In honor of Glee ending, I've decided that now is the time to post this story I've been planning and working on. I figured, I should post it now well people are still recovering from the loss of our beloved show. I might become busy (especially because of all my classes) but reviews motivate me.

I've been excited to write and post this for a really long time so I really do hope you enjoy this story as much as I do.

The Elevator

Santana P.O.V

I let out a satisfied, albeit vexed, sigh as I finally finished unpacking my side of the dorm room. It had taken 6 hours of my life, not that I'm exactly strapped for time. In theory, I have all of eternity so I've got plenty of time between now and then. Still, I'd much rather be having sex or something instead of fulfilling of the tedious task of unpacking.

At least it looks nice, I think with a shrug. My side of the room is set up with a nice dark, classy look. My bed is made up with dark navy, silk sheets that cost me a goddamn fortune. My wall is filled with posters of one or two of the greats as well a few odds and ends I've collected over the years. I've got a picture of Vivienne and I up as well as some of my favorite places around the world, but a lot of my treasured memories are housed in various sketchbooks that I've had to draw. Those drawings are the only memory I have of people and places I've met and been before cameras were invented. That makes me feel so old.

"Viv, how's it looking?" I call out, as I turn around to venture to her side of the room.

"I thought I told you to start calling me Brittany, even in private! I am no longer Vivienne. I am only Brittany Susan Pierce!" I roll my eyes at her ridiculous antics. Technically, her original name is Vivienne Sadler, but every decade, maybe a little more, the two of us have to change our names and locations or else people would become suspicious of why we haven't aged… and maybe why there's one too many of the occasional human wandering into the hospital suffering from blood loss. Each time we do this Vivienne insists on fully immersing herself in her 'new identity.' I should be used to it after all these years, but it's still unnerving for the first couple of days.

"Yeah, whatever you say Britts." I respond with a roll of my eyes as I plop down in the pink, cushy beanbag she has set up next to the head of her bed. As I observe her side of the room I notice how some things never change. She's still using the same cotton candy sheets as she has the last thirty years and has that damned unicorn, Mr. Snuggles, sitting by her window. She says that he is 'good luck' and will protect her from harm. I laugh to myself. As if something named 'Mr. Snuggles' could viciously protect her from a territorial canis mutante or veneficus who doesn't appreciate a lamia encroaching upon his or her space.

Not for the first time, I laugh at the words 'lamia, canis mutante, and veneficus' inside my head. Only the Maleficiī, the supernatural community, are so pretentious. They refuse to use the words vampire, werewolf, and warlock. Everything must have an extravagant name.

"Remind me, why are we doing this whole college dorm thing again? I've been alive for 706 years and in that time I've amassed a small fortune. We could've easily bought a comfier and more spacious loft not five minutes away from campus," I point out.

"You promised me the true college experience," Brittany pouted. "Girls have only been able to go to school for like, 100 years. We shouldn't take that lightly." Brittany's activist-y nature will never fade away. I'm surprised she didn't go into an activist career like she did under our last identity.

"Brittany, girls have been going to college since mid-1700's," I respond, still annoyed that I have to spend the next year in this cooped, crammed room that is the size of my bathroom at my real house.

"Whatever, you promised me the college experience!" she shrugs off, jumping up with a squeal of joy as she looked around the room. "This is so exciting, Sanny!"

"This place isn't even safe Brittany and we're unable to put up the proper protection from other Maleficiī I continue to argue.

"Mr. Snuggles will protect us!" she replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. I sigh for what must be the third time in three minutes. I love that girl as if she was my sister but sometimes I wonder about her. It's not that she's dumb. She got into Yale on a full mathematics scholarship so she's very smart (I did have to do some mind-tampering to get her that interview since we weren't exactly graduating from high school at that point). She's just very naïve and innocent.

"I can hear you sighing!" She twirls around away from the window to look over at me. "I may not be able to read minds like you, but I know what that sigh means! I believe that Mr. Snuggles will protect us. And if they somehow get past him I have you, my big bad vampire, to beat them up!"

