A/N – I'm a bit hesitant to post this as it's my first angsty Glee posting. And as a warning, it's dark; I'm in that kind of mood at the moment. It is rated M for adult themes including sexual abuse and self-harm. It's not particularly graphic, I rated it this way to be on the safe side. This chapter particularly deals with the sexual abuse. The story is from Brittany's point of view and at the time of her telling it, she's grown up quite a bit and isn't nearly as dense as the show portrays her to be. Personally I think there's more going on with her than the show shows anyway and I can't shake the thought that Brittany probably does have a bit of a tragic past in some way or another. This story is 95% complete and will only be three chapters at the most, depending on how I split it up. Anyway, enough from me.

What I did for Love

I've loved Santana Lopez since we were eight years old. Ever since my first day of school in Lima Ohio. My family had just moved into town and it was my first day of the third grade. Dave Karofsky, who would end up being quite the nuisance all throughout our middle and high school lives, had just made some comment about me being a "retard" or "stupid" or something. I can't really remember exactly.

What I do remember is seeing a small dark haired girl come swooping in and giving him a bloody nose. He ran crying for a teacher and she just stood there, hands on her hips and eyes all squinty like she wasn't the least bit afraid. And she wasn't. She was fierce. From then on, we were the best of friends and inseparable. I had my first real glimpse of love.

So when the teachers came to me and asked me if Santana had really punched Dave like he said, I said no. I said that I had punched him and he had just blamed Santana because he was embarrassed that I could beat him up. I was suspended on my first day of school. I think the teacher and principle had a suspicion that it was Santana, she was kind of known as a bit of a trouble maker, but I insisted that I was the one who punched chubby Dave.

Santana just stared as I took the blame. That afternoon as I was finally leaving detention and starting my walk home, she was waiting for me outside on the curb.

"You didn't have to do that." She said softly. "I hit him, I was happy to take the blame. He deserved to be hit for picking on you; you didn't do anything to him. I'll tell the principle if you want so you won't be in trouble."

I just shook my head and smiled. My parents wouldn't care if they even took the time to read the letter the principle had sent home with me. They probably wouldn't even notice if I was home from school the following day. They were very busy. They didn't have time to deal with me. I was slow. We all knew that. I accepted it and had grown used to the taunts and picking. When Santana stood up for me, it was not only refreshing but surprising and I remember wanting to keep this little spitfire with me for all time.

"I'm Brittany." I said softly, extending my hand.

She smiled and took my hand in hers. I swear to whatever God is out there, I felt sparks. "I'm Santana and we're gonna be best friends."

I knew right then that I loved her. And so, I took the punishment that she certainly did not deserve and gained a best friend. I protected her just as she had protected me. It's what you do for love.

xxxx

I was ten when my father first started coming into my room at night. He had lost his job and had taken to drinking heavily. My mother had picked up extra shifts at the hospital to help make ends meet.

I was not a smart child. But even I knew that daddies weren't supposed to treat daughters the way mine was treating me. At first I cried and told him he was hurting me but he didn't stop. I finally learned to close my eyes tightly and pretend I was somewhere, anywhere else. Often I would imagine I was running at the park with Santana and laughing. I could almost block him out completely, almost. Each time, after my father was finished with me, he would cry and tell me how sorry he was and how much he loved me. He begged me not to tell my mother because it would hurt her feelings. He said I had to be a good girl and not make my mother sad.

It's a terrible thing to be able to say I'm not certain if my mother would have really cared enough to stop my father. She had enough to deal with, now being responsible for the sole income for the family. The few times I tried to talk to her, about anything really, she just shoved past me and told me not to bother her. If I were too persistent, I would get a smack in the face to discourage me.

I began sleeping over at Santana's more and more during this time. Her parents were nice and Santana's bedroom was big and pretty. They seemed genuinely happy to have me around and her father never hurt me like mine did.

I never told Santana what went on at home. I was afraid she would look at me differently and she was the one person I needed more than anything. I needed her constant friendship and affection in my otherwise shattered childhood. Santana would have been upset and frightened and I didn't want that. In some ways, she was the innocent, naïve one, even with her tough demeanor, and I wasn't about to shatter that. I loved her.

xxxx

It was this same year, after my father discovered his new interest in me, that I was placed in classes for the "special" kids. I was never particularly good at school but around this time it became painfully obvious to all around me that I was falling further and further behind in classes. Lying awake at night listening for the doorknob to turn did not exactly help my focus during the day in school.

