Author's Note: Alas. It is unlikely I will continue to update this story. Enjoy what I have.
Every night, I would find a person. Normally I didn't eat like that. Normally I starved myself for as long as I could go. Even though it thrilled me, the whole process, even though it shouldn't. I'd catch someone's eye or walk up to them on the street and before they knew it, they were walking somewhere with me. Somewhere quiet. The last place they'd ever be. Usually I tried to make sure it was somewhere nice, with a good view of something, whether it was the stars or a gazebo or a field. I wasn't sure what dying was like for them, because I guess I'd never done it for real. And I didn't remember it at all anyway. But I tried to make it nice for them.
I knew I was killing them though, so up till then I had tried not to do it too often. Now, though, I realized what needing Santana meant. It meant I also needed to learn how to stop. Not just a one time thing, but always, whenever I wanted to. So every night I would find a person. And after a while, most of the time, I stopped.
When I did it seven nights in a row, I went back to Santana.
"Hi."
"Where have you been?"
She opened the window, but I could tell she was mad at me. It sat in her chest and made her breathing sound just a little bit different. It used to be that Santana's anger would make me want to hide. But now I felt myself responding to it, like I wanted to show her that she was wrong.
"I had to take care of some things, Santana. They were important."
"You can't do that. You don't even have a fucking cell phone!" That was true. "You fucking died once, and then you come back, and you say you're with me still, and then you kiss me, and then you fucking disappear. I can't...I can't..." She crossed her arms and her tiny little shoulders shook. I sensed all that tension start to soften when she said the last thing, "I can't not be with you.'
Before, hearing that would probably be enough for my anger to dissipate. But it just wound me tighter, because, "This isn't high school, Santana. It's...bigger than that."
She sputtered, "No, you're not listening. You're going to keep being dead forever and doing your dead things and I'm just supposed to sit here for whenever you have time for me? Bullshit. That's bullshit. I want you here with me."
I laughed. "Oh, Santana. That's what I was doing. Learning how to be with you."
I needed her to understand. How dangerous it would have been for me to just be with her without having practiced first. To even stand near her.
"Come here, Santana." She kept her arms crossed and stayed where she was. "Come here," I said. It would've sounded like a hiss, except I think hisses require air. My voice didn't sound like that anymore.
She unfolded her arms and walked to me, where I stood on that stupid ladder. She put her arms down on the sill and leaned her head out of the window. From where our heads were positioned, it almost seemed like she was the one who was just a little taller than me.
"Do you remember kissing me, Santana?" As soon as I said it, I was rewarded. A little wave rolled off of her body.
"Of course. It's great. I'm an awesome kisser." She stared into my eyes levelly as she said it.
I shook my head. "No. Do you remember kissing me?" I meant me, now. Because everyone who had said so was right. And wrong. I was still me. But I was also not me. And I meant, did Santana remember kissing the new me. The dead me. The one who she belonged to.
Her eyes flickered. I think she understood, because she said "Yes" quietly, with all the bragging gone from her voice.
"Do you know what I had been doing before I saw you?" She shook her head. "Killing people. I'd been killing people."
"Yeah," she breathed. "To live." Her voice sounded shaky, so she repeated it. "To live."
"No. Not to live. I don't do that anymore."
I put my cold hands on top of her hands, where they stuck out of the window. "I need you to understand, baby. I need you to understand how - how dangerous I am." I brushed my lips against hers because I thought that maybe after I said this next thing she wouldn't want to kiss me for a while. When I pulled back from it her eyes had to refocus on me.
"Santana. When you think about it. Can you guess what happened to Rachel Berry?" There was a second of shocked silence. Then. She got it. She looked horrified. She tried to pull her hands away from under mine, but I was stronger, so I held them there. "You need to know. When I disappear, it's to keep you safe."
There was a whole lot of feeling happening at that point, so I think I kind of get what happened. Santana was just feeling so many things, so she leaned forward again and kissed me, hard. This time, she was the one who bit me on my lips, and I liked it. I did. The little nip of pain sent a little shock all the way down to my spine. Then she pulled her body back into her room, and I couldn't follow. That invisible barrier blocked me from following her mouth, even though I desperately wanted to.