"Exactly," I respond. "I can read minds and do a lot of other shit that no other vamps can, which makes me target number one by almost every Maleficiī out there!"

"Maybe I should just get rid of everything that's not necessary," Brittany said, pretending to ignore me. "Like this extra dresser. It'll give me more room to dance and practice." She observed the offending object thoughtfully.

"You can't ignore my perfectly valid concerns, Brittany," I call out from the overly squishy beanbag.

"I can and I will because they're not valid and I'm not afraid of anybody else. You'll kick their asses because you're superior and amazing and won't let anything happen to me. Hey, do you have any room on your side for… something like an extra dresser?"

"No," I deadpan. "Anyways, they have a dance studio a block away from our dorm that you'll be using, not this tiny dorm room."

"Of course! You're so smart, Michaela – I mean, Santana," she says with a wink. Michaela was the name I had used in my last identity.

At the time I'd been living in Washington D.C, majoring in history. My name had been Michaela Turnique at the time and I was a historian specializing in the 1700's, something I was very good at considering I had actually been alive during that time. Brittany had been Janie Delaney; she had liked the way it rhymed. She was an animal rights activist.

"So much for fully immersing into out new identities," I respond snidely at her slip up with my name.

"Oh hush!" Brittany says, slapping the air with her hand as if I was right next to her to hit and not three feet away. "Y'know, I think I left a box down in the car. Can you grab it for me?"

"Why don't you get it? I am very comfortable sitting in your beanbag," I say, purposely sinking down further to prove a point.

"Because you're an awesome person and you're done unpacking whereas I, your most beloved friend who you love dearly and would do anything for, still have another box up here to unpack."

"Fuck you for being right," I reply.

"Language!"

"You severely over packed," I comment as I rise from the cushion, enticing me to fall back into it. Her room is stuffed with clothes coming out of the drawers, pictures, posters, and photos filling up the wall so much I can't actually see the wall anymore, and a thousand and one unnecessary knick-knacks and 'sentimental items.'

"See, I would know the exact right amount to pack if you'd do the whole 'college experience' with me more often," she quipped.

"You could go for more of a minimalist feel."

"Says the girl with the 1,000 dollar sheets."

"Touché," I reply, impressed. "I'll grab your last box from the car."

**Blood**

The moment I stepped outside that door all five of my senses were immediately bombarded with a thousand reactions.

The college had maybe 50 or so buildings dedicated to student living. A majority of them were set up as dorm rooms. The elevators from the main floor brought you up and spit you out into the common room of whatever floor you had landed on. The common rooms were fairly simply, some couches and tables with a small kitchen and TV. Then, to the left of that common room was a long hallway that led to maybe 20 dorms housing two people each and to the right was another long hallway with 20 dorms housing two people each. Brittany and I were set up on the left side on the seventh floor of the ES Harkness Building.

Mathematically speaking, maybe half of them were setting up their dorm rooms right now and the other 20 kids were out in the hallway, carrying their stuff in or rolling in carts that took up the entire hallway and couldn't get past their dorm door because the cart was so large. In essence, moving day was a mad house.

The hallway was so clogged up with people and people's shit I could barely see; hell I'm surprised I even made it outside of my door. At any given moment there was at least one person and one object brushing up against my arm or my leg, barely squeezing by to reach their dorm room.

The absolute worst part though, was all the sounds I was hearing. I could hear all 20 of their heartbeats pulsing, racing in their chests. Some were slower than the average, probably high as fuck, and others were about to beat out of their chest. In a mess of people this big I bet at least one of them an O Blood type, the most rare, which automatically makes them even more delectable. Just the thought of anybody's blood hitting my taste buds makes me lick my lips.

Thankfully, over the years I've built up a ridiculous amount of self-control. One of these humans could be bleeding out on the floor and I'd still be able to contain myself. Admittedly, it isn't all just my amazing self-discipline stopping me from sucking them all dry. Some of it has to do with the genes.