When a teacher called on me to answer a question, if I didn't know the answer, which I often didn't, I learned that if I just pretended and daydreamed like I did with my father that the teacher would eventually move on.

Sometimes I would voice what I was seeing in my head when I separated myself from what was going on around me. That always earned me snickers from the other students and funny looks from the teachers and the occasional sympathetic nod. Except from Santana, she would smile at me and if close enough, reach for my hand to give it a squeeze. It was as if I made perfect sense to her and everyone else around us were the crazy ones. I loved her even more for it.

Santana tried to help me with my schoolwork. When I was with her, I was able to grasp bits and pieces of the assignments but when it came time to perform in class, it was as if I had never seen the material before. The other kids would laugh at my low scores and crazy answers. Santana just smiled and held my hand. And occasionally stuck her foot out to trip whichever kid had laughed the loudest. And there was that one time when she stabbed Dave Karofsky with his own pencil.

xxxx

I was thirteen when Santana's parents split up. She had just turned fourteen and was her usual stoic, strong self. My own parents were even more absent than usual and I was mostly raising myself the best I could. My grandparents had passed away and left my father a rather large sum of money. It seemed all their troubles were over and my mother quit her job at the hospital. They traveled and seemed to forget they even had a daughter. I wouldn't see my parents for days, sometimes weeks, at a time and since I didn't know how to cook, I would be left to scrounge around for whatever was left in the house that wasn't stale or didn't require any real effort to prepare. But when they weren't home, my father wasn't coming into my room so it wasn't an entirely horrible existence. While I was alone, I at least had some peace. Those were my two choices really, being at peace in my loneliness, or being torn apart when my parents were around. It's no choice a young girl should ever have to make.

I couldn't tell Santana. She was upset about her father leaving and didn't need to worry about me being on my own as well. As far as she knew, my parents just left early and came home late or were off hidden in some other part of our house. I wasn't going hungry and crouching in my closet at night because I was afraid of being alone. And when my parents were actually home, the whippings didn't hurt and I didn't mind my father coming into my room at night. At least I tried to convince myself of that.

For Santana, I hid it all because she needed me. Her world was splitting apart because her father was leaving. She felt abandoned and she was afraid, her tough exterior cracking. And she needed me. So, I hid what was happening in my own home and when she scrambled up the tree and into my room at night crying, I just held her and let her cry, once again thankful my parents weren't home for my father to come knocking. I didn't tell her that I too was dying inside. I protected her and gave her a safe place to break. It's what you do for love.

xxxx

I realized I was in love with Santana when we were fifteen. I didn't just love her as a best friend; I was in love with her. I had been feeling strange things around her for a few months and I didn't quite understand what those feelings were. I only knew that I wanted to have closer contact than just linked pinkies and hugs. I had dreams of holding her close in my bed and making her feel safe and loved, even if I really had no idea what to do with her in my bed. I just wanted to love her, to make her feel loved. In return I would feel safe and loved, I was certain of it. Not like when my father slipped quietly into my room and shut the door.

Santana protected me and kept me safe at school, surely she would as well in my bedroom. Where my father left me feeling scared and empty, Santana would fill me and make me feel safe and complete. She was the only person who ever made me feel loved. This would be no different. Santana could save me and show me true love.

I was right. The night I finally had the nerve to touch her, she reciprocated fully. I was scared to death and I think she could tell. She had snuck into my room and was almost in tears as she recounted yet another hurtful encounter with her father and with Puck, both in one day. I knew Santana was insecure. I was the only one who knew. She was open with me and let me see the parts of her that no one else could. That's how I knew she loved me too.

So, as she sat on my bed, tears streaming down her cheeks and told me about the latest rejection from Puck and the harsh lecture from her father, I took her face in my trembling hands and kissed her. I poured all the love I had been hiding into that one kiss. I think she was stunned, I really do.

She looked up at me with wide eyes. When I whispered that I thought she was the most beautiful and wonderful person I had ever met, her eyes filled with fresh tears again. I thumbed her tears away as they slipped down her cheeks and leaned in to press my lips to hers again. She didn't stop me. In fact, she kissed me back. It was almost desperate the way Santana whimpered and pulled me closer. We were in fact exactly what the other needed.