She took two steps back and held her hand over her mouth and breathed heavily into it, like it was a paper bag, like she was gonna calm down by doing that. It took me a second to get it, but when I did I started laughing.
"Oh, baby. Baby. You like it, don't you?" Her eyes darted to the side, and she kept her hand over her mouth, so I couldn't see her mouth react. "I won't tell. Santana Lopez is a little bit twisted. Don't worry." I felt giddy with the knowledge of it. Santana liked danger. Santana liked me. I felt a little bit crazy. Like, how could I die and come back and still, still, Santana and I fit together? I mean, sure, I was different, but I still fit into her like a puzzle piece. Puzzle pieces have more than one side, you know.
I couldn't stop giggling. "I like it too. I've been trying to avoid saying so, but I like it too. People are so good, Santana. But you're the best. You are."
I knew I could push it. While she was confused. "I think...you should invite me in." She still had her hand pressed to her mouth. Her heart was hammering. Her other hand was pressed to her leg. That leg was shaking. It was so full of life, it was shaking.
"Invite me in." I picked up my hands and slammed them against the invisible window. It didn't make a sound but it sure looked pretty weird. "Invite me in, Santana."
Her hand was still over her mouth, muffling the sound, like she didn't want to say it, but couldn't stop herself. "Come in, Brittany."
If you were a human, and you were watching, it would have taken you one blink to have seen me move from outside the window to pushing Santana against the opposite wall.
See, on the one hand, it was an invitation to come in. But on the other hand, it was an invitation to do other things. I knew it was, because I could hear and smell and see everything Santana wanted but couldn't say out loud. It had always been like that for us. Whether she was 15 and drunk and horny or not, I knew, "come in" always meant "take everything" when it came to Santana.
I liked the way Santana was trapped between me and the wall. I think she liked it too. She'd made one little noise when I put her against the wall, but her hand was still clamped over her mouth. Down the hall, I heard her parents rustle and turn.
"Keep your hand there. Don't make a sound."
She just stared at me, her eyes super wide.
I could go so slow. She wouldn't stop me. I knew she wouldn't. I could smell that she wouldn't.
I circled my fingers around her wrist and pulled her arm up over her head. I put my other hand on her hip and kept applying enough pressure to let her know that she wasn't going anywhere. She broke eye contact with me by turning her head to the side. When she did that, the muscles and tendons and skin in her neck all shifted. To me, it was like an orchestra tuning before a symphony.
I groaned. It was funny, the sound slipping out. It seemed so life-like. I kept pressing her to the wall with my hands. Her eyes flicked to mine once.
"Do you know what that does to me?" My voice sounded so hoarse. "It's like you're presenting yourself to me. Like you - " I licked my lips. "Like you want me to." She whimpered. What a pretty sound. But she didn't say she didn't want me to. I could hear her trying to control her breathing with her hand. Trying not to pant.
I wanted to unwind her. I wanted to make her lose control. I mean, really, I wanted to lose control, but since I couldn't I wanted to make her do it instead.
I bent my head towards her neck. You know, it's funny, all the things that usually mean "I want to have sex with you" were not things I did anymore. I couldn't breath air on her neck. She couldn't feel my body get hot. Instead, something new happened. I felt my teeth sharpen. I don't think I'd ever paid attention to it before.
I did everything slow, but strong. Slow enough that Santana could put her hand out if she wanted to stop me. Strong enough that if she did, I wouldn't have let her stop me. I don't know if I would have stopped. I wanted her so bad. I lowered my head the last inch to her skin and kissed her neck. I hadn't stayed here, since dying. I'd always just ripped apart at the skin, getting to the color underneath. It was so close. I could feel her veins rush with each pump of blood. I could almost taste the change in her, the chemistry of her body fighting between being really, really turned on, and really, really scared. It made me feel things.
I slid my leg between her legs, so she was resting against my thigh. Everywhere I touched her, there was another sign that I was right, that even if she wasn't saying "yes" or anything, her body was screaming for it. Her pulse was hammering between her legs, and she was so hot. I could feel it. It was almost enough to shock my heart into beating. As soon as we made contact, she rocked forward into my leg. I tensed the muscles there for her, so she could keep going. A little "mmph" fell out from behind her hand. She twisted her eyes shut, so she didn't have to look.
