A.N. Okay, this is something I've been working on for quite a while but I've been keeping it under wraps. This is mainly a Santana story. Eventually it will be Brittana with a side of Faberry and a huge dose of Quinntana friendship. I hope you enjoy it!

XX

Long, slender fingers wrapped themselves a little tighter around the beer bottle cradled in her hands as a rumble of thunder nearly shook the foundation of her building. The lightning that quickly followed caused her dark eyes to wince and her hand to bring the bottle to her lips quickly.

Santana hated thunderstorms.

She loved the rain though. Something about it was calming and soothing and they usually helped lull her into sleep that too often eluded her, but the storms were enough to make her crazy. She could never sleep through the thunder, hating the way her heart always pounded in her chest with each flash of lightning streaking across the dark sky.

And of course she stubbornly refused to believe it had anything to do with the worst night of her life. She reasoned that lots of people were afraid of storms. Not that she was afraid of them…she just hated the sleep disruption.

Or at least that's what she told herself.

She stood from her chair and leaned against the railing, both palms cradling the warm bottle carefully as she leaned her forearms against the sleek metal railing. She stretched her spine, smiling when she felt several satisfying little pops of her vertebrae.

It was late, but Santana didn't really care. She hadn't been much of a sleeper lately. She hadn't been much of a sleeper for months if she was totally honest with herself. Since the night her entire family had been taken away from her.

She remembered the night like it was yesterday.

The way her mother had screamed, the smell of blood in the air, the way her father gripped her hand before he slipped away. It still took her breath away to think about it all.

It had been a rainy, stormy night similar to the one she was observing on her patio. Her parents had been in the city to visit and she'd taken them to a Broadway show. All it had taken was one moment of forgetfulness to change her life forever.

She'd forgotten her purse in the theater and had told her parents to go on without her and she'd meet them at the restaurant down the block. Her father left her his umbrella and joked with her mother how he'd keep them both dry under his coat and at the time it made Santana roll her eyes at their cuteness.

Ten minutes later it was like her worst nightmare unfolded before her eyes.

Her parents. Her mother and father being attacked. Killed. Eaten. Right before her eyes. She screamed causing the assailants to run, but not before she caught sight of the fangs glistening with blood in the moonlight. They had fangs.

She and her mother had sipped a few cocktails at the theater bar before the show. It was nothing. But she knew she must have been so far beyond tipsy to see fangs in their mouths. Because people didn't have fangs.

If they had really been people, she thought to herself.

She shook her head to rid her thoughts of the fangs and the blood and the rain and the way the humidity that night had caused the stink of copper to hang in the air around her as she cradled her mother's head in her lap as the sirens drew near.

"Now I'll never fucking sleep."

She dropped the beer bottle into the trash before heading back inside to retrieve another and she snagged a hoodie from the back of a chair on her way back outside.

She glanced down at her cell phone, balancing dangerously close to the edge of the railing, when it beeped at her, signaling a text message.

Blu. One hour. Get your ass out of the house.

Xo-Q

She smiled in spite of her surly, depressed mood and mulled over her options as she yanked the hoodie sleeves over her chilly arms. She could stay in and drink miserably alone, or go out with some friends and at least pretend to be a well-adjusted adult.

She shrugged. At least at the bar I can score some free drinks, she thought with a smirk.

See you there, bitch

-S

XX

"Miss Lopez?"

Santana glanced up, finding a man in his twenties standing across the table from her a few days later.

"Yes," she replied warily.

"I'm Collin Davis," he replied with a bright smile, reaching into his coat to give her a card. As soon as she flipped it over and read the scrawl on the front she scowled.

"You're from HARP."

He nodded. "I am."

HARP was a company that seemed hell-bent on getting her to join their ranks, claiming they knew the truth about how her parents had been killed and how she could fight back.

She'd had about enough.

It had started a few months ago. A man approached her, telling her he had been sent from a company that could put a stop to the kind of attacks like the one that had taken Santana's parents from her. She'd caused a scene, furious that someone had approached her so totally insensitively so soon after her parents had been killed.

She was asked never to return to Starbucks ever again.

"Didn't your mothers ever teach you guys that no literally means no?" she told him snidely, smirking when his choir-boy grin faded. She really wasn't in the mood to deal with this today. The way these guys seemed to know too much and insinuate even more was enough to make her insane.

He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry if we've been rather…persistent. But we refuse to believe that someone like you would turn us down."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she growled, instantly going on the defensive. "You can't wave money and cars and clothes in my face and expect me to swoon."

