Title: Just A Girl
Author: Race122VE (Coll)
Pairing: Santana/Brittany
Rating: R (mostly language, then violence and some semi sexiness as the fic goes on)
Summary: "But…you're just a girl." Glee AU fic.
Word Count: A little over 4K this part.
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Author's Note: This is the beginning of an AU universe I've created. I'm going to include some things that happened in S1 of Glee, but basically I'm just taking the characters and putting them in my own world. More details and notes in future chapters, I don't want to ruin anything right now. As always, thanks for reading and letting me know what you think.
Also, a huge thanks goes to Mel. She's my first Beta and she's amazing and deals with my crazy and loves it (and I love her back)

Prologue

It's dark, quiet, and cold.

Really fucking cold.

It's the beginning of September, for crying out loud, it should not be this cold, and yet her breath puffs out in front of her in small clouds. Her teeth can't help but chatter and her hands begin to shake. The objective for tonight is supposed to be stealth. Her body's reaction to the cold: not stealthy. This, ultimately, is not good because she is hunting something, or being hunted. She's not still sure how this whole thing works, and she wasn't given any time to figure it out.

So, here she is. Walking down a dark alley in her Cheerio's uniform, freezing her ass off and waiting for something to happen.

Something in her mind causes her to stop and, she can't explain it, but her body goes on autopilot. Her head tilts to the left, just slightly, and she hears it. A footstep. It's faint, too light, but her hands ball into fists and she whirls around to face…

Nothing.

Her body relaxes, allowing her to move again. She walks forward, slowly, and tries to remember the quick rundown of what she should be doing: Staying quiet, staying alert, and trusting her instincts above anything else.

To her, the last part is the stupidest thing she's ever heard. If she were to trust her instincts, right now, then she'd be hauling ass back to her house.

The other end of the alley is approaching, the warmth of the streetlight calling out to her, but while her instincts are telling her to run they're also saying there is something here. Something she has to take care of. Something she wants nothing to do with but fucking words like "destiny" and "chosen" are suddenly in her vocabulary and she pauses and turns to face the alley she just crossed through.

"Holy shit…"

The voice takes her by surprise.

She jumps, turns, and has her fists raised ready for battle but is met with a familiar face.

Well, familiar in the sense that she recognizes Dave Karofsky, but she is not happy about it. His grin, however, suggests he is thrilled to run into her. "Well hello there," he drawls, eyeing her like he's just found his next slushie target. "Isn't it past your bed time?"

"I'm a big girl, puck head," she shoots back as her body suddenly tenses. "I hope you're not following me, or something, because I'm not even close to interested."

"Well…I'm very interested in-"

"Look, Karofsky, I've got things to do so…" she motions him to scamper off, but his smile just gets wider as his eyes roam up and down her body. It's something she's used to, the feeling when someone cannot stop staring at you. When he stops at her neck, however, and his eyes glaze over and drool practically slides down his chin, she suddenly knows what's happening.

"Shit."

Karofsky's giant, meaty fist connects with her face and she flies back a few feet, landing on her back with a dull thud. It hurts, and she feels the throbbing from where he hit her in the face, but she manages to scramble quickly to her feet and prepare for the next attack. He's walked forward into the shadows now, but she can still feel him leering at her. "I always thought you were tough, but I never expected you to pick yourself up after a hit like that."

"I think I'm gonna surprise you, Karofsky," she banters back with her body on full alert.

The laugh he lets out echoes through the alley. He steps out of the shadow, and his face has morphed into something that she's seen a bunch of times now. She's still not sure she can get used to it: the blazing, yellow eyes, the bumpy yet menacing brow, and the glint of white fangs ready to bite into her neck and suck the life out of her.

There was enough vampire craze in the entertainment industry that she hated, why did they have to actually be real?

"But…you're just a girl," he says. "How are you going to surprise me?"

She smiles.

The big idiot steps close enough for her to send a strong roundhouse kick right into his chest, even though he was still several inches taller than her. The shock on his face was almost enough to make her lose her focus, because she never got tired of seeing that 'oh shit' look come across these vampire's faces when they realize that their prey, a helpless, young girl, is actually their enemy.

The force of her kick propels him back several feet, knocking into a dumpster with a loud clang. He's up, though, in an instant. The look on his face suggests that he's through with the back and forth and the assumptions and now he just wants her blood.

The hunger, and the fact that she's guessing he's a fairly new vampire, makes him sloppy. He throws a couple punches that she blocks easily enough, but she can't find room for a blow of her own. He catches her in the ribs and she stumbles back, clutching the area.

Newbies were sloppy, but they were also fucking strong.

"Dammit, Karofsky," she winces.

She's been encountering a lot of new vampires lately, but she was still pretty new herself. So, when he catches her off guard she's only mildly surprised.

