Chapter 81

The Election

"Are you excited?"

Kurt pursed his lips. "Uh huh."

Red, white and blue campaign posters wallpapered McKinley High. Most of them were for Rachel's new and sudden 'Berry the Competition' campaign, but a few of Kurt's and Sugar's were peppered around the place. Blaine frowned at them as he walked alongside his boyfriend.

"Don't be nervous. She's been plastering her face all over the school, but we have a secret weapon."

"Oh, yeah? What's that?"

Blaine smiled proudly. "Well, people like you. Rachel's kind of… hard to get along with. And people vote with their heart. They'll pick the person who they think is the most approachable."

Kurt nodded absently as they walked to the choir room in their matching oxfords. He hadn't told Blaine that he was dropping out of the campaign yet. The election was today and he would have to make an announcement during the speeches. He was dreading the conversation he would have to have with boyfriend afterwards. Of course, as Kurt's enthusiastic campaign manager, Blaine would be upset. And Kurt still hadn't decided if he was going to tell the truth - that dropping out was part of his deal with Quinn - or make something up so that his boyfriend wouldn't worry.

They were holding hands when they walked into the choir room before their classes for a Scooby Gang meeting. Mr. Schuester, Puck and Quinn were gathered around the grand piano looking anxious. They all twirled around when Blaine and Kurt entered, panic etched over their faces.

"Oh, hello," said Will, testing out a nervous smile, "Good to see you. So, no need to panic."

Kurt frowned. "I'm willing to bet that poker's not your game."

"What's going on?" asked Blaine.

"W-Well," Will cleared his throat, "There's not necessarily… anything, going on. But, if there were-"

"There was a murder last night," said Quinn, her arms folded over her Nirvana tee, her pale eyebrows pulled into a worried grimace, "A student was found in the woods."

"Which student?" Kurt asked urgently.

"Jeff Orkin," said Will.

"Jeff…" Blaine frowned, "I knew him. I mean, he was in my Social Studies class."

"It looks like he was mauled," said Will, looking remorseful, "And it's possible- I mean, we'd hate to think it. But it could be the handiwork of, well… Well, it could've been Puck or-"

Blaine's stomach dropped. "Me?"

"Wolf you, not you you," Quinn frowned.

"Not any you," Puck sighed, looking heated, "Or me. We were at my place last night, in the basement. I made sure it was secure. The gate was locked and my mom would've known if one of us got out. It's not like we could have locked ourselves back in before sunrise."

"Well, is there a window in your basement?" asked Kurt.

Puck frowned. "Well, yeah, but…" he trailed off, starting to look worried, "I didn't check to make sure it was locked…"

xxx

Buffy flooded into the school gymnasium with everyone else, blown-up campaign posters hanging above the basketball hoops. She peeled her eyes for where her friends were sitting, and spotted Quinn, Tina and Blaine standing together in a huddle beside the bleachers, looking grave. She walked over to them and tapped at Blaine's shoulder to get his attention.

"Shouldn't you be helping Kurt prep for his speech?" she asked, raising her voice over the loud chattering of her senior class.

A small stage had been set up in the gym with a podium and microphone for the senior class president candidates to give their speeches. There were several portapotty-sized tents in a row at the end of the room for people to fill out their ballots afterwards.

Blaine grimaced. "He wanted to go over it alone."

"Oh…" Buffy nodded, scanning the Scoobies solemn faces, "I'm afraid to ask, but, what's going on?"

Quinn sighed. "Puck and or Blaine may have gotten out of their cage last night," she said, as hushed as she could possibly be in the crowded gym.

"Either that or there's another werewolf roaming the woods," Blaine frowned.

Tina folded her arms. "It could be something else entirely," she said.

Buffy frowned. "Okay… well, we'll work it out. Does Will know?"

"Yeah," said Tina, "He wanted me to ask you to patrol the woods tonight. I'm going to the morgue to try and figure out if it was really a werewolf kill."

"What about Puck and Blaine?" asked Buffy, glancing at the boy, "I mean… someone should be there while you guys are caged up tonight. To make sure you don't get out. Quinn?"

"I can't," Quinn said quickly, "I'm… I'm busy tonight. Uh, I have Beth."

"You can ask Kitty to do it, right?" Tina asked Buffy.

Blaine folded his arms, balling his fists, as Principal Figgins stepped up to the podium on stage and tapped the mic, making a screeching feedback sound.

"Let's find a seat," said Quinn, "It's starting."