"I'm not referring to your financial situation," he told her with another tentative smile. "We know your parents left you with a substantial trust fund." He glanced around to be sure no one was in earshot. "I was referring to the manner in which they were taken from you."

"And like I told the last guy, I was drunk and I'm not even sure what I saw that night," she told him with her nastiest glare. She pointed a finger at him when he moved the chair out across the table from her. "Don't sit."

He sat down anyways, completely ignoring her rapidly darkening expression and he leaned in closer to her and lowered his voice. "We have proof that what you saw that night was real, Miss Lopez. And they didn't need to be needlessly taken from you. They could have been spared that night."

"Don't you dare say they were taken from me," she snarled, slapping her palm on the table, startling him and several people around them. She took a breath to calm herself down and met his gaze. "You saying they were taken implies that they can be given back and we both know that'll never happen. They were murdered."

"Forgive me," he told her softly, realizing he'd pushed too far and he stood up again.

"Not likely," she told him, practically growling and itching to pounce and knock his teeth out. "I think you need to leave."

He nodded. "Just give it some thought."

"Yeah, I'll get right on that," she replied sarcastically, not meeting his gaze.

She set her gaze back on her book and watched from the corner of her eye as he walked off. Her eyes suddenly caught sight of a familiar blonde mop of shaggy hair and she inhaled deeply through her nose, knowing she needed to calm down before her friend arrived at the table.

Quinn took the seat opposite her and immediately glanced behind her where the HARP agent had just disappeared out into the snowy New York afternoon.

"Who was that?" Quinn asked as she got herself settled in the warmth of the coffee shop, shrugging her coat off and draping it over the back of her chair. She studied Santana carefully. "What's wrong?"

Santana gave a nonchalant shake of her head and sipped her mocha. "It was no one."

"Someone else asking for your number?" The corners of her lips were turned up in a teasing smile but something about those hazel eyes seemed troubled and Santana picked up on in right away.

"What is it?" Santana wondered, propping her chin in her hand.

Quinn's eyes widened and she shook her head quickly, her expression slightly panicked. "What?"

Something about Quinn's reaction had Santana instantly uneasy. "What's with the face? You okay?"

"It's the face I was born with," Quinn replied with a nervous laugh.

The laugh had another alarm bell going off in Santana's head. She frowned at her friend's strange behavior and she knew without a doubt that Quinn was hiding something from her. They'd known each other for twenty years, and with that kind of time came familiarity. "Are you alright?"

"I met someone," Quinn blurted out quickly, spitting out the absolute first thing to come to mind. She sighed like it was a relief to have that out in the open.

Santana instantly perked up, relieved to have gotten to the bottom of her best friend's behavior, and her eyes turned inquisitive on a dime, shining with mirth.

Suddenly Quinn wished she'd said anything else.

"Who is she?" Santana asked immediately.

Quinn sighed, knowing her friend would never stop until she spilled enough so she decided to do things the easy way. "Rachel Berry."

"Broadway Rachel Berry?" Santana asked, looked rather impressed when Quinn nodded. "Wicked, right?" Quinn nodded again, this time her lips turning into a bit of a grin. "Was it the green makeup that won you over in the end?"

"Shut up," Quinn replied, giggling in spite of herself.

Santana smirked. "If you're telling me about her it must mean that you're kind of serious. Right?"

Quinn shrugged at that, her smile turning rather shy. "We're exclusive if that's what you mean."

"When can I meet her?" Santana asked. Quinn's eyes narrowed instantly and it made Santana laugh. "It's not like I'm gonna steal her. I know I'm hot, but she's really not my type."

"You said that about Ashley," Quinn reminded her with a playful glare.

"Oh please," Santana dismissed with a wave. "You didn't even like her to begin with. You only asked her out because I said I would if you didn't. Not my fault she wanted all up on this. Can't help how hot I am."

"You should just date yourself," Quinn replied with a roll of her eyes.

"Ha ha, Fabray," Santana grumbled with a smirk. "So really, when can I meet her?"

"Promise you'll be nice?" Quinn asked.

"When am I ever not nice?" Santana replied instantly. They both paused. "Don't answer that. I'll be nice."

Quinn studied her carefully for a moment and nodded slowly. "Drinks tomorrow at Blu?"

"I'll be there," Santana replied. "Besides, it's not like I have much else going on these days."

Quinn frowned at that and searched her best friend's eyes. "Maybe it's time you changed that." She hoped she'd chosen her words carefully enough. This particular subject was a rather sore spot for the girl seated across from her and Quinn was never really sure how Santana would react. To her surprise Santana nodded.

"You're right."