I'm what people like Brittany, who deal with numbers, possibilities, and statistics, refer to as an outlier. Most lamia have the classic strength, speed, healing ability, seduction, and mind control. I have a few more tricks up my sleeve.

My mother was Mens from Ancient Greek Mythology, goddess of the mind. Some 700+ years ago she fell in love with a lamia in Africa and fell pregnant with me. There is only one other lamia in history that was born and not turned: The very first.

Being the daughter of the mind goddess I got a few extra gifts. All of my given abilities as a lamia have been heightened including things like my restraint from drinking blood. However, I also possess telekinesis, telepathy, and enhanced mind control. Because of the way I was born as well as these powers a lot of the Maleficiī, believes that I have too much power and will unite the entire Maleficiī underneath my leadership. Also known as, they think I'll be the Hitler of the Maleficiī. Right now, the entire community is separated and a lot of people think that I'll change that.

For clan leaders and those who want to stay independent, this makes me public enemy number one.

Thank God for people like Brittany who believe in me and don't want to kill me, even if she does make me go get her shit that's like 2 blocks away in the already crowded parking lot.

At least the cold doesn't bother me, I muse as I make my way towards the lot. It takes me maybe ten minutes to make it to the lot and to the car that was piled so high with shit we couldn't actually see out the back window, making it a little more dangerous driving here.

I click the open button on the keys and the car chirps to life, opening up the trunk automatically. I roll my eyes and chuckle as soon as I see the contents of the overflowing box: stuffed animals. Of course Brittany brought stuffed animals.

I grab the relatively small box and tuck in underneath one arm, closing the trunk and locking the car with my other hand, and head back towards my dorm.

**Life**

I've always wanted to ride in that elevator from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, the glass one that moves unbelievably fast and goes every which way imaginable. The elevators we have now are boring. They're too slow and they only go up. They only trap you in a steel box until you reach your location. I'd love to be in a glass elevator, see a view from above, and stare out at everybody below you. They have them in malls sometimes, but it's not the same.

Imagine travelling the empire state building from a glass elevator, watching everybody become progressively smaller as you travel higher and higher. In that moment you feel like God, rising above the rest. Yet your humanity is revealed to you only at such an extreme as you see how small everyone is you realize just how small you are. You become a living paradox of realization, both aware of your Godly status and human vulnerability. Maybe people would understand how I feel all the time if they rode in glass elevators more often.

"Hold the doors please!" The moment I hear that voice I knew. I can feel my heartbeat race and my knees begin to weaken. It is the perfect mix between seductive and sweet. My imagination runs rampant just at the sound of her heavenly voice. If she asks me to I will run so fast I'd turn back time, be her own personal Superman. Unwillingly, my canines come flashing out. Or if she demands, in a low, sweet tone, I'd let her dominate me, take me, without a fight.

For all the self-control I have, and I have that of three lamiae, I have none around her. She's my own personal kryptonite. I want to let those doors shut. I never want to know who she is or what she looks like because I know that the moment I see her there's no turning back. Still, my arm shoots out almost instinctively and stops the doors moments before they close.

"Thanks!" she comments right as she strolls into the elevator. I only catch a flash of her short, blonde hair as she steps onto the elevator; her face is hidden behind a stack of books and boxes.

"What floor?" I manage to muster up.

"7."

"Oh, same."

She stands a few feet away from me, facing towards the steel doors. I can see a little more of her face. She has fair skin that looks like it never went through those awful teenage years. There's a natural rosy blush to her cheeks that couldn't be faked with any amount of make-up. I've never understood the appeal of cheekbones, but hers… they're perfect. They're not overly defined, but I still have the urge to take my finger and just run over them.

"Granted this is a big campus, but I've never seen you before. Are you new?" she asks curiously. Her head bows towards me, causing a stray strand of hair to fall in front of her face. She glares at it for a moment, unable to move it with her hands full.