I felt alive and I wanted to show her exactly how she made me feel. We spent the night awkwardly exploring each other's bodies for the first time. When we finally collapsed, sated and spent, I told her I loved her. That I was in love with her. She looked at me with an almost pained expression and I knew she couldn't voice the sentiment. I knew she returned it but that she just wasn't ready to tell me that she loved me too. I understood. So I just gathered her into my arms and held her. I stroked her hair as she began to cry again. I didn't press her to reply as I again told her that I loved her and that I always would. She didn't have to say it back; I knew she loved me. I didn't need to hear it. I wanted to hear it but I didn't need to. I let her revel in the safety of my love and commitment without having to make herself vulnerable in return.

And in the months to come when we would untangle ourselves from each other and the sheets and she would whisper that she loved me, my heart soared. Even if it was just between the two of us and no one else could ever know, it was enough for me. I would gladly take her private declarations and not push for anything more. It's what you do for love.

xxxx

I was sixteen when I confronted Santana about still fooling around with Puck. She and I had been together since that fateful night she showed up crying in my bedroom. We had tentatively made love and I had never felt so alive. I knew without a doubt that Santana loved me. But I also knew without a doubt that I was not enough for her. She needed acceptance and popularity.

While I didn't openly threaten that acceptance and popularity, I didn't exactly strengthen it either. Santana always had to be on guard to protect me and downplay anything off the wall I might say or do. I was a full time job. I knew I could be exhausting.

I tried to make it up to her when she would slip into my room at night. With my parents still absent most of the time, we made good use of having the house to ourselves. On the nights we spent together, I tried to show her just how much I appreciated her love and protection. And I know that she felt safe with me. I saw the side of her that no one else did, not even Puck. But I also understood that I wasn't enough to keep her happy and satisfied. I was too much really. But still not enough.

Santana needed the carefree and meaningless time with Puck. Only the longer it went on, the more I began to fear it wasn't so meaningless or carefree after all. I knew she didn't particularly love Puck. And he certainly didn't love her, not if the slew of panties he collected from every other attractive or semi attractive girl at McKinley could show. She was with him to protect her status and to also keep me safe. But I also knew she did actually enjoyed her time with him. That's the part I couldn't figure out, why? Did he make her feel more special than I did? I poured my heart and soul out to her and Puck just fucked her and asked her to lock the door on the way out. And she put up with it.

The worst part was that she thought I didn't know. She thought I was oblivious to her fling with Puck. I'm not certain if she thought I was just too dumb to realize what she was doing or if she thought I just didn't care. But she legitimately thought I had no idea that she was sleeping with Puck behind my back.

Santana would arrive in my room at night smelling like sex and sweat and Puck and she thought I didn't notice. I noticed; I always noticed. But I never said anything until one night when she showed up and I could tell she was upset and I was feeling oddly brave and proud of myself having warmed up a microwave dinner without starting a fire.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "Did you catch Puck with that volleyball player again?"

Her dark eyes widened and her jaw dropped. I smiled sadly and shrugged my shoulders.

"I know about you two." I whispered. "I'm not very smart Santana, but I'm not completely stupid. I know you've been sleeping with him. I've always known. And I understand. I'm a lot to take care of so I don't blame you for needing a break from me. But…he doesn't treat you right. He's even more stupid than me if he doesn't realize how perfect you are. He'll never find anyone more wonderful or amazing. But he keeps looking. And you don't stop him. I understand San; I know you don't think you deserve someone's commitment, maybe because your dad left. But you do. Puck is an idiot. And he doesn't deserve you. But I understand. I do. I understand why you go back to him. You have to keep us safe. And you don't think you deserve better."

My speech ended in a whisper with my eyes staring at the carpet between my feet. She reached a hand and lifted my chin to meet her gaze. She gave me a watery smile before scooting in closer to me.

"You're not stupid Britt." She said softly. "You're my best friend. And you know I love you. I just…I need more. I need Puck. I need him if for no other reason than to keep us both safe. If anything happened to you…I'd never forgive myself Brittany. I have to be with Puck to protect us both. We're the top couple in this school. No one would dare mess with me and in return, no one will dare mess with you. I'm doing this for you! You understand, don't you Britt?"

