a/n: Some of you might notice that in this chapter, I'm borrowing a storyline from the first season of Misfits. Don't worry, you don't have to ever have seen Misfits in order to understand this chapter. I hope you enjoy whether you are Misfits fans or otherwise. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!

Kurt felt the harshness of the sunlight on his pale skin, flooding in from half-opened curtain. He had to blink a few times before he recognized that he was in his Lima bedroom, and not his dorm room back at Dalton academy. He had crashed there last night after the slaying of the Bezoar demon. He already felt the guilt and frustrated anger bubbling up from last night. Guilt, because he had been angry when Blaine told him the truth about his mother and Kurt had abandoned him in Lima. Surely, Blaine had gotten a ride home with one of the McKinley alum, or at the very least got his dad to pick him up, but it didn't quell Kurt's guilty conscience.

Kurt had barely slept last night, his mind riddled with questions about his mother's past. How could his father have kept this from him all this time? How could his mother continue a life as a slayer when she had a child? Was her destiny a burden? Was Kurt a burden?

Rushing to find some sort of face wash and hair product in his bedroom, Kurt got dressed and trotted reluctantly downstairs with his satchel of schoolbooks around his shoulder. As he passed through the front hall of the house and slunk past the archway to the kitchen, he winced as he heard his father call his name. Burt Hummel was the last person Kurt wanted to talk to right now. Kurt sauntered into the kitchen to see his father and his stepmom sitting at the kitchen table. Carole looked uncomfortable, her eyes flitting away as if she knew what was coming.

"Do you really think you're gonna sneak off before you tell me what the Hell happened last night?" said Burt, looking red under his baseball cap.

"Don't get worked up, Dad," Kurt said flatly, avoiding his father's eyes, "Wouldn't want you to have another heart attack."

Burt grimaced. "What's gotten into you, Kurt? Breaking your curfew at Dalton. Carole and I gave up a honeymoon to send you to that school, and don't get me wrong, we were happy to see you in a place where you feel comfortable, but the least you can do is show some respect and act like you appreciate what we've done. Is there something you don't like about it? You don't have to live at the dorms if you don't want to, Kurt."

Kurt narrowed his eyes at his dad. "Carole, can I talk to my dad alone for a minute?"

"Carole, stay. Kurt, anything you can say to me, you can say to her. What do you want to talk about?"

Kurt clenched his jaw. "I want to talk about my mother."

Burt looked slightly taken aback. "What-"

"I know the truth," Kurt stared meaningfully at Burt.

Burt was silent for several long moments. "Carole, can you excuse us?"

Carole hurried away to the next room and Burt stayed seated at the kitchen table, staring up at his son's angry eyes.

"Kurt, sit down."

"I don't want to sit down," Kurt said through gritted teeth.

"Kurt..."

"Do you know how frustrating it is? Going my whole life never knowing who my mother really was and having a classmate have to tell me the truth?"

"Who-"

"It doesn't matter, Dad. It doesn't matter who told me, okay? Because you didn't. That's all that matters. You didn't."

Burt looked truly sorry as he stared up at his soon, his mouth a tight line and his eyes full of guilt. "Kurt, please, sit down."

"How did Mom die?" asked Kurt, close to tears, "I'm betting it wasn't a car crash. Of course it wasn't. A slayer could survive a car crash, couldn't she? Mom was strong. It had to be... a pack of vampires. A demon? Did she have no-one helping her? What about her watcher? Who was her watcher?"

Burt's eyes shifted across the surface of the kitchen table. "I don't... I don't know which question to answer first."

"Answer this one. Why didn't you tell me?"

Burt met his son's eyes. "I didn't want you to live like she did. I didn't want you to think you had to avenge your mother or something. And she never would have wanted you to know. We never told you. It wasn't just me. It was us. We didn't tell you. We thought we were protecting you. Do you even remember what your mother did for a living?"

Kurt grimaced. "I always thought she was a businesswoman, but now that I think about it, that was probably a lie, right? She didn't even own any suits."

Burt nodded. "She left us, Kurt. When you were five, I told you she was going on a business trip. She was leaving us. That was the last time you saw her."