Without another thought, I cross to her side of the elevator and move the hair out of her face. Her hair smells faintly of strawberries and as my fingers disconnect, there's the faint smell of vanilla and lavender on them.

She looks even more beautiful up close. "Thanks," she says. I observe the bags under her eyes that she's trying to hide with concealer. It's a shame. The make-up is only hindering her natural beauty, not enhancing it.

I rush back to my side of the elevator before I do something stupid – well, more stupid than I've already been – and reply. "You're welcome."

She clears her throat, "So, you never answered my question."

"What?" I ask distractedly, eyes following the pumping vein on her neck.

"Are you new?" My eyes flash back up to her.

"Yeah. This is my first year."

"Cool! I'm Quinn. What's your name?" Quinn. My tongue rolls over the name, eager and desperate to say it.

"Santana."

"I'm a sophomore. I'd shake your hand, but I have none free," she says with a laugh that makes my heart beat a little bit faster. I nod noncommittally. I want to keep her talking until the end of time, but I know that the more we talk the more attached I'll get and I can't do that. I made a promise 95 years ago that I'd leave her alone and let her live out her life without my interference. I intend to keep it.

"This place is great," she continues on. I wish she'd stop. Each time she talks I just want to drop my boxes, throw her up against the elevator, and bite down on her tender neck, fingers tracing over the slick, wetness that would soon appear. "It's rigorous but it's the best education on the East Coast and you'll make friends of a lifetime here." Get your mind out of the cloaca maxima, Santana! My eyes flit towards the elevator counting up the numbers until we hit floor 7. It seems to take forever. "Are you nervous?"

I shrug my shoulders ambiguously.

"You're not very talkative are you?" she says with this damn smile that makes me want to worship and ravage her.

I don't respond, only flicking my eyes to the door that should be opening any second.

As soon as they do, I'm rushing out of them like the girl has the Black Plague. "It was nice meeting you!" she calls out.

'It was torture meeting you,' I reply in my head. 'A beautiful, sweet torture that I'd suffer a thousand eternities for.'

I'm almost out of hearing distance when I hear a small thud and a squeal that is distinctly Quinn's. I try to keep walking, but everything in my body is telling me I have to go back. I need to help her. It's in my blood.

When I get back I witness her kneeled down, her cute little sundress touching the floor, trying to grab some of the belongings she dropped. I bend down and grab them for her.

She flashes me a relieved smile. "Thanks. Move in day is always pandemonium." In that moment I swear there isn't a sexier word than pandemonium. "Trying to carry as much as possible as quickly as possible, it doesn't always work. Do you think you could help me out and carry those books to my room with me?"

"I'm busy," I snap back disparagingly. I don't want to be around you for too long.

For a moment she looks stunned. "Wow, you didn't have to be so damn rude." She scoffs in disgust; turning her body away from me, foot ticking angrily.

I suddenly feel an uncomfortable guilt wash over me. Just because I promised I wouldn't get close to her doesn't mean I have to be a complete jerk, right? I don't need to actually be Edward Cullen. I pretend that's my justification, but really I just think that to mollify my mind. I just can't bear to leave her yet.

"You know what… I'm sorry I'm being really bitchy," I apologize. She glares harshly at me. I can already hear her ranting in her head, "All I've been is nice and you're just being completely rude with provocation." Obviously I don't let her see, but a small smirk slips out. That's my girl. Take no shit.

To show I really mean what I'm saying, I grab a box from her arms and tuck it under my right arm, carrying Brittany's stuffed animals in the other hand. She raises a surprised and skeptical eyebrow. "Which room are you?"

"Clearly you didn't want to grab them, don't feel obligated," she says harshly. She makes a vague motion to take her box back, but she's already dying under the weight of two other heavy looking boxes.

"No I do. I just… am nervous about starting over and stuff and I took it out on you." She raises a curious but far more lenient eyebrow. I can see her muscles loosen from their tense and aggressive position. "I'm sorry for being such a bitch."

"Yeah, you were being a bitch."