I suddenly felt my own tears pooling. I had hoped that once I confronted her with her behavior of running around with Puck behind my back that Santana would beg my forgiveness and declare her undying love for me. But I meant what I said; I truly did understand why she was with Puck, her image and my protection. Santana and I weren't really even a couple so I had no right to question her. Not really.

I could tell my silence was beginning to frighten her.

"Please, B. Say something. Tell me you do understand. Brittany, look at me please!" Santana cried. "Brittany, tell me you still love me, please!"

I looked at her. And I knew without a doubt I could tell her that I still loved her. And I did, I loved her. Even knowing what she was doing with Puck and sometimes Matt and that baseball player I can never remember the name of, I loved her and would do anything for her. I could tell her I loved her but it would mean more if I showed her.

So, I kissed her. I kissed her and held her tightly as she clung to me even more desperately than our first time together. I can't find the words to describe how much I loved hearing my name on her lips as she climaxed. Not Puck, or Matt, or Mr. Baseball what's his face, my name.

And so, as I pulled the blankets around us and held her close, I knew I would continue to take her back no matter whom she slept with. As long as she came back to me, that was all that mattered. I knew she was protecting me from the vicious high school hierarchy. I appreciated it, I really did. And I pretended that my heart didn't break every time I saw them together in the halls or every time she scampered into my window with the smell of him all over her. It's what you do for love.

xxxx

It was that same year, just a month later actually, when I decided to give Santana's lifestyle a try. Oh, I knew Santana was the only love for me but if she was having sex and enjoying it, why couldn't I? After all, sometimes sex was fun; well sex with Santana was fun, so surely it could be with a guy as well.

I decided to talk this over with Santana and for the first time, I couldn't exactly place the look that crossed her face. She wasn't happy but I think she understood that if she got to be with other people then it was only fair that I did too, but only with guys that she deemed "ok". The only two guys who qualified were Mike Chang, who is without a doubt the nicest and sweetest guy on the planet, and Kurt Hummel who is well…gay, so perfectly safe. That little romance was short lived to say the least. And Mike was nice but I think Santana knew I could never fall in love with him and that secretly he had a thing for Tina. I think that's why she picked those two for my chosen mates.

Santana still had Puck and that one time with Finn but we always came back to each other. I'm not exactly sure how I got the tramp label when I had only really had sex, voluntary sex, with Santana and Mike but it helped keep rumors about the two of us down so I didn't complain. The make out lists were circulating but that was mostly for fun, I didn't sleep with them. But the list also helped keep rumors down so again, I didn't complain. I didn't like it but I didn't complain. I allowed it for Santana.

xxxx

I've never been particularly smart. Especially not in things like school, or books, or words really. But I'm not stupid either. It just takes me a little longer to grasp things and when I do finally grasp them, sometimes I just see them a little differently. And anytime I voice what I see, I'm rewarded with snickers and eye rolling.

But even so, I know Santana. I get her. She may be the only thing in this world that I do get completely, just another reason I'm convinced we were made for each other. And because I get her, I can tell when she's afraid or upset and when she's trying to hide it from the rest of the world. But she doesn't hide it from me and I think she knows that. So when Santana was clenching her jaw slightly with her brow furrowed, I knew she was upset. To anyone else, she just looked like her usual hard self. But I saw the way her left eye twitched and her breath was just slightly shaky.

I knew she was upset with me for letting the nature of our relationship slip to some of the Glee members. She didn't yell or scold me. She just sighed and I could tell she was already plotting how to downplay the situation and keep the rumor mill from flourishing. Sectionals were coming up, surely that was more important than the nature of our relationship that I had let slip.

As it turned out, it wasn't one of the Glee kids we had to worry about. They kept quiet about it. Instead, it was Dave Karofsky who threatened our safety and position at the top of the heap. And he only found out because I was begging Santana's forgiveness in the hallway again after school. She hadn't said anything about it all day and I was starting to worry. I don't know what he was doing hanging out in the halls anyway; he was supposed to be at hockey practice already.

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, Santana's eyes went wide and I heard a locker slam behind us. Karofsky was watching us with a strange look on his face. He's always had a thing for Santana but she wouldn't even give him the time of day. And now, he had this juicy information to hold over our heads and I could tell the tough front she was putting up in front of him was just that, a front.