Kurt's tears were getting hot, brimming in his eyes. He had to blink them away and take a deep breath. How could he have forgotten such a large chunk of his childhood? A time when his mother was completely absent? "Why would she leave?"

Burt sighed. "That kind of destiny isn't something you can escape, Kurt. If she didn't go looking for them, they would come looking for her. And they did, every time she tried to have a normal life. She left to protect you. And to protect me."

Kurt bit his bottom lip. "Well, she did a crappy job."

"Kurt-"

"I can't talk right now, Dad, I'm gonna be late for school and I'm sure the dean is already pissed at me."

"Kurt, wait-"

Kurt stormed off, a tear sliding down his cheek as he left the house and slid in to the front seat of his car, parked in the driveway. He took deep breaths and tried to settle down before he made the journey to Westerville. He gripped the steering wheel of his parked car and sighed heavily. He shook a little as a knock came on his window. It was Finn outside, rapping his heavy knuckles against the glass. Kurt rolled down his car window and squinted as his tall, bulky stepbrother. Finn looked somehow different this morning, with his brown hair combed and parted. He wore a yellow polo shirt, tucked into a pair of flannel khakis.

"Finn?"

"Hey, buddy," Finn looked down at Kurt with mild concern, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine, thanks."

"I heard you skipped curfew last night."

Kurt sniffed. "Yeah, well, I didn't mean to. Blaine and I kind of got pulled into the scooby gang last night."

"What are you talking about?"

"That gas leak? It was a cover up story. There was a demon underground. Those eggs in Biology class were its babies."

Finn frowned. "I wish you wouldn't hang out with Buffy."

"Why not?"

"She's bad news, Kurt. Her and her 'scooby gang'. They're always getting into trouble. You spend one night with them and end up skipping curfew."

"Yeah, but it's not like they cause the trouble, Finn. Buffy is the one stopping it."

"I don't know. It just seems like the trouble happens to be wherever they go. The whole thing is unnatural."

"This has nothing to do with Rachel?"

Finn smirked. "I'm over Rachel."

"Really?"

"Yes. It's like I was brainwashed, but now I can see that Rachel and I had an unhealthy relationship. She was abrasive and ruthless and oftentimes unfemininely controlling."

Kurt blinked at his stepbrother. Unfemininely controlling? Oftentimes?

"But it wasn't Rachel's fault. It was me. I committed adultery, which, as we both know, is a sin."

Kurt just stared up at the tall teenager. "Right... Listen, I gotta go. I don't want to be late for school."

"Of course. Have a good time in Westerville, Kurt. Don't skip your curfew anymore, though. Make some new friends at Dalton. Maybe meet a nice girl."

Kurt furrowed his brow. "Uh, Finn? Gay, remember?"

Finn just shook his head. "You just haven't met the right girl yet."

And with that homophobic sentiment unusual for even Finn, the boy walked back into his house, leaving Kurt gaping after him. He had to text Buffy. Clearly, his brother was possessed.

xxx

Buffy slid her books into her locker as her phone buzzed in her pocket. She removed it and read the text from Kurt.

Something weird going on. Had a dream last nite about kitchen appliances. Don't know what that means, but i think Finn is possessed. He's brushing his hair + wearing pastels + saying adultery is a sin + being weirdly homophobic. Txt back soon.

Buffy wrinkled her nose at the message. Kitchen appliances meant very little to her, as well, and as for Finn? She had an odd feeling that Kurt was overreacting. She put her phone back into her pocket and closed her locker door to see Brittany at the end of the hall, her long blond hair swishing behind her shoulders as she laughed and talked to Artie at their lockers. Buffy couldn't help but smile just a little bit, thinking about how Santana was finally letting go. She was glad Santana would feel free again, and selfishly thought how good it would be not to have to hear her lament about her lost love anymore.

It wasn't that she found Santana's lamenting annoying. In fact, Buffy loved to hear Santana ranting, especially when it turned into a heated Spanish argument with herself. But Buffy hated hearing about how perfect Brittany was. Not that Brittany wasn't sweet. But Brittany wasn't God's gift, either. Buffy hoped it wasn't some kind of backwards jealousy speaking. After all, back when they were just getting to know each other, Santana told Buffy that she reminded her of Brittany. Buffy wasn't sure whether to be complemented by that or not. The statement's meaning plagued her more than it should.

