can go ahead and scream if you want."
…
"We need to figure out how to kill this thing and we need to do it fast," said Sam. He hated the fact that he and the others were hunched over books and files and web pages in the school's choir room while Buffy was out doing... Whatever Buffy has to do.
"Hot lava," suggested Mike.
"That's for a heretic," Tina said impatiently as she sifted through websites on her laptop.
"Yeah, okay," said Mike, looking further down a textbook, "Ooh, bury a potato... No, that's for warts. Who writes this stuff?"
"Oh, there's this," said Rachel, holding up a book on the occult, "To kill a demon... cut off its head."
"Right," said Sam, "We'll find Ms. Pillsbury and then we'll decapitate her. She'll be the first school guidance counselor without a head. Do you think anybody will notice?"
Rachel frowned. "I was just trying to help."
"Yeah, well, you're not," said Sam, frustrated, "You're all just bouncing off these useless theories and ideas when Buffy's out there, probably putting her life on the line."
"Hey, at least we're doing something," said Mike.
"Yeah!" said Rachel, pointing at Mike to indicate her vehement agreement, "What are you doing Sam? Nothing but sitting and moping and being frustrated that Buffy won't be your girlfriend!"
Sam got red in the face. "This is not about that, a- and she never said no!"
"She never said yes, either," Rachel rolled her eyes.
"Hey!" Tina yelled, surprising even herself, "We don't have time for this! Our friends are in trouble. Now we have to put our heads together and get them out of it, and if you guys aren't with me a hundred and ten percent, then get the Hell out of my library!"
Rachel and Sam folded their arms sheepishly.
"Sorry, Tina," Sam said earnestly.
"We'll be good," Rachel nodded like a toddler.
Tina sighed and smoothed down her dress. "Okay... Now, we've done the research. We just have to figure out how to use it."
"What if we find another dead body for the demon to jump into?" asked Mike.
"Right," Rachel nodded, "At the cemetery."
"Well, that won't kill the demon, it'll only change the scenery... Oh. Oh, I've got it! Ah ha!"
…
"I think I missed my calling as an artist," said Bryan, wiping black paint off of his hands with a washcloth.
Buffy sat limply on the table in the back of Bryan's abandoned costume shop, the Mark of Eyghon painted on the back of her neck and surrounded by sore, pink skin.
"Bryan, listen to me," she said, starting to sound desperate, "This is a bad idea. You're dealing with something very dangerous."
"Ah, but I will get Eyghon off my scent," he said, and picked up a large clear bottle that was half filled with yellow liquid, "Relax," he said as Buffy struggled against the table, "This is for me."
To Buffy's horror, he spilled drops upon drops of the acidic yellow fluid onto his bicep and over the Mark of Eyghon. He winced and gave traitorous whimpers of pain as he poured it onto himself. It fizzled on his skin and made an audible bubbling noise as he clenched his jaw. He set the bottle down and winced as he wrapped a bandage around his bicep.
"Well," he said, his voice strained and betraying his pain, "I hate to mutilate and run, but-"
Before Bryan could finish, both his and Buffy's eyes snapped to the back door, where they could see a faint glowing green light behind it and the silhouette of... something. As the silhouette drew closer and got smaller against the light, Buffy could tell who it was. She held her breath in her throat as she struggled violently against the ropes that tied her to the table. Bryan didn't notice. He was enthralled by the light and the ominous silhouette. The door opened, and Ms. Pillsbury - what used to be Ms. Pillsbury - walked in. Although her hair and clothes were the same, her face was distorted. Her eyes were beady and black and her mouth was pulled into a snarling, toothy snout. She had a complexion like a toad and her body was bordering on skeletal, with broad shoulders bent back. She had stony horns on her forehead, and she said with a low, inhuman voice, "It's your time."
Buffy shook uncontrollably as she tried to pull the rope apart and Eyghon walked forward, near enough to Bryan to feel his shaky breath. Without warning, Eyghon pushed him out of the way and set her slightly glowing eyes on Buffy. Buffy suddenly and forcefully broke the rope apart and leapt off of the table, as Eyghon lunged for her.