Karofsky leered at us as he sauntered up to us. "Ladies," he said with a smirk. "I never figured you for dykes. Does Puckerman know about this? Not quite the stud he thinks he is huh?"

Santana's signature smirk was in place and she took a step in front of me, positioning me safely behind her. Karofsky laughed and stepped even closer to her to the point they were mere inches apart. From my position behind her I saw her jaw muscles clenching again.

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about or what you think you heard…"

"Oh don't play with me. You and I both know what your little girlfriend here let slip." Karofsky interrupted. Santana hated being interrupted. "And now that I think about it, it's really pretty obvious. I'm surprised I didn't see sooner. Seems Hummel isn't the only homo around here after all."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Please, who's going to believe you over us? In case you've forgotten, I am kind of head bitch around here and what I say goes. And you are dangerously close to taking top place on my list meathead."

Karofsky laughed and glanced over Santana's shoulder at me before returning his gaze to her. "And just how many people do you think are going to have to come up to genius here and ask her before she forgets what you've told her to say and spills it all over again?"

Unfortunately he did have a point. My memory had never been my strong point and Santana and I both knew it. I saw her jaw muscles clenching and unclenching again. Karofsky took our silence as a sign to continue.

"I think we can probably come up with some sort of an arrangement though if you want to keep this quiet." He dropped his eyes to Santana's chest and licked his lips. "Otherwise, be ready to come out of the closet…dyke."

Santana's shoulders slumped just slightly but she kept her head held high. "And just what kind of an arrangement did you have in mind?" She scoffed as she spit his word choice back at him.

The sight of Karofsky raking his eyes over Santana made my stomach roil. "You're going to be my bitch Lopez. And if you satisfy me, I won't make your girlfriend join in."

Santana visibly stiffened. "You're not going to touch her. This is between you and me Karofsky. Besides…" she leaned in closer to him, a menacing scowl on her face. "I don't think you can handle me, let alone both of us. Now get out of my face."

"Tomorrow, after your little glee club, meet me in the boys locker room." Karofsky said with a smirk. "If you're not there, I can personally guarantee this whole school will know all about your butchness. And if you think Hummel has reason to bitch and moan, just wait until I'm finished with your girl."

We stood silently as Karofsky sauntered down the hallway laughing, Santana still positioned in front of me.

"San…" I said weakly.

"No." She cut me off with a raised hand and wouldn't meet my eye. "Not now. Let's just get out of here."

We silently walked out to her car. It became painfully obvious that she was not driving us back to her house but to mine.

"I'm so sorry Santana." I whispered. "Say something, please."

Santana exhaled as if she was exhausted and had the weight of the world on her shoulders. "I'll take care of it B. Don't worry. He won't tell anyone, I'll make sure of it."

My eyes widened and I felt my mouth go dry. "But…but you don't have to!" I cried. "Why not just let him say what he wants? Would it be so bad to finally not have to hide and wait until no one is around? I don't want to hide how I feel about you San. Maybe this is a good thing!"

"Damn it Brittany!" Santana slammed her hands against the steering wheel causing me to jump. "Of course this is bad! I've worked too hard to get us to the top to let Karofsky ruin it for us. We can't be seen as dykes Brittany. You've seen what happens to Kurt every single day! I can't let that happen. To me or to you, I won't! I'll take care of things, just like I always do."

I slumped back into my seat as we neared my house. "I'm sorry San. I just wasn't thinking. I didn't mean to…"

"You never mean to B." Santana said, almost coldly. "You never mean any of your fuck ups. Now just let me fix it like I always do and lets just stop talking about it."

The car rolled to a stop in my driveway and my stomach lurched again when I saw my father's car parked there. It had been weeks since I'd seen him so I was fairly certain he would be paying me a visit later in my bedroom. I desperately wanted Santana to take me back to her house.

"San…"

"Please get out Brittany. I just need some time alone to think."

My insides froze at hearing that and I nodded and silently slipped out of the car. I heard her speeding away before I had even made it up the front porch steps.

Later that night, after my father had come in and shut my door and told me how he'd missed me, after he had his fill and left again, I got a text from Santana. I was just cleaning myself up when I heard my phone vibrate.