The scoobies squeezed their way into the audience as Figgins announced the candidates and let them each give their speeches. Sugar Motta's was a minute long and she mostly talked about how if she were class president, her father would pay for flatscreens in every classroom, Macs in the computer lab and every day would be Taco Tuesday, which confused most of the students. Rachel was next. Quinn almost stopped breathing during her girlfriend's speech, which was articulate and impassioned, but ended up running double the length of the time they were allotted and Figgins had to usher the girl offstage while she rapidly yelled about Gifted programs.

Blaine tried on a nervous smile as his boyfriend stepped up to the podium. Kurt's hands were shaking. He wasn't holding the flash cards that Blaine had made for him. He adjusted the microphone and cleared his throat, looking worriedly into the crowd.

"Good afternoon," he said to the crowd, his voice unusually small.

Blaine tried to telekinetically will him to smile, like he had told him to over and over when they rehearsed this moment, but Kurt remained straight-faced.

"Um… Two great speeches by my opponents. Some really… great points," he trailed off a little, wrinkling his brow and trying to remember what he was supposed to say, "I, uh, I had some decent ideas about what I would do if I were class president. Actually, my boyfriend was the one who came up with the good ideas. I've been kind of… distracted."

Someone in the crowd called out, "Lady Pants!", followed by a lot of juvenile chuckling and Mr. Schuester hissing, "Cut it out!" somewhere in the front row. Blaine grimaced. This wasn't the speech they had practised. Why was Kurt deviating from the script?

"Anyways…" the boy sighed, staring at a spot above the audience, "Even though I think the ideas I would've brought to the table were good… I think Rachel's are better."

Blaine blanched in the crowd. From where she was sitting on the stage behind Kurt, Rachel's mouth was wide open.

"Rachel's a passionate person. And hardworking. And despite everything this school has done to her, she cares about it. She has real, unironic school spirit that I didn't even know people could really have. Her ideas are great. I wouldn't be surprised if she singlehandedly took this school to a new championship level. So, instead of promising you that I'll do a bunch of stuff that I probably never will, I'm just going to announce that I'm dropping out of the race. And I hope you vote for Rachel because… she deserves it."

Kurt stepped away from the podium to tepid, confused applause. As a baffled Principal Figgins stepped to the microphone to arrange orderly lines in front of the voting tents, Blaine squeezed his way out of the crowd and quickly walked up to the stage, where Kurt, Rachel and Sugar were standing. Rachel looked just as confused as Blaine felt. He grimaced at his boyfriend, who looked like he was mentally preparing himself for an unpleasant conversation.

"What's going on?" Blaine demanded, glancing between Kurt and Rachel as their classmates began the voting process, the gymnasium once again becoming a cacophony of gossiping students.

"Kurt, you didn't have to do that," said Rachel, taken aback, seeming both flattered and offended, "I mean, I could've won on my own. You didn't have to… hand it to me."

"Um, last time I checked, people still love Sugar and they still love Apple products," Sugar piped up, giving Rachel the evil eye, "Now excuse me. I'm going to go vote for yours truly."

Sugar skipped away off of the stage and Rachel glanced back at the boys. "I'm going to go vote, too… I'll… see you guys later."

Blaine watched her walk away. "So…. what was that?" he asked again, hands on his hips.

Kurt sighed and put a hand on his boyfriend's arm. "Can we talk about this in the hall?"

Blaine nodded, his face still crumpled in a confused frown, and followed Kurt offstage and outside the gym, where the noise from inside was muffled and the hallway was deserted.

"So? What's going on?" asked Blaine, hands still rested on the hips of his slacks.

Kurt sighed, his head bowed as he tried to muster up an explanation. "It was too much. Too much to deal with."

"What? Class president?" Blaine frowned.

Kurt nodded. "Yeah. Between school and… these dreams. It's too much to deal with right now."

Blaine sighed heavily, looking a bit more sympathetic. "Well, why didn't you say anything?"

Kurt shrugged. "You were so into it. The campaign was kind of your baby. I knew you'd be upset that I didn't go through with it."

Blaine cocked his head to the side. "You thought I'd be upset that you didn't want to be class president?"

Kurt shrugged again.

"Kurt," Blaine sighed, "You didn't have to do it if you didn't want to. I would've been fine. I'm not thrilled that you didn't even bother to tell me, though."

Kurt frowned and looked at the floor. "It's not a big deal."

