This chapter has been long overdue. Thanks for your patient wait. I hope you guys enjoy and tell me all your thoughts on this chapter. There's only a few more chapters left before this season is wrapped up! Any song suggestions for the musical companion?
TW: gun violence.
"So, if we make all of our own costumes with Mercedes' discount at the fabric store and don't travel outside of the state, we can keep glee club open for the rest of the year."
"Yeah," said Quinn, leaning over the table and circling her finger over the rim of her virgin lemontini, "And it's not like if we run out of money we can't all get together and sing about our feelings."
"Sure, but it's so much easier to feel like a star when you have a pay-by-the-hour rented community center orchestra backing your vocals."
Quinn smirked and listened to the sub-par band that played on the open stage of the Bronze.
"At least you're being reasonable with the money. The event planning committee is blowing all of theirs right off the bat with this stupid Sadie Hawkins dance."
"I hate to say I'm not surprised they would exhibit such poor management skills," Rachel shook her head, "Especially now that Brittany is a key member."
"Yeah, Brittany's pretty impulsive..." Quinn said distractedly, "Even more so lately. She keeps joining all of these clubs. I used to think you took the cake for extra-curricular activities, but Brittany's schedule is overbooked. I guess that's how she wants it..."
"Why?"
"She needs the distraction. I'm guessing so that she doesn't have to think of Santana."
"Do you think she's using the Sadie Hawkins dance as a distraction?"
"Probably. I guess we could all use it, huh?"
Rachel shrugged. "I can't say I'm looking forward to it."
Quinn frowned. "Why not?"
Rachel shook her head, looking shy. "It's just another thing that makes me face the problems I've been trying to avoid."
"Problems like... us?"
"Partly," Rachel's shoulders drooped in defeat, "Oh, Quinn, I wish things were simpler."
"Rachel, you need to stop worrying so much. Whatever this is for now, I'm fine with it."
"I know that and I appreciate that, but that's not going to last forever. What happens when you're sick of waiting for me to stop being scared? What happens when you meet someone else who is nice and good-looking and ready and I'm just here, holding you back, making you wait-"
Quinn grabbed Rachel's hand and squeezed it tight. "Chill. We have enough to be worried about for now. We can think about this later, when everything is... calmer."
Rachel scoffed. "The only calm on the Hellmouth we'll ever experience is the calm before the storm."
Quinn smirked. "So when it all goes down, at least we'll know how we feel."
From a weathered couch, Buffy watched her friends having fun on the dancefloor, Mike and Puck goofing around and Quinn and Rachel having a heart-to-heart at a tall table. Tina had gone to the bar to get a couple of Cokes for them both and Buffy was glad for the moment of quiet. She had felt so disconnected from everything lately. Losing Santana had been devastating, but losing Ms. Pillsbury had only sharpened the pain. She felt somehow responsible for both.
"Buffy?"
Buffy looked up to see a cute guy standing over her with sandy hair and a dimply smile.
"Hi?"
"I'm Ben. We had Algebra II together last year."
Buffy blinked blankly back at him. "Um, sorry. I try to repress anything math related."
"Ms. Jackson. Second period. You were in the seat three over, one behind..."
"Oh, yeah, I remember now," she smiled and nodded unconvincingly, "Weren't there chalkboard and pencils and desks and stuff?"
"That's the one," Ben chuckled.
Buffy grinned awkwardly and tapped her head. "Like a steel trap."
"So, I was wondering. That dance tomorrow... Are you going?"
"That Sadie Hawkins thing? Isn't that the deal where the girl asks the guy?"
"Uh, yeah. I was thinking, if you're free, you might... ask me?"
Buffy opened her mouth and blanked. "Oh, gosh, I..." she started, trailing off dismally.
Ben started to blush and nodded profusely. "Hey, no, don't worry about it."
"It's not you. You seem great. It's just that... I'm not seeing anybody... ever again."
"That's too bad. Uh, I'd better..."
Ben shuffled off, embarrassed, and Buffy shook her hair back with a sigh, grabbing her purse and standing up from the worn-in couch.
"Hey, are you leaving?" asked Tina, coming over with two Cokes in her hands, wearing a lacy black number that said Classic Tina.