I made up my mind right then, that this would be the last fucking time Santana got away with not looking because she was too afraid of how I made her feel.
"Do it." Her eyes went open again. Without turning her head, she made eye contact with me. So wide-eyed. So pretty. "Do it, Santana. I know you want to." She shook her head. It was such a slight movement. Maybe if I wasn't a vampire I wouldn't have noticed it.
"Don't deny it." While I talked to her, I moved my mouth around her body, to the places where the blood was closest to the skin. Her wrist. Her neck. Behind her ear. The space right under her collarbone. I skimmed my lips over the skin, and let her body pulse under my mouth. "God, Santana. Remember how I told you what it's like for me now? I can smell how wet you are. Your heart is hammering. Do it. Get yourself off. I want to see it." I let go of the arm above her head. She brought it to my shoulder and for one moment, I thought she might push me away. I think she thought she might too.
I held her into place with my hips while I lifted her shirt up. I didn't care about taking it off all the way, I didn't need to. I brought my hand up, over her stomach, till it rested on her breast. Oh, good. Oh, mine. I brushed my thumb over her nipple. I missed it, touching her.
"I'll tell you about it, Santana. Do you want to hear about being a vampire? I'll tell you about it. Just get off. Ride me." I looked down at the space where her legs gripped around my thigh, where our bodies met. "I want to watch." She didn't move.
I pinched her nipple, hard, too hard to feel very nice, probably. "I want to watch." I said it again. But it made her listen and she started rocking against me. Her breath puffed out around her hand.
"It was the first thing I did. I woke up, and I got out of the ground. It should've been scary, but it wasn't. I felt so good. I almost touched myself, that's how good it felt." She pushed harder against me. I think she liked hearing about that. But that wasn't what this story was about.
"I found her. I found Rachel. She was walking on the street. She thought I was alive. She didn't know what I was. But I didn't know what I was either." Santana's eyes looked so wide.
"I held her. I was so strong, she couldn't go anywhere. Just like you can't go anywhere now. Not that you want to." She clenched the fingers of the hand on my shoulder. To remind herself that it was an option, I guess. To fight me away.
"I bit her. It felt so good, Santana. You remember that, don't you? I bet I could bite you harder, take more, you'd feel so good. So good, all mine."
Her hand fell off her mouth and went to my other shoulder. She was still grinding against my leg. I guess maybe I could've been upset that she didn't listen, took her hand away even though I had told her not to. But with both of her hands trying to grip my shirt, I think I understood what she was saying:
Closer.
I pulled my leg out from between hers, and pulled off her pajama pants. They slid down her legs. God, she looked good. Her shirt was pushed up and she wasn't wearing any pants and her hair was wild, wild. I loved it. I picked her up, cupped her by her butt and did it. I took her.
Being inside Santana had always been special. She always got so wet for me and I liked watching her eyes roll and her head tilt back, and I liked the sound she made when I did it. But this was my first time inside Santana since dying and it felt so crazy good. She was so tight around my two fingers and she was so slippery. I pulled out and added another. That was three fingers. Santana's legs gripped around my body and she gripped around my fingers. I could feel every little change inside of her. My skin was so sensitive, I could feel everything. I felt her muscles pulsing and I felt her blood pulsing.
My fingers found that spot, the one inside her that always made her knees shake and this time was no different. Santana was trying to keep quiet but she was panting so hard and every time I pushed inside her and crooked my fingers, she whimpered as she tried to keep all the sounds in.
I liked those sounds, I wanted more, I wanted all of her, I wanted to take her against the wall, and then put her on the bed and hold her down, and I wanted to fuck her so hard and then bite her, and I wanted her, I wanted her, she was mine, mine, mine.