There's also pain from the way he tackles her to the ground and now has her pinned. Her senses sometimes need work; she has to keep remembering to focus, even through the pain. It's hard though, especially when you're locked in mortal combat with someone you kind of grew up with. Karofsky was always a meat head jock who spent all his time during school hours picking on the weak. He had this coming to him for a while, but this is the first vampire she's recognized and that's throwing off her game as well.

He's got her pinned pretty good, she'll give him that, but she's got a free hand that he hasn't noticed because he's too busy inching closer. "I always wanted a piece of you," he laughs and she has to fight the eye roll and focus on reaching behind her back. "Here's my chance to taste Santana Lopez."

Santana is so disgusted, she doesn't even give him the satisfaction of a comeback, just brings the wooden stake around and slams it into his chest.

Right in the heart.

Karofsky's eyes go wide, his grip loosens, and his mouth hangs open in shock before it all dissolves in front of her. On her, to be more accurate. The boy was not a small and now she's breathing in a lot of dust.

She rolls on to her side, violently coughs out the dust, and feels her body readjust to not having a 200+lbs. teenage vampire on top of her, as well as her injuries which are now starting to cause lots and lots of pain. She looks down and sees her hand still clutching to the sharp piece of wood, and immediately shoves it away.

A part of her still feels like this is some weird, fucked up dream. That, maybe, someone got it wrong and she was just freakishly strong and naturally agile and not…chosen. So far, months later, it hasn't happened.

A cell phone rings in the distance to the tune of Don't Stop Believing and Santana groans.

How Rachel Berry manages to steal all of Glee Club's phones and set their ring tones to the number they have planned for Regionals, Santana will never know. She wishes, briefly, that the tiny diva will get turned so she could deal with her, but instantly feels bad and takes it back. She may not be Berry's number one fan, but she has grown very protective of her and the other members of Glee.

She pushes herself to her feet, trying not to let the pain of the act get to her, and walks back to where she first entered the ally and stashed her bag behind a pile of empty boxes. She has to remember, next time, to change out of her uniform so she can at least have pockets to carry her phone…and her weapons. The small, piece of wood she was given was a little snug tucked into the back of her skirt, but she had to improvise. Juggling Cheerios, Glee, and school in general was hard enough. Adding her new duties left no time to be conscious of her outfit some nights.

When she finally fishes her phone out of her bag, she clicks through missed calls and text messages. Whoever had called her that many times probably had good reason, but there was no way she could ignore the person calling her right now. She hits the talk button, brings the phone up to her ear, and doesn't have time to greet the caller.

"Report," the voice on the other end commands.

"Just one tonight," Santana responds immediately. "A student. Dave Karofsky."

"Student? How long has he been missing from school?"

"I'm not sure," she answers. "I go out of my way to not pay attention to anyone on the hockey team."

"That's going to have to change."

Santana bites her tongue, stopping whatever remark was going to fly out of her mouth. Things were different now, and she had to keep reminding herself. She'd always been pretty obedient to certain superiors, but that's because of the perks it provided. She may still be on top in terms of high school hierarchy, but she had a feeling that keeping her status was going to be harder and harder.

It was probably too much to ask that being chosen would only change her life minimally as opposed to the train wreck she saw it becoming. Especially if she had to start actually paying attention to the morons in her school outside of the morons she was forced to keep company with.

"That should be it for the night if you got through all the areas you were assigned."

"I did."

"Fine," the stern, soulless voice says on the other line. "That's mediocre work then, Santana. I expect better from you."

"I'll do better next-"

The line was dead before she had a chance to respond.

Even though she hates this with everything inside of her, she still can't help being disappointed in herself for letting her connection to the supernatural world down. What the fuck was she supposed to do, though? If there were no vampires to kill, wasn't Santana's job technically done?

Before tucking her phone back in her bag, she looks at the time and growls at the 1AM sign flashing black at her.

It's going to take her at least fifteen minutes to jog home, then she has to climb through her window and actually calm her body down long enough to fall asleep for a few hours before she's up again at five for Cheerio's practice.

"Son of a bitch."

She looks herself over, her hands wiping at the dust that she is now covered in. Great, now she has to shower and wash Karofsky's ashes out of her hair and pray that they can be dry cleaned off her once crisp and pristine uniform. Luckily, Coach had made them invest in a whole week's worth of uniforms, but she'd have Santana's head if she ever figured out that she'd gotten Karofsky's dust all over her.

Even though it was completely hypocritical and utter bullshit considering how she found out about her destiny. It was a memory that stayed with her every night as she ran home. One Santana will never forget.

xxxxx

There is always something to fear when Sue Sylvester calls you to her office.

Especially if you're a Cheerio that happened to somehow throw Carly Jones up in the air a lot higher than she intended.

Like…a lot higher. Several feet higher.