"Yeah, I'm gonna stop by the school and see if Will wants me to patrol. Then I'll probably hit the hay."
"You've been doing a lot of that lately, huh? Patrolling and... hitting the hay. You've kind of been all work no play, Buffy."
"I play," Buffy shrugged, "I came here, didn't I?"
"You came. You saw. You rejected," said Tina, setting down the glasses on a mismatch coffee table.
"You mean that guy? I'm just... I'm not in date-mode right now. Not after everything."
"No, I get that. What happened with Santana was rough and... I just think that you don't have to feel bad about not feeling bad. You know what I mean?"
"Yeah, I know, but it's hard. It seems like everytime I find happiness it ends in murder."
"Yeah, but, love isn't always like that. Love can be... nice."
Buffy gave her a half-hearted smirk and tightened her grip on her purse. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"She said no to that Ben guy. At least I think so. Did you see?"
Mercedes rolled her eyes as she leaned against the bar. "No, I didn't see, Sam, because I'm actually trying to enjoy myself instead of staring at Buffy like a creeper."
Sam turned around and furrowed his brow at Mercedes. "I'm not a creeper."
"You're acting like one," Mercedes frowned as the bartender handed her a Sprite, "You're not the only one trying to get over an ex, okay?"
"I know, but, this is different."
"What? Did the person you love dump you for a hotter girl?" she raised a dark eyebrow.
"Well... technically-"
"You need to get over it. I know you can't help being hung up on her but try not being so proactive about."
"So what am I supposed to do? Pretend I was never in love with her? Act like everything's normal?"
"Good idea."
Sam shook his head and looked back in the other direction as Buffy slipped out of the entrance. "I wouldn't even know where to start."
Mercedes cleared her throat and set her drink back down. "Dance with me," she smiled lightheartedly as the band finished up and a Taio Cruz song came on the speakers.
xxx
Brittany shoved her knee pads and sweat bands into the bottom of her McKinley duffel bag and swung it over her shoulder, leaving the girl's locker room in a gray t-shirt with 'McKinley' emblazoned across the chest. She'd stayed back at school to practise with the volleyball team she'd just joined and when all of the other girls shuffled out to meet at The Bronze for root beers and a live band, Brittany stayed behind and hit the volleyball against the gym wall for hours.
Her shoulders and wrists ached from all of the practise, but still she was reluctant to go home. She didn't know how she could do all of the normal things anymore. Eat hotdogs at pep rallies, sing in glee club, go to Breadstix with Artie. She felt a nagging restlessness ever since what happened to Santana... happened. The thing that bothered her the most was that Santana was always going through so many changes and Brittany hadn't been there for her. She'd let Santana get away with distancing herself and slipping away into Buffy's arms.
Brittany knew she didn't deserve to feel jealous or left behind. She didn't deserve to grieve like Buffy did because it wasn't 'Brittany and Santana' anymore. That was over. It was gone when Brittany officially severed their bond by choosing Artie. The last thing Brittany wanted to do was regret her relationship with her boyfriend, but she and Santana had been best friends since the age of six. That doesn't just go away.
She walked down the row of lockers, her shoulders slumped and her eyes steady on the ground, when her thoughts were interrupted by a heated shout coming from down the hall.
"Come back here! We're not finished!" she heard a boy yell, "You don't care anymore, is that it?"
"It doesn't matter! It doesn't matter what I feel!" said a girl, her voice about to break as she began to cry.
Brittany slowed her breathing and crept up the row of lockers, peering around the corner at a pair of kids she recognised from her remedial Economics class. Cory and Elaine - two kids she'd never even seen sit together, but now they were obviously in the middle of an argument, Cory's chest heaving up and down and his mouth pulled down in a grimace.
"Tell me you don't love me," he shouted and grabbed her wrist, "Say it!"
"I don't. Is that what you need to hear? I don't. I don't! Now let me go," said Elaine, pulling away from him.
"No. A person doesn't just wake up one day and stop loving somebody."
Cory reeled back and reached into the waistband of his pants, removing a gun that Brittany hadn't noticed before. Brittany's breath caught in her throat as he pointed the gun at the sobbing girl's chest.