"Eyghon!"
Both Buffy and Eyghon whipped around to Will leaping into the back room of the shop, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.
"Take me," he said, "Buffy, get out of here."
"No!" Buffy yelled and ran forward, but Eyghon pushed her aside with some invisible force.
Eyghon threw Will down to the ground and stood over him, cocking its head with its blank stare.
"I've been waiting a long time to get to do this," it said.
Will looked up at the demon stuck inside of Emma, when the back door burst open once again and a boy - no, a man - bounded in and tore Eyghon off of Will, gripping his hands around its neck. Will rolled over and watched, his jaw dropping. He didn't recognise this man at all. He was tall, with dark, spiked hair and a black blazer draped over his broad shoulders. As the mysterious man strangled Eyghon, Will leapt up, and to his surprise, Tina, Sam, Rachel and Mike came rushing up to the shop.
"He's killing her," Will cried.
"Wait!" said Tina, pulling Will back.
As the man squeezed relentlessly at Eyghon's neck, it suddenly convulsed. Pushed back by some unseen hand, the man slumped against the wall and Eyghon fell to the floor, and it was suddenly Emma again. She gasped, as if coming up for air in a swimming pool, and shivered against the floor boards.
"Emma!" breathed Will, and fell toward her, caressing her hair out of her face.
She didn't acknowledge him, but stared in horror at the mysterious man against the wall who was convulsing uncontrollably. Deadly blue horns appeared on his head and disappeared not a moment later. The demon was thrashing around inside of him, fading away and resurfacing every few seconds as the man seized. Buffy stood by her friends and watched in terror. There was nothing much she could do but watch even though her every instinct wanted her to save this man. Suddenly, it was like something burst behind the man's eyes and he gasped, and fell forward onto the floor. Buffy rushed toward him, as did her friends, and knelt to see if the stranger was okay. He looked up, startled, but seemingly okay. Will was unfazed by the man as all of his attention was on Emma.
"Emma," he said once again, with his arm around her shoulders.
"Will..." she sighed.
"Who are you?"Buffy demanded.
She was surprised to see that the stranger - the handsome stranger - simply chuckled. "Your welcome," he said sarcastically.
"Right... Thank you," Buffy said, scrutinizing his face, "What did you do?"
"I got rid of it," he said cryptically, "If it's okay, I'll be on my way."
"Wait, no way!" Buffy rose her hands, "We have no idea who you are or what you just did or how you even knew where we were? Do you guys know him?"
Tina shook her head, her eyebrows knitted together. She was telling the truth, Buffy noted, although she looked like she had a theory.
"Who are you?" Buffy asked once again.
The stranger shook dust off of his blazer. "Ask Santana," he said, and walked away, right out of the store.
"What the-" Buffy started.
"I think that Bryan guy got away," said Mike, looking around at the shop.
"Darn," Buffy groaned, "I really wanted to hit him until he bled."
"Well, at least it's over," Rachel sighed.
Buffy turned her head to see Will's arms wrapped around Emma as he led her out of the shop.
…
Santana left Willly's demon bar and stepped out into the twilight, reeking of blood martinis and complimentary olives. She felt a little buzzed, but not enough to stop her anxiously over-analyzing things. Earlier that night, the nerd squad had shown up at her doorstep. Girl Asian, Boy Asian, Ken Doll and Streisand.
"Quinn's not here," she greeted them as she swung the front door open, "She's out doing... I don't know what she's doing. She's out."
Quinn hadn't exactly been vocal about the extra curricular activities that kept her so busy these days, but Santana had a theory that she'd gotten herself a new boyfriend.
"We're not looking for Quinn," Mulan had said, "We're looking for you."
Santana frowned. Usually when they sought her out, it was to ask her to help with yet another Hellmouth related debacle, because the day the Nude Erections ever gave her a social call would be the day that Sofia stopped watching telenovelas.
"Where's Buffy and who's trying to kill her?" she asked them.
"It's some sort of demon," Tina urgently, "It possessed Ms. Pillsbury. We need you to come with us... So we can get it to possess you."