Santana had no idea what happened. They had done this routine perfectly (well, Coach had claimed that they performed like deaf llamas, but still…it was flawless) the previous week, so Santana was just as shocked when Carly flew up in the air. A few girls backed off, some gaped at Santana, and a few remained where they were and tried to catch the flying girl who was now falling quickly back to the football field.

They all ended up in a huge pile of limbs and groans of pain.

Santana remained where she was, jaw wide open, and staring upward at how high she had thrown the Cheerio. Quinn Fabray, head cheerleader and one of Santana's best friends, was one of the girls that jumped back and was still taking small steps backwards as she looked from Santana to the pile of flailing bodies and back again. Brittany, her other best friend, had not moved and had her eyes locked on Santana. Her head was tilted slightly and her face had an unreadable expression.

The feedback from Coach flipping on her bull horn rang in Santana's ears, and she whipped around to look where Coach had perched herself on the stands. She didn't say anything for a moment, which gave Santana a little time to mentally prepare herself for whatever verbal and/or physical abuse she was about to receive.

"Santana, my office in five. Everyone else hit the showers. And I don't want to see those tears Carly. Walk it off."

The Cheerios were stunned into silence. After Coach walked off, all of their eyes turned to Santana. She cleared her throat and began walking off the field, ignoring the feeling of everyone's eyes staring at her still. She didn't turn around, wouldn't give anyone the satisfaction of appearing freaked out or nervous, but she heard someone running after her and just knew that it was Brittany.

"What was that?" she asked quietly.

"I don't know…don't know my own strength or something," she dismissed immediately, and felt bad about lying to her best friend just as quickly. "Don't worry about it though."

"OK…why didn't Coach yell at you?"

Leave it to Brittany to do as she's told, but Santana didn't like the subject she switched to. "I don't know," she repeated, stopping and turning towards the blonde. "I'm sure she has some other form of torture prepared for me. Like I said, though, don't worry about me, B. I can deal with Coach."

"Well…let me know what happens."

Santana gives her a quick, confident smile before turning and walking as fast as she can into the school. Once she's out of eyesight, her face falls, her breathing becomes rapid, and her pulse is racing. Brittany was right, Coach should have torn her a new asshole and then handed out whatever punishment she had in mind later, but doing the whole thing at one? In private? That was not how Sue Sylvester operated.

She stopped just short of Coach's door, leaning against the wall and squeezing her eyes shut in an attempt to calm down. "Come on, Santana. Keep it together," she mumbled to herself. She took a deep breath, reached her fist over to the door, and knocked.

"Come in."

Coach doesn't look up as Santana enters. She's writing something down so she just stands and waits for the wrath of Sue Sylvester, trying her best to look like she isn't scared and confused. Coach finally looks up at her. The gaze behind Sue Sylvester's eyes is always fear inducing, but for some reason Santana calms when she doesn't see blind rage etched in Coach's face.

"That was quite a throw just now," she says conversationally.

Santana opens her mouth to speak but find she's too shocked to think of anything to say. After all her time on the Cheerios, all her time in the presence of Sue Sylvester, she has never heard anything so light and nonthreatening leave her mouth.

"Thanks…"

"Has anything else like that happened recently? Sudden bursts of…strength?"

The question catches Santana off guard.

Her first instinct is to fire off a 'no' but then her mind begins to rundown the past week's events. She remembers trying to twist the lid off of a stubborn jar and having it explode in her hand. The glass had cut her up, but not a lot because she was healed the next day as if nothing happened. Then she remembers slamming her hand into her locker after remembering she left her homework in her room. It didn't hurt her hand, but she could make out the hand print left behind.

As she kept going through her week, and even weeks beforehand, she kept remembering all these small instances where something seemed strange but she just blew it off. Coach saw the realization dawn on Santana and smiled. A smile that Santana recognized when Coach came up with a show stopping Cheerio's routine or recruited someone that just boosted the team.

It was, however, freaking Santana the fuck out.

"I'm going to take your stunned silence as a yes," Coach goes on, shutting the book she was making notes in and motioning for Santana to take a seat. She does, her body automatically paying attention to any command Sue Sylvester gives. "Listen, Santana, when I chose Quinn Fabray as my Head Cheerio it was a decision that I was starting to regret. Sue Sylvester does not second guess, but there I was…doubting my actions…"

Despite her better instincts, Santana actually allowed herself a moment to think that Coach was going to give her head Cheerio.

Santana couldn't have been more wrong.

"But I wasn't wrong. Sue Sylvester is never wrong and Sue Sylvester saw something in you that wasn't a Head Cheerio…it was something else…

"You see…in every generation there is a chosen one. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer. You are the Slayer."

"You're not giving me Head Cheerio?"

Denial was a very powerful thing.