"Love is forever," he said ominously, "I'm not afraid to use it. I swear... if I can't be with you-"
A ball formed in Brittany's throat as her eyes swivelled to the opposite hall where Buffy had walked in, her purse slung across her shoulder.
"Buffy!" Brittany cried.
Buffy looked up alertly and noticed the boy's gun pointed directly at Elaine's chest.
"Hey!" Buffy shouted.
Elaine jumped and twirled around, breaking into a sprint.
"Don't walk away from me, bitch!" Cory yelled as Buffy ran towards him, twisting his arm so the gun fell out of his strained grip and sending a firm punch into his solar plexus.
She grabbed a fistful of his white t-shirt and threw him to the ground. He groaned, his eyes wide with fear. Brittany bit her bottom lip and ran towards Elaine, who was standing at the end of the hall, disoriented. Buffy pulled Cory back up and pinned him against the wall.
"What happened?" he spluttered.
"What happened?! You just went OJ on your girlfriend!"
"I... I don't know what happened. I don't know why I got so mad."
"Is it because you're a dick?"
"He's not," Elaine said, desperately, shivering as Brittany patted her shoulder, "We weren't even fighting a few minutes ago."
"We weren't, I swear to God-"
"If you weren't fighting, then why'd you have a gun?" Buffy challenged him, frowning sternly.
"I- I don't know. I don't even know where I got it," he said, his voice wavering.
Brittany frowned at the linoleum tiles. "...I don't see the gun."
Buffy turned around, her eyes scanning the floor. Sure enough, the gun was gone.
xxx
Kurt slumped over his bedsheets, his laptop humming quietly on the end of his bed as he opened tab after tab of forums and blog posts about psychic powers, mind-reading and visions. It all seemed useless - hokey tricks to hone your intuition and ads for learning how to read tarot cards. With the risk of sounding self-absorbed, he knew that no-one had his problems.
Blaine paced back and forth in the bedroom, throwing a powerball up in the air and catching it with the ease of his quick reflexes. He was pacing fast, his eyes flicking from Kurt to his rubber ball. Kurt could tell he was restless and frustrated. He had become even more eager for a physical relationship since becoming a werewolf - all that adrenaline, probably. But Kurt didn't want to risk it.
"I don't mind if you can read my thoughts, you know," Blaine said, suddenly.
"I mind," Kurt said, again, "Those are your private thoughts. I don't want to hear them."
"I don't have anything to hide. You know the most important things. I'm a werewolf. A Wham fan. Kurt, you even know about the..." Blaine's eyes lingered on Kurt's open bedroom door, "...my father's job. And that's top secret."
"I know, and I appreciate how honest you are with me, but sometimes the things we need to keep to ourselves aren't the most important things, like, the memory of how our mothers used to smell or our fantasies about being cast in a reboot of the Rocky Horror Picture Show."
Blaine wrinkled his brow. "I don't have any of that."
Kurt sighed, his eyes straying from his laptop screen. "That's not all. I'm not supposed to read your mind, Blaine. Not just for ethical reasons. It's not supposed to be possible. You're supposed to be immune to the powers of magic. If you're not immune to me, than maybe..."
"Maybe it's not magic," Blaine finished his thought, "Then what is it?"
"Exactly what I want to know. I just have no idea how to figure it out. It's getting more out of control by the day."
"Do you think it's because of your mother?"
Kurt quirked an eyebrow. "My mother?"
"Slayers don't usually have children. I've never heard of a slayer having a child before you, Kurt. They don't usually live long enough... What if they can pass on... abilities?"
"Who am I supposed to talk to about that? Mrs. Schuester told me everything she knew. My dad and Mrs. Cohen don't know anything... Tina's research mode is always on autopilot. I know if she ever found something, she'd tell me."
"Maybe... maybe talk to Buffy."
"Why?"
"She is a slayer. If there's anyone who understands the power of a slayer, it's gotta be her."
xxx
"Ms. Summers, I'm sure you know why I called you to my office."