Hey B. Sorry I got so upset. U Ok? Forgive me?

I stared at the phone for a solid two minutes before I could even force my brain to work up a response. No, I wasn't ok. Santana and I had been "outed" at school, which I didn't understand how it could be a bad thing. She had gotten mad at me and didn't want to be around me. And my father…well, he was a little overzealous and now I was feeling rather sore so no, I was not ok.

Of course I forgive you. I'm sorry too.

Not thirty seconds later Santana responded. Want me to come over?

I did. But I also didn't. I never let Santana come over when my father was home even though I didn't think he would come in my room if she were here. He wouldn't dare to risk someone finding out he wasn't the upstanding guy people thought. I didn't think he would bother me again that night but I couldn't be sure. If he ever did come in and try to hurt Santana I wouldn't be able to live with myself.

No, it's ok. I'm just going to sleep.

I closed my phone and tossed it aside before waiting for a response. I was afraid she would try to convince me to let her come over or tell me she was coming anyway. I shouldn't have worried. The text came a minute or so later and I tried to ignore it, I really did. But it was Santana and I could never ignore Santana.

Ok then. Sleep well. I'll pick u up in the morning. Love u.

I felt tears pooling in my eyes as I quickly responded that I loved her too. I did. I loved her and I hated that I had gotten her into this mess with Karofsky because of my stupidity. Why couldn't I have just kept my mouth shut like she always told me to? I knew I had to think of some way to get her out of this mess. I couldn't let her go through with this. I knew the feeling of having unwanted hands touching me and I refused to allow her to ever feel that. I loved her too much.

xxxx

The following day was the longest of my life, I was certain of it. Santana picked me up the same time as always and I slipped silently into her car. If she noticed that I was moving stiffly from the visit from my father, she didn't mention it. She did reach and squeeze my hand as we drove. I finally met her gaze and she smiled at me. I think she was trying to encourage me that everything would actually work out just fine. I tried to smile back but from the look in her eye, I knew the smile didn't really convince her.

The day passed somewhat in a blur, even if it was a slow one. I moped through the halls and didn't even try to pay attention in class. Santana however kept her tough exterior and acted as if nothing was wrong. She shoved a freshman out of our way when I almost tripped over him. She led me to all my classes since I couldn't seem to get my head on right to figure out the right direction.

Even in Glee I was abnormally still. I loved Glee even if I was afraid to admit it. Dancing has always been freeing for me and the music just flowed through me. But I couldn't summon the energy or the interest. The other kids just gave me questioning looks and Santana glared at them in a dare to cross me. I couldn't believe how calm and normal she seemed knowing what was coming as soon as Glee ended.

While I was outwardly even more dazed and confused than normal, inside I had been thinking and planning all day. Thinking and trying to find my way to class just did not mix so I was content to allow Santana to guide me. Finally Glee came to an end.

When I saw Santana slowly packing her things and falling far behind the others on the way out, I finally saw just how nervous she was about meeting Karofsky. Santana should have been an actress. The calm show she put on all day was deserving of one of those shiny gold statue awards, you know, the naked guy or the bird, or even that horn looking thing. She was terrified and I was the only one who could see it. And I was immediately positive I was doing the right thing.

"San?" I called softly. She turned and seemed surprised to find we were alone in the room.

"Yeah B?" She called with a small smile.

I stepped closer to her and reached out my pinky for her to link. She glanced to the door but then quickly moved closer to me. I met her halfway and instead of linking hands, I threw my arms around her. I can't say for certain, but I think I heard a soft sob escape her throat as she hugged me back. Maybe it was just my imagination.

I inched us closer to the empty storage room where the plastic chairs were kept. She noticed we were moving and she pulled back slightly.

"Britt, no. You know I have to go meet Karofsky."

"I know!" I cried desperately. "I know you do. I just want to give you something to think about so you don't have to be thinking about him. I want you to remember me and that I love you."

The desperation was clear in my voice and on my face and she nodded as she allowed me to pull her into the empty closet. As soon as we were inside, I kissed her fiercely. I did want her to remember my kiss. We were both a little breathless when we finally separated.

"B," she said hoarsely, dropping her head onto my shoulder. "I have to go."

"No!" I cried, shaking my head. "No, you don't. Don't go. Please?"

