A/N: This story is based on a prompt from the glee angst meme over at livejournal.

Part 1

Brittany S. Pierce wasn't always Brittany S. Pierce, up until the age of six Brittany was Brittany S., well she can't usually remember what her last name used to be. She's in the first grade when someone finally notices that perhaps there is something wrong. She's miles behind the other kids, she can't count past ten, recite the alphabet, or spell her name, she shows up without a lunch so frequently that the teacher takes to bringing food for her, and she only speaks when spoken to. However, it isn't until the day that her teacher notices the bruises that social services gets called.

Brittany is almost seven when she gets placed with the Pierces. Mrs. Pierce is nothing like Brittany's mother. Firstly, she cries a lot, she cries when she realizes that Brittany doesn't know how to tie her shoes or zip a zipper, she cries when she tries to hug Brittany and the little girl cringes, and she cries the night that Brittany spills her milk at supper and won't come out from under the table for two hours. Secondly, she takes great care of Brittany, she lets her eat three times a day everyday, she takes her shopping for new clothes, she doesn't get mad when the only way that Brittany can sleep is with all of the lights on, and she never hits her, not even when Brittany wets the bed. Most importantly though, she tells Brittany she loves her all of the time.

Brittany is ten when the Pierces pack up and move to Lima, Ohio. With her blonde hair and blue eyes Brittany looks just as much theirs as her new baby sister and when everyone assumes she is their biological child, the Pierces don't correct them. By now Brittany can count past ten, spell her name, and tie her shoes. She probably won't ever be the smartest person in a room but, all things considered, her parents are incredibly proud. In three years Brittany has changed so much that no one would ever guess that this sunny child had once been that terrified little girl who only spoke when spoken to. If you know where to look though, there are signs that she is still that girl. Though she has managed to downgrade to only needing a nightlight by her bed, she is still afraid of the dark and there's a stack of blankets in her armoire because, though both the pediatrician and the psychologist keep assuring her parents that she'll outgrow it, she still frequently wets the bed.

Brittany is thirteen when she comes home from school one afternoon in tears. Her father is ready to march down to the middle school and take care of whoever has made his little girl cry but her mother settles him down. It doesn't take them long to discern the problem, she's been invited to a sleepover, something they're not sure how she has managed to avoid before now, and, though the nightlight by her bed disappeared sometime last year, the stack of blankets in her armoire remains. Brittany might not be the smartest girl in her class but she isn't stupid, she knows that bed wetting isn't normal at her age; her little sister isn't quite four yet and their parents don't keep extra blankets stacked in her closest. Her parents don't know what to do for her, though the pediatrician and the psychologist continue to tell them she should outgrow it, she is now well beyond the age where she ought to have full bladder control. So, even though they agree that it isn't the best solution, they provide Brittany with an excuse as to why she can't sleep over. This strategy might have worked if the person hosting the party wasn't Santana Lopez; Santana decides that Brittany is her best friend and that if she can't sleep over no one can. The guilt turns out to be too much for Brittany and she reluctantly finds herself at her first ever sleepover. Being Santana's best friend does however have its perks, while everyone else has to sleep on the floor Brittany gets to share Santana's bed. When she wakes up in the morning to dry sheets, Brittany has never been more relieved.

Brittany is fourteen almost fifteen when she decides that Santana is magical. She has just returned from a week long cheerleading camp and is sitting at the dinner table when she informs her parents that Santana is like her lucky charm, but not the cereal kind. Since that first sleepover she has shared a bed with Santana countless times and not once has she woken up to wet bedding. Her parents don't argue with her because they would like to believe for her sake that it is more than just a coincidence that she has never wet the bed while sharing it with her best friend. Though Brittany may have never wet the bed while sharing it with Santana, she still wets the bed at least three times a month and the pediatrician and the psychologist have stopped telling her parents that she will outgrow it; they never specifically say she won't outgrow it, they just never say that she will anymore. The psychologist explains that some trauma is just too difficult to ever get over completely, which makes Brittany's mom cry the way she used to cry all the time when Brittany first came to live with them.

Brittany is sixteen when her lucky charm fails her. Her parents and her little sister are away for the night and Santana is sleeping over. Brittany knows that they would never admit it but her parents don't like to leave her home alone. This fact usually works in Brittany's favour because any night she gets to spend with Santana is a good night, but the night that the magic quits working Brittany wishes for an instant that she had never even met Santana. There are some things you don't want anyone, not even your best friend, to know.

xxxxxx

Santana is a light sleeper, so when Brittany sits up in bed somewhere around three in the morning it wakes her up. It takes a minute for her groggy brain to realize that something isn't quite right and another minute for it to register that she's damp. "Brittany?" she asks sleepily.

"I think you should go home," Brittany blurts out much too quickly.

"Go home?" Santana sits up at this, the fog around her brain quickly fading, "it's like three in the morning Brit. What is going on?"

Brittany just looks at her nervously and shrugs. Santana waits expectantly but Brittany doesn't say anything else, she just starts chewing on her lip. When she gives up waiting for Brittany to say something, Santana re-registers that she is damp and peels back the covers. At this action Brittany makes a noise that Santana can't quite place until she realizes what has caused the dampness, "Brit," she asks softly, "did you have an accident?"

Brittany looks down at her hands. The embarrassment is overwhelming and she wishes she could just disappear.