"Maybe it's not a big deal to you but I have to be honest, my feelings are kind of hurt. You're supposed to share this kind of thing with me. Did you think I wouldn't support you? Do you think that I don't know what it's like to feel overwhelmed?"

"You don't," Kurt grumbled.

Blaine looked surprised. "I don't?"

"Not like I do," Kurt frowned, dark shadows under his eyes, "When I'm not sharing dreams with my family, I'm dreaming about how unhappy my mother is. And I had just gotten my powers under control when it started... If you had any idea… I can't do it all, Blaine."

"So you're not going to bother telling me anything because I wouldn't understand? Because I've never had problems that felt like too much to bear?" Blaine asked, looking offended, "I don't care that you dropped out of the race. I really don't. I mean, yeah, I wish you'd told me you didn't want to do it sooner so I wouldn't have wasted all that time on the campaign-"

"See, you do care! You act like you don't care, but you do. You care about the election and you don't show it, but you're thrilled you got the lead in West Side Story."

Blaine almost laughed. "Are you kidding me right now?"

"No, Blaine. I'm not saying you shouldn't be but you have to understand that I don't have room left in me to care about stuff like that right now. I just have a lot to deal with."

Blaine looked back at his boyfriend, stone-faced. "You know what, Kurt? I'm sorry that you're going through this, but I'm getting sick of being treated like I couldn't possibly fathom the scale of your tragic problems. In case you haven't noticed, I'm going through something, too."

Kurt sighed, still stuck between the decision of being defensive or remorseful. "I know. Just…" he ran his hand through his shiny brown hair, looking altogether too exhausted to have a fight, "Can we just go back inside and vote and talk about this later?"

Blaine frowned and looked at the thin leather watch on his wrist. "I can't. It's almost sunset."

"Oh," Kurt nodded, "Do you need a ride?"

"I'm going with Puck," said Blaine, and sighed, "I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"

Kurt nodded and almost as an afterthought, reached over and hugged his boyfriend. Blaine hugged back half-heartedly and the two parted ways. Blaine disappeared down the hall and Kurt stared after him, his stomach in knots. He wondered if telling him about his mother was the right thing to do, but couldn't help fearing that if Blaine knew what Kurt was up to, he would try to stop him. Kurt couldn't risk that. His dreams of his mom were becoming more vivid and he needed to put her unhappiness to an end. He couldn't have anything get in the way of that.

xxx

Buffy twirled a stake around in one hand after night fell, the full moon casting an ethereal glow over the woods surrounding the Lima cemetery. Something rustled in the leaves but Buffy couldn't be sure it wasn't just a rabbit. She made her footsteps more light and deliberate as she listened intently to the calm whoosh of the wind and a hoot of an owl. She kept her eyes trained on where she'd seen the rustling, when suddenly, someone ran past. They were impossibly fast - not human, Buffy deduced, as she ran after them, her stake gripped tight beside her.

She doubled back around a tall patch of oak trees, where the figure had darted through, and ran faster when the animalistic growling grew louder. The figure ran swiftly toward Buffy, moonlight bouncing on black hair. They collided with Buffy, knocking the slayer's feet out from under her. Buffy landed on the ground and looked back up to see that the figure had stopped in their tracks and was staring at her. Growling at her. Buffy blinked, a ball forming in her throat. It was a girl, staring sinisterly with maroon-colored eyes and thick, wild, black hair framing her heart-shaped face. Buffy's breath was lost. Santana.

On knees like jelly, Buffy stood, still staring, trying to make her eyes adjust to the darkness even though they already had. Trying to figure out why she was seeing what she was seeing. The girl was wearing the same thing she had been wearing when she had been sucked into Acathla's hell dimension. The same tight black dress, only now the hem was frayed, one strap was ripped and draped off of her shoulder and the color had faded into a dirty gray-brown. Her bare feet sunk into the dirt.

Before Buffy could find her bearings, Santana emitted a low growl and charged forward and knocked Buffy to the ground again. The vampire climbed on top of the slayer, raising her fists like an ape before Buffy knocked the girl off of her. Santana rolled over into the dirt but was quick to get back up, ready to fight. Buffy dodged a punch and swung hard, landing a fist in the other girl's face. Santana fell back and fidgeted on the dirt path like she wanted to get back up and continue trading blows, but she was clearly hurt, and exhausted. She laid on the ground and Buffy stood up, staring down at the girl as she shook dirt off of her clothes, her face twisted into tortured confusion. She kneeled down and brushed the black hair out of the girl's face. It was really her.

xxx

"Thanks for doing this with me. Everybody else was busy and I usually get Mike to help me with this kind of thing."

