So, judging from the summary, you could probably already tell that at times this story will be very depressing and emotional. I'm not going to reveal much, but I will say that the end of this chapter will start it all off. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Please read and review!

Santana stormed down one of the many ominous hallways of William McKinley High School, fighting back the hot tears trying to work their way out of her eyes. She absolutely refused to let down her guard about this. Rachel Berry was most definitely not going to get the best of her on this issue. Well, it wasn't exactly an issue. It was an amazingly large problem that needed to be solved immediately. Santana knew Finn wasn't the smartest, but was he really that stupid? Her eyes locked in on the two lovebirds, and she more or less sprinted over to them. She needed to stop their sickeningly sweet affectionate looks before they made her sick.

"Finnocence, Berry, stop in the name of… gross. I need to talk to you two, well actually, just Frankenteen."

"What do you want, Santana? If you think I'm going to leave you two alone then you're sadly mistaken," Rachel said, possessively grabbing onto Finn's arm.

"Bitch, please."

"Santana, don't talk to my girlfriend like that!"

Finn's comment was a punch to a stomach for the fiery latina. This whole situation was worse than she had thought. Controlling her expression to keep it from displaying any emotion other than anger, she did her best to ignore Rachel's smirk.

"Girlfriend? She's your girlfriend again! But she cheated on you! What are you going to do next, hook back up with Quinn?"

Shit. She didn't mean to hit him below the belt like that. She meant to sting him of course, but just not like that. Why the hell did she mention Quinn? Oh right, because fury and insults were her way of disguising hurt and keeping up her defenses.

"I didn't even have sex with Puck!"

"Well he told me that you tried to! He was the one that called it off! You didn't think he would mention that in his kissing my ass, trying to apologize to me for cheating?"

Why the hell did she say that too? She just gave Berry the next move.

"Cheating on you? I thought you two were never formally together?"

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie. Her head was screaming at her to lie.

"Well we were for all of two days! We actually decided to try being a real couple but now that's over thanks to you! I, unlike your boyfriend, have the sense to call it off when someone cheats on me."

"Back off, Santana," warned Finn.

"No. I will not back off because I'm right. You shouldn't be back to getting it on with your Jewish gal pal!"

"Why do you even care so much?"

She flinched, but recovered quickly, and gave Finn half of the truth.

"Because you don't even seem to care about the effects of this. Your best friend, who was formerly my boyfriend, and your girlfriend screwed both of us over, and you don't even seem to care! But you know what, I'll leave you two. Don't come crying back to me when Puck gets out the wine coolers, and we have another babygate."

Not daring to observe the surely stung look on Finn's face, Santana ran as quickly as she could. She entered the girls bathroom and sank to her knees, crying. She really wouldn't have cared if it was anyone else who had walked in and saw her. (Well, she would have been really pissed had it been Rachel.)

Sighing, Quinn sat down next to the crying girl and started to soothingly rub her shoulder. Eventually, some of the blonde girl thawed out, and she enveloped her frenemy in a hug. When Santana's sobs were reduced to sniffles, Quinn spoke up.

"Why am I doing this for you? We've been trying to sabotage each other nonstop for the past two years and don't think I didn't hear you using me so flatteringly in your screaming match with Finn and Rachel."

"I don't know. You can go. I don't need you."

"Yes, you do."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You need someone, Santana. You're not going to talk about this kind of thing with Brittany and you're sure as hell not going to talk about this with Puck. I propose a cease fire between the two of us. You can't keep going through everything alone, and as lame as this is going to sound, I miss our friendship. Can we please just stop trying to kill each other?"

"Any other day I'd say no, but I'm obviously… lonely at the moment, so I guess I accept your offer."

"Good. Because our first order of business as people who no longer hate each other is discussing this. So, are you in love with Finn, Puck, or Brittany?"

"Brittany? I'm not gay, Q."

"Bisexual? Don't deny that you've done some things with your best friend."

"We have, but I definitely don't love her. It was just filler the last couple of weeks. I was surprised. I thought I'd feel sad about her being with Artie and no longer making out with me… but I don't. I think I used to love her, but then somebody else came along and screwed it up."

"Finn or Puck?"

"I'm not in love with anyone. Love is lame and sappy. You and Sam are disgusting."

"Any healthy relationship is disgusting to you."

"True that. Now, this little heart to heart is over. Glee club practice starts in ten minutes, and I have to redo my makeup. And by the way, if you tell anyone that Santana Lopez was crying, our little peace treaty will be toast."

"Do you really think I'd tell? During my pregnancy, this bathroom was kind of my crying corner. I'm going to go-

"Meet Sam?"

"Yeah, how did you-

"Of course. You better have him whipped, or else you're just pathetic."

Laughing, Quinn left the bathroom, the light leaving her eyes soon after her departure, once she though of how difficult glee club practice would be. Santana was hurting, the reactions to Finn and Rachel would surely be interesting, and Quinn still (secretly) felt hollow. Plus, this was New Directons after all, some random drama would most likely arise. Why couldn't they ever catch a break?

When glee club started, the tension was thick in the air. Nobody was brave enough to talk to anyone outside of the person sitting next to them. From the way Mr. Shuester entered the room, everyone could tell that something was wrong. Seriously wrong.

"Guys," he said quietly, "I'm afraid I have to pass along some horrible news to you. Ms. P-Pillsbury-Howell… is g-gone. It happened in a car accident."

I'm sorry. What a mean author I am.