Buffy sat in the pleated cushion seat opposite Principal Figgins' desk. He stared at her from behind it, a deep frown setting wrinkles into his face and clutching a sleek metal pen in between his fingers.
"To... thank me?" Buffy raised an eyebrow. It was the morning after she'd knocked a gun out of Cory Stephens' hand only for the weapon to disappear without a trace.
"Yes," Principal Figgins laughed, "What would McKinley do without Buffy Summers to incite mayhem and disorder?"
Buffy gasped. "I did not incite anything. I stopped that boy from killing his girlfriend! I'm the hero here."
"I've been suspicious of you from day one, Ms. Summers, and trouble has followed you around like a stalker ex-mistress."
"What are you saying?!"
"One word, Ms. Summers," Figgins leaned in, "Conspiracy."
Buffy raised an eyebrow. "You think I'm apart of a conspiracy? What would I even conspire to do?"
"That's what I intend to find out. I have a missing gun and two confused student on my hands. I'm going to keep looking into this until I find every piece of the puzzle and what you had to do with this."
"Why are you so sure I had anything to do with it?"
"Your track record doesn't help you, Ms. Summers," he frowned as his intercom buzzed.
"Principal Figgins, Channing Pokipsy chained himself to the vending machine again."
Figgins' grumbled. "Why couldn't we pull funding from the Vegan Society?" he shook his head and pointed a finger at Buffy, "You stay right there, Ms. Summers. We're not finished."
Buffy pouted and slumped in her chair as Principal Figgins stood up and left the office. She was no stranger to the saying, 'No good deed goes unpunished'. She pinched the bridge of her nose as the office door slammed closed. She couldn't take this now. Being hounded by the school administration for what? Doing her job? Keeping the citizens of Lima safe? She was two dead parents and a billion dollars away from being Batman.
She shook as she heard a thud on the carpet and looked up to see a book had fallen from Figgins' short bookcase full of square cubby holes. She stood up and flipped the book open to see it was a 1954-55 issue of the Thunderclap, McKinley's annual school yearbook. She shrugged and slipped it back into it's place on the shelf.
xxx
Rachel's ballet flats made squeaky sounds as she walked back to a classroom in the south side of McKinley, with only three other students waiting for her - Casey, Heinrich and a red-haired boy her classmates nicknamed 'Stoner Brett'.
"Figgins took away Channing's handcuffs and called his parents," she sighed irritably, her hands resting on her hips.
"Class hasn't even let out yet! Does this mean no-one saw the act of protest?" asked Heinrich, a guy in Rachel's French class who wore a different beret to class every day.
"I guess we're going to have to find another way to bring awareness to McKinley's gross nutrition standards," said Rachel, "Any ideas?"
"Um, vegan bake sale?" Casey suggested uncertainly.
"Derivative," Heinrich rolled his eyes.
"No, it could work," Rachel nodded, "My dad has this recipe for pumpkin donuts."
"And we can brownies," said Brett, "Like, with all natural ingredients."
"Rachel?"
Rachel turned to the door where Tina had walked in, leaning against the frame.
"Let's continue this discussion tomorrow," Rachel said, clapping her hands together and turning back to her classmates, "And I want more ideas, okay? Casey, you want to look up recipes?"
Casey nodded and shyly followed the boys out of the room, leaving only Rachel and Tina inside.
"Sorry, I didn't realize I was interrupting anything. It's my free period."
"No, it's fine. Vegan Society," Rachel shrugged.
"I didn't know there was a Vegan Society."
"There wasn't, but since the Young Anarchists Association disbanded because... well, because they're anarchists, we decided to take their unused funding from and use it to call awareness to the meat and butter obsession of our society."
"There's really been an uptake in extra-curriculars lately, huh? Seems like everybody's trying to keep busy."
"Yes, well, everybody reacts to tragedy differently. And maybe our authorities think that signing their students up for activities will keep them out of trouble until we get our new guidance counselor next year."
"I don't know if it's working. Did Buffy tell you what happened last night?"
"Yeah, I heard. It's scary. I thought we'd seen it all. Praying mantis ladies and invisible girls, but guns? That's so... human."
"They never found it. Buffy got told off by Principal Figgins just for being there."