"What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn't accompany my lady friend to the morgue?"

Sam followed closely behind Tina with a flashlight app from his phone illuminating the path in front of them. They had quite easily snuck into the Lima funeral home and made their way into a room with at least a dozen rectangular metal tombs built into the wall. Sam steadied the light as Tina opened one, pulling out the tray that carried a still, lifeless body and folding down the sheet that was over it to reveal Jeff Orkin's shredded face.

Sam winced and looked away. "Oh, God."

"Keep the light steady," Tina ordered as she laid a vintage Courage the Cowardly Dog lunch-box down on Jeff's chest and opened it to reveal her bounty of medical equipment.

Sam grimaced as he pointed the light at Jeff's fingernails, which Tina was inspecting with a pair of tweezers.

"How can you stand this?" he asked, "I mean, it's pretty barf-worthy. Was it werewolves or what?"

"I can't tell yet," said Tina, "There are a lot of incised wounds. It could've been anything. I'm almost done, just let me get a few stray hairs."

Sam frowned as she collected some samples into a small ziplock bag.

"So, how is he?" Tina asked quietly, trying desperately to feign nonchalance.

"Who?" asked Sam, wrinkling his nose, keeping the dead body out of his line of sight.

"Mike. Is he… How is he? I see him in European History but he doesn't sit near me. Or look at me. He'll nod politely sometimes, but… Is he seeing anyone?"

Sam shifted uncomfortably in his red sneakers.

"Sorry," said Tina, "I don't want to put you in that position. I know you're his friend."

Sam nodded. "Thanks. And I'm your friend, too, you know. I don't want anyone to think I'm choosing sides."

"No, of course not. Really, you've been perfectly diplomatic. It's admirable."

Sam smiled politely. "Well… he's not seeing anyone. That's not a secret or anything."

Tina nodded. "Done."

"Done?" Sam perked up, "We can go?"

"We can go," Tina sighed, "I don't feel anymore knowledgeable than when I came, though."

"This doesn't look good for Puck and Blaine, does it?"

Tina grimaced. "No, it doesn't."

xxx

Quinn sat cross-legged on Kurt's bed, her spell-book on her lap. She'd had to start a new one after the scoobies destroyed hers in sophomore year, but she already knew there would be nothing in it to help with her present situation.

"Do you think there's anything on the internet?" asked Kurt.

Quinn trailed her finger over the ingredients for a theoretical spell that may have the power to contact the dead. Not exactly what she needed.

"Doubtful," she replied as an afterthought, "Everything online is hokey nonsense."

Kurt sat at his computer desk, swivelling around in his office chair. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"You can keep quiet," Quinn snapped, furrowing her eyebrows at the book before she realized what she'd said and looked up at the boy, remorseful, "Sorry. Long day. Not enough coffee."

Kurt stuck his tongue in his cheek. "Yeah, I know the feeling. At least tell me what you think so far. Like, where should we start?"

Quinn sighed heavily. "Kurt, if I knew that, I'd tell you. All I know right now is that we have to connect the part of your mother's soul that is in another universe with the part of her soul that is connected to your soul, and send it to Heaven. This isn't going to be easy. This is the most complex thing I've ever heard of and I'm ninety nine percent sure that no-one has ever even attempted to do anything like this before."

Kurt tapped his shoes against his hardwood floor. "You must think this is a little exciting, though, right?"

Quinn glared at him.

"Oh, come on. Think of it like… you're an award-winning surgeon about to embark on a procedure that has never been done before."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "This isn't Grey's Anatomy, Kurt. And if it were, I'd be a hotheaded intern who ends up killing the patient."

Kurt frowned at the lap of his denim jeans, his arched eyebrows pulling together.

Quinn once again bit her tongue. "I'm not gonna put you in any danger, though. I won't let things get that intense. I decided that if it gets too dangerous, we have to stop."

Kurt pursed his lips. "Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that because I already sabotaged myself out of this campaign for you."

Quinn grimaced. "Don't make me feel guilty about that. That was the deal. The deal that you offered. Don't make me feel bad for agreeing to it."

"I know, I know," Kurt shook his head, looking absently at a framed poster for Lady Gaga's Monster Ball above his headboard, "Blaine was just… really upset."

"Oh," Quinn frowned, "He really wanted you to win, huh?"

"No, actually. He's just upset that I'm keeping things from him."

"Why don't you tell him what's going on?"

