Give Me Love.

The first time I met Santana Lopez was like a dream.

It was there, in room 201 of the Children's ward, that I first saw her. Even in pain she looked beautiful, and I found myself staring, captivated by her. My brother, Paul, noticed my distraction and nudged me. "Why don't you go talk to her?" He inquired, welcoming the perfect distraction from the IV going into his skin. "What's the worst that could happen?" He pressed again, after I made no effort to move from the sofa seated beside his hospital bed.

I gave him a pointed stare. "Mom sent me here to make sure t..things went alright with you, not to fllirt with possibly straight girls." "I'm not a baby." He sighed, exasperated, choosing to ignore my stutter over talking about the cancer. "If I dropped dead there's about ten nurses in here who would rush to my side." He smirked. My brother, the joker. "Look," he said, looking at me in the eyes. "If you don't talk to her, I will for you, and that'll just make things worse for you."

"UGH" I exclaimed, shooting out of my seat. "Fine, but if things turn to shit, I blame you." He grinned as I headed in the direction of the beautiful tan skinned girl.

Each step towards her seemed to drag on forever. What was I going to say? What if she had a boyfriend? What if she just ignored me?

I was too lost worried about what to say to notice I had reached the bed that the brunette was occupying. "Uuhhh." I blanked.

She looked up at me with those beautiful brown eyes and I was speechless, mouth gaping open, surely making a fool of myself.

"Um." She said, squirming, clearly uncomfortable under my gaze. "Can I help you?"

Those words alone seemed to pull me from me reverie. "Hi," I smiled, "My name's Brittany S. Pierce."

The first time I went on a date with Santana Lopez was unbelievable.

I had asked her if she would go out to dinner with me two weeks after we'd talked in that room of the Hospital, she'd agreed, but wanted to stay at home, still uncomfortable about people staring at her bald head. She had been so sad the day her hair started falling out.

Since I was a hopeless cook, I opted to order Chinese food instead of potentially burning down the kitchen.

Half way to pick up Santana, I got the fimilar panic of nerves, causing my heart to double in tempo and my palms to turn slick with sweat. Surely I was going to screw this date up. She was so perfect, and I so ordinary, my mind went blank around her.

I sighed, it's now or never Brittany, as I signaled to pull into the fimilar street of the beautiful Latina.

I sat idely in the drive, trying to clm myself down.

Screw this I thought, you're Brittany S. Pierce. You can do a handless cartwheel without even thinking about it, one little date shouldn't scare you.

I exited my car, smoothing out my dress as I stood. Breathing calmly, I made my way over to the front door, and knocked.

Of course she'd be the one to answer, taking my breath away as soon as my blue eyes connected to brown. She smiled and ducked her head, a faint pink flush bleeding across her cheeks. She was so shy and delicate, it amazed me.

There were no words for the way I was feeling, so, silently, I held out my arm and escorted her to my car. . . . .

we lay side by side on the blanket I'd set out earlier, empty cartons of takeaway long forgotten. Silence wasn't uncomfortable for either of us, it was easy, natural.

I reached out, grapping her hand and entwining our fingers. "Santana," I whispered, running my thumb along the back of her hand, "I think i'm in love with you."

The months it took to fall even more in love with Santana Lopez, were the best.

I was there for all of it. The chemo, the thorwing up, the crying, and the pain.

She had pushed me away so many times, telling me I could find so much better, telling me she was ugly, and worthless.

I looked into those beautiful brown eyes and told her she couldn't get rid of me, no matter what happened. I would always protect her, I reminded her of that promise time and time again.

No one understood how I could put myself through the pain of loving someone who might die, they didn't think it was worth wasting your life, taking care of someone. But they didn't understand, Santana had changed me in so many ways, she showed me how to love, and how to be loved in return, and that, was worth more than anything I could ever do for her.

I fell for Santana Lopez, hard.

The day my borther died, was painful.

We got the call at 2am. I of course was staying at Santana's, and the shrill ring of my phone woke us. "Britt." Santana said with a cough, hand grabbing at my phone. "Britt, it's your Mom, I think you should answer it."

I reached out to grab my phione off San, eyes squinting at the bright LED light of my screen. "Mom?" I questioned with a yawn. "What's going on? Why are you ringing me at," I glanced at the clock on the bedside table. "2am?!"

"Britt," my Mom said, the coneection crackling, "Something's happened," she whispered, sadness evident in her voice. "It's Paul. He … he passed away." She sobbed, and the line went dead.

Shock rang through my body, phone still pressed against my ear. Everything was muted, like I had been submerged underwater, I could faintly hear Santana calling out my name, but it sounded like she was miles away, and at that point in time, I didn't really care.

My brother, dead? Impossible. Last time I'd seen him, he'd seemed so healthy. I didn't want to believe the cancer had beat him, he was so strong, almost as strong as.. Santana!

If cancer could beat Paul, what was going to happen to her?

Everything snapped back into action, blue eys met brown, and I grapped the Latina seated in front of me, holding on for dear life while sobbs racked through my body.

The day Santana died, a piece of me died too.

I remember that she'd passed away at three in the morning, in her sleep. Nurses kept telling me that it was so sad to see a young person die, they left me alone when I replied "Why? At least she's not in pain anymore."

I can remember her mother clinging to me, like her life depended on it, her tears staining my shirt. Her father with his hand on his wifes shoulder, tears silently streaming down his face, thanking me over and over again for being there for Santana. "Why would I be?" I stated hollowly. "She needed me." They left me alone after that.

Doctors wanted to move her body, take her down to the Morgue, telling me I couldn't go with her. "NO!" I screeched, hovering over her procectivly. "She needs me."

I remember Nurses trying to calm me, down, telling me I'd done my job, that she didn't need protected anymore.

I didn't want to believe them, Santana had told me she'd always need me, no matter what. But I was too tired, and she looked so peaceful.

I let them take her away, tears threatining to spill from my eyes, body ready to collapse from exhaustion.

"I love you Santana Lopez." I mouthed as Nurses wheeled you into the awaiting elevator.

The months I loved Santana Lopez were the best months of my life.