Santana hears the words, they go in her ear and her mind picks them up, but she can't process them. It's like Coach just spoke a different language. So, naturally, she chooses to focus on the fact that Quinn will remain Captain of the team which, OK…Quinn's good and everything, but Santana deserves it so much more.

Coach snaps her fingers and Santana straightens up, locking eyes with her and still trying to wrap her head around what Coach said, and move past denial "I really need you to focus here, Santana."

"I think you've had one too many Appletini CarboGels today, Coach Sylvester."

"I don't have time to coddle you, Santana, the forces of evil are invading this town and you haven't had a lick of training," Coach says. "Now…you're my Slayer and, like my Cheerios, you have to be on top of your game at all times. Right now, you're like the Glee Club of vampire Slayers: you can't put one foot in front of the other, can't carry a tune, and aren't even aware of what a complete and utter disaster you are.

"That changes now."

"They're not real…" Santana shoots back. She tries to say the word 'vampire' but finds her mouth can't get around its tricky sound.

"Vampires are very much real," Coach says the word loud and pointedly. Santana flinches at it, still not convinced that this is an actual conversation she's having right now. It's not even a conversation, it's Sue Sylvester finally stepping over the line to crazy town. "Vampires are real, and it's your job to kill them. So…you should get over your useless denial and step up, because I've got to train you and I don't waste my time on losers."

"You expect me to believe this? That I'm some kind of…"

"Slayer."

Santana closes her eyes at the word, still trying to get a hold of what is happening. "Slayer," she manages to repeat. "And that I'm supposed to kill…"

"Vampires…I don't know why it's taking you this long to understand, Santana. You're the chosen one. For once, I don't get to pick who I want. Do not make this harder for me."

When she leaves Coach's office, she's still shocked.

Shocked enough that she doesn't realize Brittany is waiting for her a few feet down the hall. Santana turns in the opposite direction of her friend and begins to walk…somewhere; she's not even sure where her feet are carrying her. Brittany, apparently, doesn't think too much of it and just walks quickly to her side. Santana notices, but doesn't say anything.

What was there to say?

"I don't think anybody has ever been in Coach Sylvester's office for as long as you were," Brittany says after a beat of silence. Santana looks down at her wrist to check a watch that's not there and that she's never worn. She cannot shake herself awake from this dream.

"What happened in there?"

Santana chooses to ignore Brittany's new question and address the comment that came before it, "How long was I in there?"

"Almost an hour," Brittany answers. Santana can hear the worry in her tone and feels something tug inside of her, something telling her to make it better, make Brittany better, but she doesn't know what to do anymore. Luckily, Brittany continues, "I thought you would've texted me, like, a few minutes after…but then I walked by her office and you were still in there. So…I waited."

The timing makes sense, she supposes.

After her brain turned on and she started entertaining the idea that Sue Sylvester wasn't playing some kind of crazy, fucked up joke on her, Coach set up a schedule of training and patrolling and…a lot of other shit she didn't want to think about right now. All of that could have taken an hour.

Regardless of how long she was actually in Coach's office (or how long Brittany had decided to wait for her) she knows that she doesn't have a lot of time to get home, change, and try to convince her mom to skip out on dinner to 'hang out with friends' aka train and patrol and…kill vampires.

What is her life?

"Santana?"

Brittany snaps her out of her own head again and she looks back at her friend. "Sorry, B, I just…" she stammers, searching her mind for something dismissive but not hurtful to say. She comes up empty. "I've got to go. Talk later?"

Santana doesn't even wait for a response. She's around the corner by the time she has a chance to smack herself in the head for being so verbally clumsy. The fact of the matter is, though, that one of the things Coach went over (the most important, she stressed) was that Santana was not allowed to tell anyone about what she was or what she kills.

This was going to be her biggest obstacle yet.

Brittany was persistent and had some sort of crazy sixth sense when it came to Santana. Quinn did too…well, Quinn would find out from Brittany that Santana was hiding something (or pick up on it herself, whichever came first really) and then go all 'holier than thou' Head fucking Cheerio on Santana and somehow force the information out of her.

Figuring out what to say the next day and getting a story together for when she was sure she would have to disappear suddenly, was just another thing she had to add to the list of stuff she does not want.

She feels a tear slide down her cheek, and wipes at it viciously. This was not good. She needed to get a hold of herself because Santana Lopez does not cry.

Period.

Ironically enough, it took the glimpse of an impending to break down to straighten her shit out and get in a clear frame of mind. With that tear, she pushes past all the other stages to acceptance. Coach promised that, tonight, she was going to see firsthand that vampires were real and she was chosen to destroy them.

Coach had also told her about her own powers. How, in addition to strength and agility, her senses would be heightened and that she might even be able to sense impending danger and doom. As she stepped outside of school and took in the sight of the sun setting, that sense kicked itself into high gear.

Santana felt then that she had no choice but to embrace the acceptance.