"Brittany it's okay," Santana reassures her, "it's really not that big of a deal."

This reassurance doesn't seem to help the blonde who won't look up so Santana reaches over and grabs Brittany's hand to get her attention. The sudden movement startles Brittany and she jumps back, "Hey it's okay," Santana soothes tucking a piece of hair behind Brittany's ear, "Do you want me to call your mom?"

Brittany shakes her head at this, there's no use bothering her parents this late at night, it's not like they can do anything anyway.

Brittany still won't look at her and Santana is starting to get worried, "we'll just change the blankets, I know you have a bunch in your armoire," at this statement Santana trails off realizing that these blankets might be there for a reason. She wants to ask Brittany but, since Brittany is still basically non-responsive, she knows now is not the right time.

"I'll do it," Brittany finally says something, though she's still staring at her hands, "you shower."

"Or you can shower and I'll change the bedding," Santana tells her, "you're a lot wetter than I am." As soon as she says it, Santana knows she has chosen the wrong words, Brittany's head hangs lower and Santana quickly scrambles trying to fix it, "or we can both change the bedding and we can shower together."

The corners of Brittany's mouth turn up in a small smile but she shakes her head, she's much too embarrassed for that.

"Look Britt, if you want we can sit here like this all night. I don't care." Santana tells her and she means it. It might not be the most comfortable way to spend a night but for Britt she'll do it. "Just look at me for a sec okay?

After a long minute Brittany finally looks up from her hands and at Santana, though she won't meet her eyes, "that's a bit better," Santana reassures, "look, you'll be more comfortable if you shower. Please have a shower and let me change the bedding. Please." Santana doesn't have to beg for anything very often so it is something she is not used to and she sighs with relief when Brittany nods.

Half an hour later the bedding is changed and they have both showered. They are now sitting facing each other on the bed neither particularly sure what to say. Brittany still won't meet Santana's eyes and it is clear that she is embarrassed. Santana is the first to break the silence, "you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I meant it. It's not a big deal."

"My mother is a drug addict." Brittany blurts out.

Santana isn't sure what she is expecting Brittany to tell her but that certainly isn't it, "Britt, I'm pretty sure your mom isn't a drug addict."

"Not my mom," Brittany clarifies like it is the most obvious thing in the world, "my real mother."

Santana really wants to be supportive but she has no idea what Brittany is talking about. Luckily she doesn't have to say anything for Brittany to continue

"I'm adopted."

This revelation shocks Santana, she can't figure why she doesn't already know something clearly so important about her best friend, "why didn't you tell me before."

Brittany shrugs, "sometimes I forget," she sighs, "the rest of the time I like to pretend that I forget."

There's something about the sadness in Brittany's voice that makes Santana guess that Brittany doesn't mean she was adopted when she was a baby. She reaches and grabs Brittany's hand. Lacing their fingers together she squeezes gently, "you don't have to tell me anything else if you don't want to.

Brittany is silent for awhile and Santana thinks she isn't going to say anything else but eventually she does speak, "mom says some people shouldn't be parents. Did you know that people aren't supposed to hit you ever, not even when you wet the bed?" Brittany says the last part like this fact still surprises her even though no one has hit her in ten years.

"Yes I know that," Santana reply's evenly though she's seething inside and, even though she knows she should let Brittany tell the story at her own pace, she can't help but ask a question, "How old were you when you got adopted?"

"Um…" Brittany starts, numbers weren't really her thing and those first years living with the Pierces all seemed to meld together in her mind, "I can't remember," then she does remember something, "I was six when the lady showed up at school and wouldn't let me go home."

Six is a lot of years is all Santana can think and with the small pieces of the story that Brittany has provided she is already coming up with infinite possibilities for those years, each more horrific then the next, "I'm sorry," is all Santana can manage to say.

"Why," Brittany asks and Santana isn't exactly surprised at the blonde's confusion.

"I'm sorry that someone hurt you," Santana clarifies. She really wishes that Brittany would look her in the eye because she's having a hard time figuring out what is going through the blonde's brain.

"Oh," Brittany shrugs, "that was a long time ago."

Santana squeezes her hand gently again, "is that why you wet the bed?" She asks, thinking that this can be the only logical explanation for Brittany bringing this up now.

Brittany looks at her hands again still obviously ashamed, "that's what the psychic thinks."

Santana smiles a bit at this obvious wrong word choice, "do you mean the psychologist?"

"Yes," Brittany responds, "that's what I said isn't it?"

"Almost," Santana tells her, "Brittany, it's really important that you look at me now okay?"

It takes a minute but finally blue eyes meet brown, "It makes me angry that someone hurt you but it doesn't change how I feel about you. I wouldn't lie to you, not ever, okay, so whatever I say is the truth. It doesn't matter that you were adopted or if you wet the bed. I don't want you to be embarrassed about this, you can't control it, it's not your fault, and it doesn't matter, I love you. You got that, I love you, no matter what." With that Santana pulls Brittany tightly into a hug.

"Okay," the blonde whispers into Santana's shoulder, "I love you too."

Still intertwined the two girls lie down on the bed. Nothing else is said between the two, it has been a long night and they are both exhausted. Santana knows that there is so much more of Brittany's story that she needs to know, but that will come with time. For now she is alright with just lying beside Brittany and listening to her breathing. It isn't until the blonde's breathing evens out and Santana is sure that she is sleeping that she lets herself drift off too.