I bow my head in apology. "I have been since the day I was born. I'm trying to fix that though. One box at a time." I flash her my most charming, irresistible smile. My head tells me to stop, don't be nice or charming. But my heart tells me otherwise.

She lets out a small laugh and I can tell all is forgiven. "I was a little like that back in high school. Maybe I can help you fix that problem." She motions to the box. "Room nine."

"Lead the way." As we move through the overly crowded hallways I watch her as she walks – glides – through effortlessly. And the way she sways her hips… I can feel my mouth going dry already.

"Here we are!" She somehow manages to fish her key from the chain around her neck and open the door. Immediately, it smells like the same vanilla and lavender of her skin. "You can put the box down anywhere." I cautiously put it down on the floor next to the other eight unpacked boxes. Out of the corner of my eyes, I catch a look at what must be her panty box.

"I really appreciate you doing this for me," she says, putting her own boxes down and turning to face me. "I'm sorry it's such a mess. I figured I'd get all the boxes in before I started unpacking."

"Do you need help?" I blurt out. Fuck. I didn't mean to do that. I immediately berate my stupid ass vocal chords and lamia hormones.

"No it's okay," she replies. "You've fulfilled today's requirement," she says jokingly. "Anyways, you have that box of… stuffed animals to return." She eyes me as if she just found out a dirty little secret of mine, bringing stuffed animals to college. She chuckles just enough for me to hear.

"They're my roommates," I try to explain. "Anyways… uh, it was really nice meeting you, although I'm sure you can't say the same to me," I reply playfully.

"You're not so bad. I mean, you are the only person to help me at all today." Why? She's a fucking goddess. I don't know why people aren't lined up down the block offering to carry her boxes for her.

"Oh. Um… well, I've got to go and stuff." Smooth Santana.

"It was cool meeting you. I hope I see you around," Quinn replies before I leave.

"Yeah… Most definitely."

**Love**

"San? Do you have my stuffed animals?" Brittany calls out from the box she's unpacking into her dresser. I walk over to her side of the room and place the box down by her feet.

I slowly make my way back to her bad, falling down as if all the energy in my body has been sucked from me. "Britt?"

Immediately Brittany's head turns towards me and she stops what she's doing. "I know that voice. What happened?"

"I… met her," I can feel the tears threatening to fall.

"You… met your mate?"

"Yeah."

Brittany hesitates before responding. "What's her name?"

"Quinn," I whimper out hoarsely. I moan out of agony and love. Even her name excites me. If I could only say one word for the rest of my life it's be her name.

"That's a beautiful name," she responds.

I can feel myself collapse onto Brittany, "I know." Her presence and arms are the only thing holding me together right now.

Every lamia has a mate. Fact. As a lamia, you already come with great power, but your full powers can never be unlocked until you meet and bond with your mate, tying your souls together in a bonding ritual for eternity.

Unfortunately for me, people fear my full power. So as soon as they found out about my existence a curse was put upon me. My soul mate and I would be separated for all of eternity, therefore preventing me from ever reaching my full power and 'taking over the Maleficiī.' They tried to make it so that my mate would die before we could ever meet, fall in love, and bond. Unfortunately, I was already was too powerful, as was my bond with the mate I had yet to meet, and they couldn't fully kill her.

Instead, every time we met, my love would somehow die and would be reincarnated. Some amount of years later, because the reincarnation process takes awhile, we'd meet again and fall in love all over again, just to have her ripped away from me. I'll be cursed into this life until I die, my mate lives out their life to a natural end, or we complete the bonding ritual. I've tried over and over again, but somehow she always ends up dead and I end up alone.

Our lives were on a constant cycle of blood, life, and love.

"Are you going to try and bond with her?"

"No," I respond immediately. "I can't. I made a promise."

"That was another life."

"I promised her. I promised I'd leave her alone this time," I say, tears beginning to fall.

The last time the two of us met and fell in love she died. On her deathbed, she told me that I had to stop pursuing her. The two of us needed to be put out of our misery. She made me promise to leave her alone the next time we met…