"Poor Buffy," Rachel frowned sympathetically.
"Yeah, poor Buffy. She hasn't been acting like herself. She's been upset about Santana but it's been even worse since Ms. Pillsbury died. I don't think she's even going to the Sadie Hawkins dance."
"Well, like I said, everyone grieves differently. Buffy just needs time."
Tina nodded. "Hopefully that's it. I'd hate to see her give up altogether."
xxx
"Have you talked to Buffy?" Blaine hissed at the back of Algebra II.
Kurt grimaced, his head down in an exercise book as Mr. Walsh paced the room, craning his neck to make sure students weren't making mischief.
"Not yet."
"When are you gonna talk to her?"
"I don't know, Blaine. It's a sensitive subject."
"You don't have to be... embarrassed. You help Buffy all the time. It's okay to ask for help."
"I know, I know, it's just... What am I supposed to ask? This is kind of... unique. I'm not sure she can help me."
"If she can't, then who can?"
Kurt shrugged. "Maybe-"
"Mr. Hummel? Mr. Anderson?" called Mr. Walsh. Kurt and Blaine looked up sheepishly as their bespectacled teacher stared at them with hands on his hips. "Can I get a little less conversation and a little more algebra, please?"
Their classmates tittered as Kurt and Blaine ducked their heads back down into their math problems.
"I'm just saying," Blaine whispered under his breath, keeping his head down close to the table, "We don't have a lot to go on. Maybe Buffy can help you find the source of her power and, well, the source of your power... Kurt?"
Kurt clenched his jaw as the classroom seemed to fade away. When he looked up, slightly disoriented, he was somewhere else. Still in a classroom, but not the fancy hardwood molding and red insignias of Dalton Academy. He sat at a desk and looked out of the broad window to see the gym building a short distance away, near the football field that was bordered by a parking lot.
It was McKinley, but Kurt didn't recognize any of the people. They were all much more buttoned up than his old classmates. They looked like they were from another decade, with high ponytails tied in fabric ribbons, penny loafers and even an ascot or two.
"Don't forget you have assignments due on Monday," said the teacher, who wore a poodle skirt and cat-rimmed glasses.
As the bell rang, the students stood up, chatting with each other and filing out of the classrooms. Two girls wearing sweaters draped over their shoulders giggled together, while one held a slightly crumpled flyer advertising an upcoming dance.
"Who are you taking?"
"David said yes!"
"You're kidding, he's so dreamy!"
As the rest of the students made their way out, one boy in a McKinley letterman jacket stayed back, handing a paper to the teacher.
"Thank you, James," she simpered sweetly, her dark red hair catching the light that poured in through the window, "How are you enjoying that book I loaned you?"
James' eyes barely moved as he stared intently at his teacher, his brown, gelled hair parted unassumingly. "I like it, very much... It's honest."
"Yes, it's, um... It's based on a true story, actually," said the teacher, beginning to get flustered as the boy continued to stare at her. She put his hand on his, almost an automated move. "He fell in love with his-"
Kurt woke up. Back in Dalton, except the classroom was empty, save for Blaine who leaned against his desk, waiting patiently for Kurt to come to.
"What did you see?" he asked.
Kurt raised an eyebrow, rethinking the vision that seemed more real and less vague than any he'd ever had. "I'm not sure."
xxx
"I'm telling you. Something weird is going on."
Buffy had walked out of English class with Mercedes, who was eager to find out what happened last night after Brittany had told all of the girls on the volleyball team that Cory had a gun after school hours.
"Something weird is going on?" Mercedes chuckled, "Isn't that our school motto?"
"Pretty much. But, I don't know, it bugs me. I have to figure it out without Principal Figgins giving me a hard time."
"It's seems like the only time you get these days is the hard kind."
"Seems like it," Buffy sighed and then looked imploringly at Mercedes when they reached the girl's locker, "Hey, I was wondering, how is Sam? We don't really talk like we use to."
"He's still hung up on you, that's for sure."
Buffy frowned. "He is?"
"I wouldn't worry about it, Buffy. He'll be okay. He just needs a friend and I'm happy to fill in that position."
"That's sweet. Are you... are you taking anyone to the Sadie Hawkins dance?"
