Santana Lopez was a very punctual person. It didn't matter what it was for- class, Cheerios, Glee, family dinners, she was always on time. She hated being late, and people who were consistently late pissed her off. Brittany was the exception to that, of course.

Brittany was pretty much the exact opposite of Santana in that aspect. It probably had to do with her naive attitude, but she was like a child. Everything distracted her- candy, rainbows, babies. So she usually had a hard time getting places on time. Santana was used to it. Whenever Brittany was late for a date, she just kicked back and relaxing, knowing Brittany would show up in her own time. And sure enough, she was right- Brittany never forgot a date, she just always had a little trouble getting there. After a while, whether it was five minutes or two hours, she always showed up.

So when Santana was a half an hour late to meet Brittany for their date at Breadstix, the blonde girl was reasonably worried. She was used to being the late one, not the one waiting, and she was concerned.

She took out her phone after ten minutes of wait, texting the Latina.

Brittany: Hey, San, where are you?

She started playing Angry Birds after texting Santana to pass the time. After she didn't get a response for fifteen minutes she went back in to text Santana again. That was another uncharacteristic thing for Santana- she always had her phone on her, and she always texted back.

She could see on the screen that the message had been read, but yet she had gotten no response.

Brittany: Why didn't you text back? Are you mad? :(

Five minutes passed without a response.

Brittany: I'm sorry for whatever I did.

Another three.

Brittany: Santana, you're starting to scare me.
Brittany: I'm coming over.

She jumped up, gathering her stuff and absentmindedly throwing a 50 dollar bill on the table as she left Breadstix and headed to her car. The girls had eaten at Breadstix and then gone over to Santana's house to make out so many times, the route was relatively easy to remember, even for Brittany who was terrible with directions and driving in general. She could probably drive there with her eyes closed.

"Santana!" Brittany got out of the car, heading up to the front door and knocking on it. "Santana, open up!" She frowned when no one answered. What with Santana's mom and stepdad and all of those brothers of hers living there in addition to Santana herself, there was always someone around to open the door when she came over.

Luckily, Brittany remembered she still had the key to the Lopezes' house that Santana had made for her. Santana had insisted at first that Brittany give her a key to the Pierces' house in case something bad happened and she needed to get in, and then had agreed to give Brittany a key to Santana's house just so she wouldn't feel left out. The ironic thing was, Santana had never had reason to use her key to Brittany's house, while she had never assumed Brittany would have the need to use the key she had made for the blonde.

Brittany set her backpack on the ground, kneeling down and beginning to root through it. She had to shift past all the papers and candy wrappers and old gum packs (Santana had told her just the other day that they needed to clean out Brittany's bag together soon, but they hadn't found the time to do it yet) before finally finding the key with the big S engraved on the side of it, holding it up and smiling triumphantly.

Brittany slipped the key into the lock, pushing the door open. She grabbed her bag, heading into the house. It didn't seem like anybody was around, but yet she had seen Santana's car in the driveway.

"Santana?"

She headed down the hallway toward Santana's room, pushing the door open and stepping in cautiously. And that was when she saw her.

Lying on the bed, Santana looked nothing like the clean, pristine, put-together Santana Lopez Brittany knew.

That Santana's hair was always neatly brushed and pulled back into a high pony, makeup carefully done, Cheerios uniform not with so much as a wrinkle in it.

This Santana's hair was not only down (Coach Sylvester would probably have a heart attack if she saw Santana like that, Brittany thought,) but it was messy. It kinda looked like post-sex hair, but weren't people always happy after sex? And why would Santana have sex with anyone but Brittany? They were in unicorn together- ever since Santana had finally decided that sex was indeed dating, they had agreed not to have sex with anyone else but each other. It didn't feel as good when Brittany had sex with someone she didn't have feelings for, anyways. There were bruises on her face, arms, and legs, and her Cheerios uniform looked like it had been ripped.

"Santana? W-what happened?" Brittany asked, cautiously making her way towards the bed.

"Go away, Brittany," Santana whispered in a husky voice, looking up at Brittany momentarily before hiding her face. "Go home. I don't want you to see me like this."

"I'm your girlfriend. Why can't I see you like this?" She inquired, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed. "You always protect me and defend me when people call me stupid. Why can't I help you when you're hurt?"

Santana started crying again at that, and Brittany moved forward, wrapping her arms around the Latina and gently stroking her hair. "Please just tell me what happened," she pleaded softly. "Let me help you."

"B-Brittany," Santana sobbed. "He just came in here, and... I-I tried to stop him, I did. I kicked and I hit and I bit, but i-it wasn't enough. It just made him more angry. He took my clothes off- he ripped my uniform in the process, and he was so big, and it hurt, but no matter how much I screamed, no one came to help me. No one rescued me."

Brittany frowned, trying to think of something to say to Santana. "I think you should tell someone," she said honestly. Sure, maybe telling the Latina that she should tattle to an adult wasn't the best method for cheering her up, but it was probably the right thing to do in this situation. "My mom always tells me that I should tell an adult if someone touches me and I don't like it." She pressed a soft kiss to Santana's cheek, comfortingly running her thumb over one of the big purple bruises on Santana's arm, trying to comfort her. Santana relaxed a little against Brittany's embrace. "You should tell your mom and stepdad! I'm sure they'll understand."

"No!" Santana sat up again, all traces of ease gone from her face. "I'm not telling them, Brittany. It's my fault- if I weren't g-gay, then he wouldn't have done it. This isn't right, Britt- you and me. It's not natural."

"What?" Brittany's eyes widened with hurt. "You don't mean that."

Santana sighed, hating the feeling of guilt that washed over her when she saw Brittany looking like a kicked puppy. It broke her heart. "You're right. I'm sorry, B, I don't know what I was thinking. Nothing has ever felt more right in my life than being with you."

"I forgive you. Just- who was it?"

"I'm not telling you that."

"But please-"

"I'm not telling you!" Santana screamed, and Brittany jumped, heart racing. Santana never yelled at her, she never even so much as made one of her classic bitch faces at Brittany. She was the one person who Santana was consistently nice to. "Just leave!"

She didn't want to leave, but she was scared, and she didn't really know what else to do. She jumped up, glancing back at Santana once as she made a break for the door.

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