"If he thinks that this spell could be dangerous, he'd just try to stop me."

Quinn shrugged. "Maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he would support you."

"I can't risk it, Quinn. This is really important to me. This is my mom. Besides, you know exactly what I mean. It's why you haven't told Rachel."

Quinn looked sheepishly back at the spellbook. "I guess you have a point."

Kurt took a deep breath and sat forward in his chair. "So, we can work this out, right? Figure out where to start?"

Quinn closed the spellbook in frustration and narrowed her eyes at Kurt. "What we need to do is consult someone who knows a thing or two about the limitations of witchcraft."

Kurt frowned. "Shelby won't help us."

Quinn smirked a little and took out her cellphone. "No, but her protege might."

xxx

Buffy dragged the unconscious vampire back to the only place where she was certain no-one would find her. She was unsure if the condominium in Lima's artsiest outskirt neighborhood was legally owned by Santana or if Snix had simply killed the previous residents, but the whole place was still just as they had left it months ago. Buffy took the girl inside, where the statue of Acathla was no more, but luckily there were still shackles and bolts from when Snix, Spike and Drusilla had felt particularly torture-happy.

She shackled Santana to a marble column that held up an archway between two spacious, unfurnished rooms. Santana started to stir in the empty room as moonlight flooded through the tall windows and Buffy took a few steps back as the vampire raised her unkempt head of hair. Santana noticed the slayer and immediately lunged at her, growling fiercely. Buffy jumped back, even though Santana's wrists were held in place by the shackles. She couldn't understand why the girl was back or why she was acting like an animal. Her violence wasn't of the cruel, calculated variety that Snix had displayed. It was purely visceral.

All Buffy could be sure of was that the sight of her this way was causing her a lot of pain. She walked to the window and closed the heavy black drapes, to block the sunlight that would rise in a few hours. As she walked toward them, she noticed scorch marks on the ground. The last time she'd been to this house - the only time after Santana's death - was to leave behind the claddagh ring that she had given her. The spot on the floor where she had left it looked like it had been burned black. It was the same spot where Santana had died and by the looks of the girl-shaped clean spot among the scorch marks, it was the spot where she had reappeared.

xxx

Quinn was hunched over her phone in the back of Spanish class as Mr. Schuester launched into a lecture on irregular verbs. She was sitting next to Buffy, who was similarly engrossed in a library book with a fabric over. Quinn was just glad that this was one class she didn't have with her girlfriend, who had decided to transfer to AP French with Kurt. She didn't want to have Rachel notice that Quinn was passionately texting Jesse St. James in a bid to get him to help her with the Elizabeth Project, and have to lie to her. Because of course, Kurt was right. If Blaine or Rachel knew, they would try to stop them, and they couldn't risk that. Unfortunately, Jesse seemed altogether against the idea as well.

Jesse:
You have no idea about the forces

that you're playing with, Lucy Q.

Quinn:

The spell to restore Santana's soul was a

success. Why couldn't this be, too? And

don't call me that.

Jesse:

This spell sounds much more complicated.

Quinn:

How so?

Jesse:

Essentially, it seems like it would take more

than one spell. First, you'd have to obtain the

soulpiece that's in an alternative universe. Then,

you'd have to obtain the soul piece attached to

Kurt. Then, you'd have to combine the two into

one seamless soul. The final stage, obviously,

would be to send the soul to Heaven.

Quinn:

What's so hard about that?

Jesse:

Quinn, you can't be serious. You'd have to find

a way to locate a soulpiece, and then you'd have

to figure out how to split a soulpiece from another

soul.

Quinn:

And then what?

Jesse:

Okay, I see what you're doing. I'm not helping you.

Quinn:

If you don't help me, I'm just going to do it

by myself. You know it would be a whole lot

safer if you'd just help me.

She knew she was being manipulative, but she couldn't help it. She'd learned from the best.

"Ms. Fabray?"

Quinn looked from the phone on her lap to see Mr. Schuester staring at her from where he stood next to the whiteboard.

"Can you answer this question?" he asked, his eyebrow raised as he pointed a marker at the question posed on the board.

"Um," Quinn stalled, "Ustedes… uh…"

Mr. Schue sighed. "Less texting, more paying attention, alright?" he frowned and continued with his lesson.

Quinn slid her phone into the pocket of her ripped black jeans, a little embarrassed, reminding herself that Mr. Schuester usually only reprimanded the scoobies so that their classmates wouldn't think he picked favorites. Just as he continued on with his lesson, the bulky intercom crackled in the classroom and Figgins' voice sounded.