With Santana at the back of her thoughts, Buffy walked through McKinley's hallways, looking out for Tina's black hair. She spotted the girl next to her tall, thin boyfriend, standing beside the doors to the cafeteria.

"Hey, Tina," said Buffy, meaning to ask her if kitchen appliances had any meaning in the dream world.

"Hey, Buffy," Tina greeted without taking her eyes away from the entrance to the cafeteria.

"What are you looking at?" asked Buffy.

The couple stayed silent and Mike simply nodded in the direction of the cafeteria doors. Buffy looked in the same direction and saw Morgan Ru standing on one of the cafeteria tables, practically the entire school raptly listening to her speak like a preacher.

"I used to be a slut," Morgan said loudly.

Buffy almost spluttered. Even the lunch ladies were listening.

"I took part in disgusting, perverted, unnatural acts. I used to drink. I used bad language all the time. I called my mom... a bitch."

A few of the listeners closest to Morgan gasped. Buffy snorted.

"But I'm not like that anymore," said Morgan, standing above the others in her Cheerios uniform, "I'm a good person."

A few of the listeners began to clap, but the brunt of people just walked away, chuckling or rolling their eyes.

"That is so unnatural," said Tina, folding her arms as she continued to stare into the cafeteria.

"Is this the same girl who almost crashed her dad's Miata because she kicked the gear shift while having sex?" Mike asked aloud.

"What is this?" Buffy raised an eyebrow.

Tina shook her head. "A bunch of kids are having this 'good person' rally. Talking about the dangers of sex and alcohol. Some of the girls who used to be in the Christ Crusaders. Morgan. Some girl named Penny. Brett Donovan."

Buffy looked surprised. "Brett Donovan? The Weed King, Brett? Brett who smells homeless?"

Tina nodded her head. "Not anymore."

Buffy looked back at the small crowd talking in the cafeteria and spotted a boy who looked like he could have been Brett's preppy brother. His dark red hair was cut and combed to one side, and his face was clean and pink and lightly freckled.

"That's Brett?" Buffy gasped, just barely recognizing the boy without his long, greasy tendrils of unwashed hair or the glazed over look in his eyes. Even his clothes were different. Pastel and khakis.

"I think the Christ Crusaders are in hyper-drive recruiting mode," said Mike.

"I'll say," said Buffy, "Kurt texted me, saying that Finn started wearing khakis and acting all sanctimonious. I thought he was overreacting, but I maybe not."

Tina shook her head. "Next thing you know, they've started a cult."

"The khaki cult," said Mike.

Buffy blinked as a blond boy passed behind her.

"Sam!" Buffy called. Her stomach dropped at the sight of him. A blue polo under a pink (pink!) argyle sweater. And khakis! Khakis!

Sam turned to look at her, his blond hair combed to one side. "Oh, Buffy. Can I help you?"

Tina and Mike gaped at Buffy's boyfriend. "Can you help me?" Buffy asked.

Sam smiled blithely. "Do you have a question?"

Buffy stared at him, slack-jawed.

"I have a question," said Mike, "Why are you dressed like Mr. Rogers?"

Sam smirked. "There's a meeting in the Lima Community Centre tonight. Why don't you come and find out?"

Sam smiled cryptically and walked away with his backpack strapped around his shoulders.

"Something's wrong..." said Tina, "Seriously wrong."

xxx

Quinn stormed down the hallway with her hands on the hips of her Cheerios uniform. She didn't quite know where she was going or who she was looking for. She just knew she was keeping her eyes peeled for someone to vent to. She tensed her shoulders when she saw Rachel at her locker, straightening her post-its in a little denim skirt and a navy sweater set. Quinn strode forward and slammed Rachel's locker door shut, making the girl jump.

"Quinn!"

"What is going on with this school today?!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Did you hear about Morgan's stupid little rally in the cafeteria this morning? Preaching about religion and abstinence?! As if! That was my thing! Until I got pregnant..."