Mercedes shrugged. "I've never been good at asking guys out."
"Maybe you should take Sam," Buffy said enthusiastically.
"You're not trying to force your sloppy seconds on to me, are you?"
"Of course not. But you may as well go with a friend, huh?"
"I guess so. It's just, Sam's in a vulnerable place right now and I don't want him getting clingy and cramping my style."
"Well, I heard somebody asked Shane."
Mercedes raised an eyebrow. "That's low. Even for you."
Buffy grinned. "Sorry. I just think you might be exactly what Sam needs right now."
Mercedes shrugged and opened her locker, only for a hand with rotting flesh and yellow nails to reach through and pull at her pink sweatshirt, pulling her against the wall of lockers. Buffy gasped and pulled Mercedes away from the locker and slammed the door shut with the hand inside. The girls glanced at each other, breathless. They looked back at the classmates who had stopped and were staring in their direction, mumbling to each other.
Buffy cautiously opened the locker door again, but the arm was gone and there were only Mercedes' knick-knacks adorning the inside. Buffy's cellphone started beeping inside her pocket and she hastily removed it to see Kurt's name on the screen.
"Bad news, I'm guessing?" she answered in the hallway.
"You're an intuitive one, Buffy Summers. I'm not actually sure how bad the news is yet."
"A vision?"
"Felt more like a flashback. It was McKinley, in the 50s, I think. All I saw was a student, looked like a football player, talking to his hottie teacher after class. He thanked her for a book she'd let him borrow. It looked like it could've either been the start of a Lifetime movie or a terrible porno. I was hoping it means more to you than it does to me."
Buffy chewed her lip. "I don't think so. But there is something weird going on at school, so, thanks, Kurt. Is that everything?"
Kurt paused a moment. "Yeah, that's it."
xxx
Jesse let his duffel bag fall to the floor as soon as he closed the front door of his house. He rubbed the back of his neck. He had slept on Quinn's couch in Lima Heights, again. He'd gotten roped into babysitting Beth as Shelby tried to translate Romanian rituals. The strange thing was, he didn't hate it. Especially since Quinn had taken to bonding with her daughter. She came home early from her date with Rachel at the Bronze last night - "It was not a date!" - to play with Beth and put her to bed.
If he wasn't mistaken, his little blond friend seemed happy these days. He wasn't sure what had changed, especially since the death and loss in the lives of the slayer and her justice league was at a high, but he wasn't going to question it. Not when Quinn was light on her toes and smiling with seemingly no reason.
The only detriment was what it did to his sleeping patterns. Not that Jesse had anywhere to be. Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered coming home. Leaning against the door, he looked up as his mother made her way down the sweeping marble staircase in a tennis skirt and an argyle sweater.
"Just getting home, Jesse?" she asked, looking him up and down in his dark brown leather jacket and his unironed white t-shirt.
"I stayed at a friend's."
"I didn't realize you'd be coming and going at all hours when you dropped out of UCLA."
Jesse sighed irritably. His parents took an opportunity they could to remind Jesse that he was a screw-up dropout.
"Quinn needed my help."
"Is she your girlfriend?"
"No," Jesse wrinkled her nose, "We're just friends."
"Perhaps you should ask her out. You two could have a double date with your father and I at the country club."
Jesse bristled as she reached the bottom of the staircase. "It's 'your father and me', mother," he corrected under his breath, "And why are you trying to get me to date Quinn?"
Eleanor crossed her arms. "I'm just trying to find you some prospects, Jesse. If you're not going to go to college or work for your father's firm, maybe you can find a girl with money and status whose coattails you can hang onto."
Jesse grimaced. "If you have something to say, just say it."
"Fine. Your father and I decided to enroll you in OSU-Lima next year."
"You're kidding. I'm not going to college in Lima."
"Yes, you are. Unless you have a better plan. If you come up with something, your father and I will support you, but we're not going to stand idly by while you waste your life. If you can't make any decision about your future, one will be made for you."
She began to walk away to the closet, where her squash rackets lie.
"Who gave you the right?" Jesse called.