Santana blinked at the girl. "Um, what?"
"The demon can only possess a person when they're currently unconscious or dead, and since you're technically dead..."
"Then clearly that means I'm up for sacrifice."
"Tina has a theory that you won't be affected," said Rachel, "She thinks that when the demon possesses you it will be... What was it?"
"Overridden," said Tina, "Was how I put it. Like it'll be canceled out by the demon you've already got in you."
"So now I'm a demon?" Santana raised an eyebrow.
"Please, Santana, we're not trying to offend you," the Ken Doll, who Santana has met, like, once, said forwardly, "We just think you're our best bet. Please. Buffy's in trouble. So is Mr. Schuester and Ms. Pillsbury. We don't know where else to go."
Santana sighed. The kid sure had a way of making a lady feel important. She told them to go ahead and she would meet them there. She slipped on her jacket and told Sofia she'd be going out with some friends, and she was gone. She headed down the dark suburban streets, on her way to Bryan's abandoned costume shop, where the Famous Five said they'd be. She bumped into a familiar face along the way.
"Sorry," she grinned, "I don't have the time tonight to decipher cryptic signals. I have to help save my friends. Or my friend... Or, whatever. The slayer."
"I know," said Angel, his face stony and serious.
"Oh, yeah?"
"The Mark of Eyghon. Remember?"
"Oh, that's what you were talking about? Dude, you need to work on being less vague about stuff that turns out to be this crucial."
"I should have been more specific," he shrugged, "No use crying over spilt milk."
"Or blood."
He nodded slightly. "What are you going to do?"
"The slayer's genius friend has this theory that letting the demon possess me will make it spaz out and die. Something to do with my being... you know... You do know, don't you?"
Angel smirked. "A vampire. I know. Listen... Let me go instead."
Santana raised her eyebrows. "I don't think you get it. It needs to be me. Or someone like me."
Angel grinned wider. "I am. Someone like you."
It took Santana a moment to wrap her head around it. "And by that you mean-"
"Let me take care of it, Santana. We'll talk later."
So with that, Angel disappeared into the shadows once more in that ominous way he does and left her gobsmacked. Of course, where had she gone to waste away the night until she got to see him again? Willy's. Blood martinis, here I come.
She walked back out and wandered around in the frosty night breeze, waiting for Angel to find her. Eventually, he did, stepping out of the shadows in the South Lima Park.
"How did it go?" asked Santana.
"As expected," he said, that slight twinkle of a smirk in his eyes, "The demon is dead."
"And Buffy and her friends-"
"Are fine, as far as I can tell. You might be hearing from her later."
"About what?"
"Naturally, she wanted to know who I was. I told her to ask you."
"How am I supposed to tell her who you are when I don't even know who you are? Although I'm beginning to form a theory."
Angel sighed. "I'd imagine."
"You're a vampire. Aren't you?... Are you?"
Angel nodded, frowning. "I am."
"So... So what is this? Some sort of rogue vampire stalker thing?"
"I'm like you, Santana."
"Yeah, I got that."
"I don't think you do. I'm like you in more than just the fact that I am a vampire."
Santana blinked, feeling stupid for not guessing sooner. "You have a soul."
Angel nodded once. "It's my curse."
"Mine, too," said Santana, "Kind of."
"Let me walk you home," he said, suddenly.
Santana had to smirk. "What, Elvira can't take care of herself now?"
Angel smirked at her joke and they silently began walking side by side, getting nearer and nearer to Lima Heights.
"So what did you think of the slayer?"
Angel was silent for a long moment, thinking about how to put his impression of the slayer into words. The truth was, when he saw her, he'd been overwhelmed, but he didn't know how to say without sounding... well, stupid.
"I was... impressed."
"Oh, yeah? By?"
Angel shook his head, looking for a word, or a sentence. He hadn't seen the slayer fight. He hadn't seen her study. The truth was, Bryan's costume shop wasn't the first place he'd ever seen this slayer, but he wouldn't get into that now.
"Her being."
"Her what?"
"Her essence."