Rachel smiled warmly. "Quinn, you don't have to worry about Morgan Ru eclipsing your memory. You're a legend. Always will be."

Quinn's breathing calmed a little and she looked guiltily at the floor. "I don't know what I'm getting so upset about. I don't know if I even want this anymore. The popularity. God, I don't even want to be a cheerleader."

"So don't be one," Rachel smiled simply, "You have so much going for you already. You're beautiful and intelligent and a natural leader."

Quinn blushed. "I don't know why you're so nice to me," she said quietly, "I don't deserve it."

"Don't say that. You've been through so much and you're a better person for it. I admire you, Quinn, really. Being able to just call you my friend means the world to me."

Quinn sighed. "I messed up being your friend once. A few times."

"Everyone makes mistakes."

"And I make fiascos."

"Quinn-"

"I really don't know how to be your friend. I'm not Buffy or Tina. I can't just be normal and hang out. I know I look indifferent all the time but it's usually because I'm afraid to show people just how anxious I am. I guess I'm just trying to say that I'm not good with people."

Rachel let her eyes settle on Quinn's face before she took the girl's smooth, warm hand and held it in between both of hers. Quinn felt a tingle in her spine and a warm feeling at the touch of Rachel's palms. She had a strange urge to throw herself forward and hug the girl, and breathe in whatever mixture of soap and perfume she smelled like. She also felt an equal urge to jerk her hand away and clasp it behind her back. She self-consciously looked around at the other people in the hallway, but the sparse amount of students weren't paying them any attention.

"You don't need to be some popular social butterfly to be my friend," said Rachel, "You don't need to always have something charming or charismatic or witty to say. And I don't admire you because you're cool or popular. I admire you, Quinn, because you're graceful in any situation. Because you're intelligent beyond the realm of academics. Because you're strong and feminine and spirited. Because what you want, you get. Just be you, okay? There's no one else like you."

Quinn pursed her lips and was little more than limp as Rachel pulled her close and wrapped her arms around her waist, leaning in for a hug. Quinn let her tuck her chin into her shoulder and felt her brown hair against her cheek. Quinn closed her eyes and noted that it smelled like strawberries. Quinn even stepped out of her comfort zone and hugged back for one blissful moment. She splayed her hands against the small of Rachel's back and smiled to herself.

When Rachel pulled back, Quinn was blushing, and found herself trying to look anywhere but at the girl she'd just hugged.

"Thanks, Rachel," she said lamely and quickly walked away in her white Keds.

She turned the corner and immediately her stomach was churning with a lot of feelings she'd rather have kept hidden. Mostly, though, she was embarrassed. Embarrassed for hugging the girl she was supposed to hate and enjoying it so damn much. She felt a burning through all of her body and she wanted it extinguished. She'd rather feel nothing than feel anything for Rachel Berry. Quinn raised her head and spotted a familiar mohawk down the hall.

"Puckerman," she grunted as she passed the boy in his low hanging jeans and tight white t-shirt.

"Hey, MILF," smirked Puck, leaning against a row of lockers.

"Girls room," Quinn ordered, "Now."

Next thing she knew, Quinn had Noah Puckerman crammed in a bathroom stall and was kissing his neck. He kept opening his mouth and closing it again, not knowing quite how to react to the sudden interest Quinn was showing him. Quinn ran her fingers under his shirt to feel his abs, and then decided against it almost as soon as she had done it.

"Kiss my neck," she ordered him.

"Um, okay," he said enthusiastically, and put his hands on her hips to hitch her up slightly and kiss her neck.

Quinn sighed as his hands moved up her skirt. "Okay, stop," she said.

"Quinn, what are you-"

Quinn leaned forward and put her hands on his face, pulling him close and sticking her tongue in his mouth. He leaned into the kiss with fervor. Quinn pulled back and looked at his face for a moment.

"I'm done," she said, simply.

"What do you mean? What were we doing?"

"I wanted to see if I still had feelings for you. I don't," Quinn said coldly and straightened her skirt.