"Brittany, we've been through this. I'm doing this for us. It's nothing I haven't done before; I'll be fine. I love you. You know I have to do this."

I sighed and nodded. Even more determined than before. "I know San. And I love you, more than anything. So you have to know that I can't let you do this, I'll do it instead."

Before my words even registered, I shoved her further into the closet and stepped out, shutting and locking the door behind me. For good measure, I slid a chair under the handle of the door to keep it from turning.

"Brittany!" I heard her screaming from inside the closet and pounding on the door. "Brittany, no, don't you do this! You let me out of here! Brittany!"

I leaned my forehead against the door as she banged on it from the other side, feeling the vibration. "I love you Santana." I said softly before I turned to leave.

Santana continued to bang on the door and I was almost afraid it wouldn't stand against her; nothing else could ever stand up against my girl for long. But as an almost feral scream ripped from her throat and a resounding thud was heard against the door, I knew she had flung her whole body against it to try to break it down. If it didn't give way then, I was certain it wouldn't. I nodded in satisfaction as she continued to pound the door and moved toward the hallway.

I shut the door to the choir room behind me to hopefully muffle her cries. I straightened my spine and made my way to the boys' locker room.

xxxx

Karofsky was pacing in the locker room when I arrived; his back was to me. At the sound of my entrance, he spun to face me. His disappointment was clear as soon as he realized I wasn't Santana.

"What are you doing here?" He asked frowning.

I felt my courage melting but I cleared my throat and tried to appear confident like Santana had taught me.

"I'm changing the…arrangement. You won't touch Santana. You can have me instead, or nothing at all. We both know Santana wouldn't let you do what you really want to anyway." I felt a small spark of pride at how my voice didn't waver.

"Oh yeah?" He sneered. "And just what won't Santana let me do? If I remember correctly, I'm the one calling the shots here."

I shrugged slightly. "Anything you want. You know Santana would never let you get rough…well…I won't stop you. Santana could take you if she wanted and we both know it. I can't, I know that. So you can do whatever you want and I won't be able to stop you."

Karofsky stepped closer to me and looked me up and down. He didn't quite have the look of appreciation he had whenever he looked at Santana, or Quinn even, but it was enough to make my hands shake. He kept advancing on me and before I realized it, I was pinned to the lockers with him flush against me.

"Yeah, ok." He said, almost breathlessly. "But since you changed the arrangement, so am I. You're my bitch indefinitely."

My brow furrowed as I tried to think of what "indefinitely" meant. My confusion must have shown on my face because Karofsky laughed.

"It means, retard, that meeting just once ain't gonna cut it. You'll come to me any time I want, as many times as I want. And you'll keep it quiet from your bitch bodyguard. Otherwise, the deal is off and I'll take what I want from her and expose you two dykes."

My stomach dropped. I would have to meet him again; I hadn't planned on that. Keeping Santana from being exposed would be worth it though and I nodded my agreement.

Unfortunately, the next few minutes were not blurred at all. He clumsily pawed at my clothing until I was the one exposed, on the cold tile locker room floor. I whimpered in pain as he first entered me. He seemed to get a thrill out the sound and didn't bother being gentle as he pumped in and out of me.

As he grunted and began to sweat, I once again let my mind wander as I did anytime my father came into my room. I thought of Santana. I thought of our first time, how she clung to me. I thought of our most recent time, all smiles and soft touches. I thought about curling up with her arms around me after and her soft, warm breath on my skin.

My lack of attention to his valiant efforts did not go unnoticed. "Are you thinking about her?" He panted. "Don't think about her when you're with me bitch."

Oddly enough, the biting sting of the slap across my face didn't register as much as the sound did. It echoed throughout the locker room. Again, he seemed to get a thrill out of the sound of my whimper and by the time he was finished with me, my lip was split and bleeding and I had handprints on various parts of my body. There was also an aching pain between my legs that was unfortunately familiar.

Karofsky pulled himself up and adjusted his clothing. Before he left he kicked my Cheerio's uniform toward me. "I'll be in touch for our next little get together." He said scoffing. And then he was gone.

I was still for a few moments after he left. Looking back, I suppose I was in shock. But then I thought of caramel skin and soft brown eyes and I slowly dressed. I didn't feel as empty when I remembered I had done this for her. I did this for love. I would keep Santana safe from him.