She turned back to him, smirking. "Whom."
xxx
Buffy walked Mercedes to Mr. Schuester's office, her pink sweatshirt slightly askew after her run-in with the zombie arm that had appeared and promptly vanished in her locker.
"Mercedes, what happened?" asked Will, who looked up from books spread out on his desk. He had dark circles around his eyes that betrayed the fact that he hadn't been sleeping right at all lately.
"I just had an encounter with a locker monster."
"Loch-ness monster?" Will furrowed his brow.
"No, locker monster," said Buffy, "Except it wasn't really a locker and more like this undead arm that came out of the locker but when we opened it again, it was gone."
"This is right before Kurt called Buffy about a vision he had," said Mercedes.
"Vision?" asked Will.
"McKinley in the 50s. Nothing super incriminating, though."
"Sounds like a poltergeist," said Will.
"I should tell Tina," Buffy sighed, "She's been waiting for an Amityville Horror sitch since day one."
"Why is it here?" asked Mercedes, "Is it just trying to give everyone the major creeps?"
"I guess we don't know that yet," said Will.
"How do we stop it?" asked Buffy.
"I guess one way is to resolve the spirit's unfinished business."
"So now we're Dr. Phil for the deceased?"
"We should find out who the spirit is... or was."
xxx
Brittany headed out of the locker room that night, a yellow sweatshirt draped over her exercise clothes. She strained her ears for anything out of the norm, but she didn't think there was anyone else but herself hanging around after hours. She walked down the hall until she heard faint footsteps behind her. She whipped around to see Mike Chang heading towards her in jeans and his letterman jacket.
"Oh. Hi, Mike."
"Hey, Brittany," he said, looking at her yoga pants, "More volleyball practise?"
"Ladies' lacrosse," she replied.
"You're spreading yourself kind of thin lately, huh?"
"Like cookie dough," she shrugged.
"I don't think you should be here alone. Not after what happened yesterday."
"I guess I..." Brittany shrugged, "I don't know. I think if something happened again, I could help. Like Buffy. She's always helping people."
Mike nodded. "Even Buffy needs help sometimes."
Brittany shrugged and looked at the floor. Mike frowned, feeling sympathy. She seemed so lost, so girlishly innocent.
"You and Artie haven't hung out lately, huh?"
"He told you?"
Mike nodded. "He's just worried about you, Brittany. We all are."
Brittany nodded, still staring at the floor for fear she might cry. "I shouldn't be sad."
"What do you mean?"
"I let Santana go. And now she loves Buffy. So I shouldn't be sad. I'm stealing Buffy's sadness."
Mike frowned. "Brittany, no-one has a monopoly on sadness. If you feel bad, you don't have to hide it. You can talk to me or Quinn or Mr. Schuester or any of us. We're your friends."
Brittany sniffed. "Thanks, Mike."
"No problem. Let me walk you to your car."
"Thanks," Brittany smiled.
"Yeah, no problem. And Brittany? You can't make me disappear just because you say it's over."
Brittany looked up at him, both of them staring at each other for a long, daunting moment.
"There's no way we can be together," Brittany sighed, her voice full of regret, "No way people will ever understand. Accept it."
"Is that what this is about? What other people think?"
"No," Brittany sobbed, "I just want you to have a normal life. We can never have that. Don't you get it?"
"I don't give a damn about a normal life. I'm going crazy without you. I think about you every minute."
Brittany walked forward, smiling sadly. "I know," she said, bringing her hand to Mike's cheek, "But it's over. It has to be."
Brittany turned on her heel and walked away before Mike caught up with her, grabbing her arm and pulling her back.
"Come back here! We're not finished yet!," he shouted, "You don't care anymore, is that it?"
"It doesn't matter! It doesn't matter what I feel!" Brittany sobbed
"Tell me you don't love me. Say it!" Mike yelled, grabbing and twisting Brittany's thin wrist.
"I don't. Is that what you need to hear? I don't. I don't! Now let me go."
"No. A person doesn't just wake up one day and stop loving somebody."
Mike lifted his arm, pointing a shiny silver gun at Brittany. Her eyes widened at the sight of the thin pistol. She backed up, sobbing.
"Love is forever."