"Good afternoon, students and faculty of McKinley High. Please excuse this interruption. All ballots for senior class president were collected and I would like to thank everyone on behalf of the student council for your participation. Your votes were carefully counted and we're glad to announce that your new senior class president is…"

Principal Figgins paused for suspense as Quinn and Buffy raised their heads, listening intently.

"...Sugar Motta."

Quinn's eyes bulged at the intercom speaker. "Sugar Motta?!" she exclaimed aloud.

"Okay, settle down," said Mr. Schuester, even though Quinn had been the only one who spoke.

"She's not even a senior," Quinn hissed at Buffy.

Buffy looked worriedly at the pink-haired girl. "Rachel's gonna flip," she said quietly, looking tired.

Quinn gritted her teeth as the bell rang and everyone gathered their things and shuffled out of the classroom. Quinn slipped away out with her classmates as Buffy slowly put her stuff away, eyes still trained on her book. Will sighed, disappointed with his waste of a class. He raised an eyebrow at Buffy, who was showing more attention to a book than he'd ever seen her give even a People magazine. He weaved through the now empty desks to get to the back of the room and put his hand down on Buffy's book to hold her attention.

Buffy looked up, surprised. "Will, sorry. Just, uh, really into this book."

"I didn't know you liked to read," Will said, impressed yet suspicious, and flipped the book closed to read the title, "'Exploring Demon Dimensions: The Mystery of Acathla'...?"

Buffy shrugged, shoving it into her backpack. "It's a Tina recommendation. What can I say? She's a freaky deaky," she smiled awkwardly.

Will cocked his head at the girl. "Buffy," he said in a tone that reminded her of her mother.

Buffy pouted and set her bag down on the ground, taking a seat at her desk. "What would you say if I told you that I had a dream about Santana?"

"I'd say that I wasn't surprised," said Will, "But it must have been quite a dream."

"Oh, why, because I'm reading an actual book?" Buffy joked.

Will smiled sympathetically. "No. Because you seem… shaken."

Buffy nodded, losing her smile. "I dreamed that she was back."

Will nodded, taking a seat at the edge of Buffy's desk. "I had dreams like that, when Emma died. I dreamed that she was still alive. That I saved her."

"But this dream was vivid. Too vivid. HD, Dolby surround sound, the hills are alive with the sound of vampires… You get it."

"Do you think it could've been a prophecy?"

Buffy looked at her desk, her eyebrows knitted. "No. I don't know. It just… makes me wonder. Could it ever happen?"

Will thought about it and answered carefully. "I've never heard of someone returning from Hell. I don't know how or why it would ever happen…"

"Okay, but, hypothetically, if Santana ever wound up back in Lima… what would happen?"

Will narrowed his eyes. "I can't say. Time moves differently in hell dimensions."

"I remember," Buffy mumbled, remembering her not-so-pleasant adventure with Jesse St. James that summer, "So, for Santana, she would've been in Hell for years, probably?"

"Probably."

"Years. Of torture," Buffy said, staring at her desk.

Will nodded, sympathy in his eyes. "It would take a lot of strength to hold on to your sanity, that's for sure," he said with a faraway look.

Buffy paled. "She'd be a lost cause by now."

"Maybe. Maybe not. In my experience, some monsters can be redeemed."

"And others?" asked Buffy, fearing the answer.

"The other kind of monster is devoid of humanity. Doesn't respond to reason. Or love."

Buffy's blood ran cold as Tina entered the room carrying a cardboard tray of powdered donuts.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, assessing the tense atmosphere as she approached the watcher and slayer, "I brought food."

"Thanks, Tina," Will smiled warmly.

"How'd the inspection go last night?" Buffy asked urgently as Will took a donut from the tray.

Tina sighed, looking solemn. "It was inconclusive. I-"

"How could it be inconclusive?! What did it look like? Was it a werewolf or… a vampire?"

"Buffy, let her finish," Will said quietly.

Buffy pursed her lips. "Sorry. Go on, Tina."

"I should know more after tonight," said Tina, "I'm doing hair and fiber tests."

"You have the equipment for that?"

"Well, I think the home science kit my dad got me for my birthday should suffice," Tina shrugged, "I'm just trying to match the fibers to werewolf hair. It should be cake."

Buffy picked at her fingernails, knowing that there was no outcome she could honestly hope for. Yeah. Cake.