I bit her, at the spot where her skin started to pull away from her ribcage, at the top of her breast. Where it was soft enough to give way and firm enough to feel like I was sinking into her. And what I thought was true turned out to be really true, that I could feel what the person I was biting felt too because Santana reached down from my shoulder while I held her against the wall and she circled her clit hard and gasped and came and so did I. So did I. My whole body seized up while I groaned around the spot on her breast that I had brought my teeth down on, but even through it I had the presence of mind to take what came out of her there.
Santana shook and shook and her legs were trying to open and close at the same time, that's how tense they were, while she rode it out against my hand. So wet. She was so wet. I knew she liked it because of that.
I took my hand out of her and she shuddered but I kept drinking. We both kind of fell to the ground but I kept drinking. Couldn't stop, I couldn't stop, she was too good, she was made for me. She didn't want me to stop either. Her breaths were still big and heavy and she kept clutching me to her and I kept drinking.
Out of the corner of my hearing, I heard her mom on the other end of the house wake up. "Did you hear something?"
Oh God. Oh God.
But at least it made me stop.
I pulled away. Santana's eyes closed. I didn't think I'd taken too much. She just needed to recover. But I could hear her mom and dad talking and I had to think fast.
You know, I'm not stupid but I'm not really smart either. I don't know why I make the decisions I make. So even now I don't know why I did what I did. Well, I sort of do. I mean, if you saw Santana on the ground, mostly naked, looking fucked and pale and sweaty and weak, and blood from a bitemark you made trickling down her breast, you might think what I did, which was "Mine." and decide, then, that you couldn't leave her, that you needed her with you. She just looked so dazed, and after I had taken her and bit her, I couldn't just leave her.
But maybe I just thought that to make myself seem nice. Maybe I really wanted her with me so that I could do it again. After all, there was more blood in her, and the Feeling inside of me wanted it all. It was best when I took it all.
So I don't know why I did it. But I did. I started moving vampire fast, to get out of there before her parents woke up all the way and decided to come check on her. Before they could see Santana looking a way that parents shouldn't see their kids look.
I packed her a duffle, just like my duffle. I knew which clothes were her favorite. But I packed more jackets, because she was alive and it was still cold out.
I pulled her shirt down. I made her stand up. She was so dizzy. She didn't have much blood in her. I could hear her heart beat. It sounded as confused as she was. She held onto my neck while I put her pajama pants back on. I sat her on the bed and put on socks and then shoes.
"What's happening?" she asked.
"Shhh," I said.
I found a sweatshirt and put it on over her head. When she was ready, I looped my arms through the duffle, so I was wearing it like a backpack. Then I picked Santana up, nice and sweet. I looked down at her face. She was so beautiful. Her eyes looked funny, like they couldn't focus on me. She looped her arms around my neck without any real strength and snuggled her face into my chest. I couldn't help but smile.
From down the hall, I heard her mother say, "Maybe we should just go check. After what happened to those other girls..."
It was time to go. I went to the window. I looked down. It was a long jump. Could I do it safely while holding Santana? Probably. I looked to the door of Santana's room. Was there any chance of getting out the front door, now that I could hear her mom starting to sit up and slide her feet into her slippers? Probably not.
This was going to be very dramatic. Usually I didn't like to be that dramatic, but well. Maybe now I carried a little piece of Rachel Berry inside of me. Yuck, I hoped not.
I kicked the ladder away from the house. It tilted backwards slowly, slowly, then fell with a great crash. As soon as that happened, the noises from Santana's parents got a lot louder. They were coming. I went to the window, with her duffle on my back and Santana in my arms, and sat on the ledge. As I leaped, Santana's door opened.
If I were human, the jump would've hurt, but I wasn't. As my feet hit the ground, I heard her mother start shouting.
"No! NO! Come back! Bring her back!" Her dad's feet started pounding down the stairs inside the house. But there was no way he would catch me. I heard her mother break into sobs. "Not her, not her..." Her dad yelled, wordlessly, angrily, sadly.
I ran. I wanted to leave those voices behind us. It was just like Santana had said at the Lima Bean. We were going to have had to leave eventually. Now we were gone sooner. As I ran, Santana's head turned toward the sound of her mom's voice. But I don't think she was with it enough to know what was going on, because she just turned her head deeper into me and let herself drift while I took us back home.