Santana just stared at him as they walked.
"I don't know how to describe it," Angel bristled, "I was surprised. She struck me, somehow."
"She is pretty," Santana shrugged.
"I don't think that's it," Angel shook his head as they walked slowly, illuminated only by moonlight, "It's difficult to articulate."
Santana nodded. "Sounds like me and Brittany," she said thoughtfully.
"Brittany?"
"My friend," said Santana, although the word friend all on it's own didn't sound right when applied to Brittany, "My best friend. My... I love her. Like, I really love her."
"Oh," said Angel, sounding vaguely surprised, "How did you feel when you first saw Brittany?"
Santana looked up, trying to think back to the day she met Brittany. "I don't remember. It was so long ago... Warm? Probably. Safe. It's how I feel everytime I'm with her. Like I'm home."
Angel smiled to himself. "You and Brittany grew up together?"
"Since we were eight years old," Santana smiled to herself, "I miss her. She still lives in Lima, but it's just hard to see her after becoming... you know. The V word."
They stopped talking a moment as they reached Santana's house. Santana looked up at the big two-story masterpiece and wished for a little more time to stay out here and talk to Angel. She hadn't talked so candidly with another person in so long. She felt an inexplicable comfort with him.
"I think I should leave town," he said, avoiding her eyes as he stared at her house.
"What?" Santana exclaimed, "But... For how long?"
"Forever."
"What? You can't," Santana frowned, angry, "Why would you do that? We were just starting to get to know each other. Like, really know each other and not ominously pass each other every now and again. I told you about Brittany, willingly. I hate talking to people about Brittany."
"I don't think it would be a good idea for us to be friends," said Angel, "When I heard there was someone else like me out there I had to meet that person. I thought I would be helping myself and helping you, too. Giving you someone to connect with. A partner. But you don't need me."
"Of course I do," Santana shook her head, "There isn't exactly a 'vampires with souls' support group in my local community centre. You're the only one who can even begin to understand."
"I'm sure that's true, but... It might not be enough. Our experiences with this way of life, Santana, are very different. You have a home with a family inside of it-"
"It's not exactly a family."
"It's more a family than what I have, which is nothing. Santana, you're so young."
Santana scoffed. "I know I'm physically sixteen, but I'm actually seventeen, thank you very much."
Angel smirked derisively. "I'm physically twenty-six," he said, "And actually two hundred and eighty-five years old."
The number took Santana's breath away. "Two..." she began to say, and trailed off, "You just blew my mind."
Angel nodded. "Yes, well-"
"I mean, I knew you had to be older than me, but not that much older! You're like two hundred a-and...and sixty-"
"I'm two hundred and sixty eight years older than you."
"Right. Right, I'm not that good at math," she shook her head, "Well, dios mio, I was not expecting that. That explains why you're so vague and chivalrous."
"I should leave-"
"Wait!" Santana gathered herself and focused, "You can't leave just because you're way, way older than me, okay? I can get used to it."
Angel looked pained. "Santana... The things I've done, you wouldn't believe. The past I left behind me-"
"So I have a past, too. I was a total bitch cheerleader-"
"Santana-"
"I slept with my friend's boyfriend! Well, she's not my friend, but still. I don't even like dudes. I just needed to take my mind off..."
"Santana, people make mistakes. It doesn't compare to what-"
"I killed a boy. The first night, before I got my soul. He's dead. He used to be just some poor misguided little pervert and now he's dead because of me."
Angel looked sympathetic. "I was the scourge of Europe for over a hundred years. It wasn't until 1898 that I got a soul. I did a lot of horrific things, Santana. In fact, I was known for it. I was more evil than you could ever imagine. Nothing you can say about yourself could ever compare..."
Santana frowned, feeling desperate as Angel looked like he was about to get choked up. "So think of this as your repentance," she smiled hopefully, "To make up for your major scourging, take in a troubled teen. Like a Big Brother program. Or like a Great Great Great Great Grandfather program."
Angel let out a reluctant chuckle. "Well... We were just getting to know each other."
Santana nodded. "Yeah, we were."