Puck frowned and pushed the stall door open, stomping out without a word. Quinn grimaced and tightened her ponytail, straightening up as she noticed someone standing at the sinks. Penny Larson, from homeroom, and one of Morgan's new Christ Crusader friend. Crap, thought Quinn. Penny was side-eyeing her, frowning disapprovingly, standing at the sink with a long tartan skirt and a pink pastel sweater.

Quinn looked at herself in the mirror. Her face was pale. How was it that she blushed when Rachel Berry gave her a hug but felt close to nothing after being caught making out with her baby daddy in a girl's room cubicle? Quinn tore her eyes away from her reflection and noticed Penny still staring at her, frowning righteously.

"What?!" Quinn snapped.

"Don't you have any shame?" asked Penny, her strawberry blond hair bone straight and ending at her shoulders.

Quinn sneered. "Don't you have any dress sense? You look like a beanie baby."

"And you look like a slut."

"Excuse me?!"

"Do you think having sex with boys will make them respect you? If you behave like a slut, they'll treat you like a slut."

Quinn stared at Penny. "You might want to mind your own business."

Penny stared into Quinn's eyes, looking severe. "You don't need to behave like this. You can be so much better."

Quinn looked back at her, wide-eyed.

xxx

Santana paced outside of Quinn's bedroom. School had ended hours ago and she still wasn't home. Santana supposed she might be training with Jesse, but really hoped she wasn't. It was one of those days when Santana really needed a sister to talk to. She tapped her fingertips together and bit her bottom lip. Damn it, Quinn, she thought, Hurry up! Just as she'd spoken too soon, Quinn walked up to the landing with her backpack strapped over her back.

"Quinn, finally," Santana groaned, before she noticed something different about the girl, "Where's your Cheerios uniform?"

Quinn smiled up at Santana, looking simply blissful. "Hello, Santana. I quit Cheerios."

"You quit? Why?"

"I wasn't getting anything out of it anymore. The girls in the squad were the wrong kind of crowd for me to hang out with."

"Okay. Did you have to trade it in for that sucktastic get-up? It looks like Rachel Berry dressed you this morning. Is that a khaki skirt? And I'm sorry, what shade of vomit is that sweater set? Quinn, what happened to you?"

Quinn just smiled and walked into her bedroom, setting her backpack down beside her desk as Santana followed her in.

"I don't mind if you make fun of me," said Quinn, "I know it's just because you're insecure."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Be like that. But I need to talk to you."

Quinn smiled up at Santana and sat down at her computer desk. "What can I help you with?"

Santana sat at the edge of Quinn's bed. "I don't know if you can help me. I just need to vent, okay?"

"Alright."

"I have a problem."

"What kind of problem?"

"A problem where I'm a total masochist and want to sabotage my whole life."

"Pardon?"

"It's Buffy."

"What did Buffy do now?" Quinn wrinkled her nose.

"It's not her fault. It's my fault. I'm like some sort of pathetic abduction victim who latches on to their hero. God, it's so embarrassing."

Quinn nodded thoughtfully. "What exactly are you saying?"

"I'm saying that Buffy helped me get over Brittany and now it's like... Buffy's all I can think about. I mean, just shoot me in the head. What is my problem?"

Quinn sighed and leaned forward, her blond hair held back by a thick headband. "Listen, Santana, you don't have to feel bad about unwanted urges and emotions. It's not your fault. Blame the sin, not the sinner."

"...What are talking about?"

"I mean, you're not the only one to have inappropriate feelings. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I've felt those kind of feelings for Rachel Berry."

Santana's mouth dropped open. "Rachel Berry?"

Quinn nodded. "I know, it's shameful."

"No, I guess I'm just... surprised to hear you admit it."

"Yes. But now I can see that feelings like that shouldn never be acted on. It's okay to be sexually confused as long as we abstain from any sordid activity until we're married. To men."

Santana furrowed her brow. "Quinn, what... What are you talking about?"

"I know you're confused, Santana, about Buffy and Brittany, but homosexuality is a sin, and so is sex before marriage. I've repented. So should you."

"Okay. I don't know what game you're trying to play right now, but you're talking like a freak and you look Amish, so get some sleep and maybe we can talk about this tomorrow."

"Jesus loves you, Santana. Love him back."

Santana stood up and looked down at her friend. "Maybe later."