Quinn was practically beaming she was so happy. "Rachel has some very cute friends if you want me to hook you up. Oh, and we're hiring right now at the firm. Want me to get you in touch with some people?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Princess, one step at a time," Santana ordered, her hands coming up and waiving Quinn down a little. "I'm not going to even consider dating someone until I have a job. Let's start there."

"Do you want me to set you up?" Quinn asked excitedly. "We have some openings in our division and you have a business degree. You'd fit right in."

Santana nodded slowly, smiling at her friend's enthusiasm. "Sure."

"This is gonna be so much fun…" Quinn began rambling, which allowed Santana to daydream, and the rest of the afternoon was spent quietly chatting away in the warm confines of a small coffeehouse on a cold, snowy day.

XX

"Fucking snow," Santana grumbled as she stepped into the rather small lobby area of Blu, a small, intimate, but popular bar that Quinn and Santana loved to frequent.

She spotted Quinn instantly, facing the door, snuggled up to a small brunette at a table in the corner. She waved when the blonde caught sight of her and made her way over to them slowly, bobbing and weaving around the waitresses and other patrons.

"Hi, sorry I'm late," Santana greeted as Quinn pulled her into a warm hug.

"Hi, sweetie," Quinn replied with a bright smile. "Rachel, this is my best friend, Santana Lopez. Santana, this is Rachel Berry."

"Hi," Santana greeted Rachel, who had turned to meet her with a radiant smile. It actually managed to catch Santana off guard. She'd seen Wicked with Quinn and knew the girl was an epic talent, but to see her up close without the green makeup she was stunning.

"Hello, Santana," Rachel greeted warmly. "It's so nice to meet you. Quinn's told me all about you."

Santana smirked in Quinn's direction. "It's all lies."

Quinn glared back playfully. "You wish it was."

"It's really nice to meet you, Rachel," Santana told the shorter girl with a smile as she shrugged off her coat and draped it over the spare chair at the table. The three girls took their seats and Santana waved the waitress over.

"A martini please," she ordered softly. She turned to her tablemates. "You two good?" When they both nodded, Santana nodded at the waitress and turned back to the two girls. "So how did you two meet?"

"A fundraiser," Quinn replied quickly, just as Rachel replied, "Backstage."

Santana gazed at them both, one slim eyebrow raised in question as they both seemed to blanch and stammer a bit at the other's answer until Quinn cleared her throat. "Backstage at a fundraiser."

"Exactly." Rachel nodded, and exchanged a rather flustered smile with Quinn.

"Mm hmm," Santana hummed, still watching them warily. Something very strange was going on with her blonde friend, but it wasn't the time or the place for it so she let it go.

"So, what do you do, Santana?" Rachel asked politely, steering the conversation away from the obvious tension.

Santana smiled a little when Quinn cringed and mouthed 'sorry' to her. "Actually I'm not working at the moment."

"Oh," Rachel replied. She shot a rather panicked look in Quinn's direction and smiled awkwardly at Santana. "Sorry, I didn't know."

Santana waved her off, easing any would-be tension. "I'm choosing not to work right now. It's not like I don't have offers. In fact I might be working with Quinn soon."

Recognition suddenly brightened Rachel's eyes and she shot a relieved look to Quinn. "Oh so she knows? Thank goodness."

"I know what?" Santana asked, seriously wondering what the hell was going on.

Before Rachel could say another word Quinn jumped so abruptly that she knocked her drink over, narrowly missing Santana's 300 dollar shoes and making all three girls jump up in shock.

"Quinn, what the hell?"

"I'm sorry, I thought I felt something crawling on me," Quinn apologized.

Rachel squealed and jumped back from the table. "What is it?"

"Relax, sweetheart, I think it was Santana's shoe," Quinn coaxed her gently.

A waitress came over with some extra napkins and helped the girls clean up the spilled drink.

Santana watched Quinn with confused eyes and once they were settled again she resumed their conversation. "What is it that I know?"

"Hmm?" Quinn wondered, her eyes falling on Santana. She traced the conversation back until recognition flickered in her eyes and she shook her head. "Oh, just that we're hiring."

Santana allowed her eyes to trail to Rachel who seemed to be just as confused as she was about Quinn's behavior. "That makes no sense. What the hell is going on, Q?"

Quinn visibly blanched. "Just…" She sighed like she was getting ready to come clean about something and met Santana's eyes. "I told Rachel I would let her set you up after you got a job."

"Yes," Rachel chimed in stiffly, her eyes on Quinn for a long moment before settling on Santana again with a bright smile. "I thought that part was a secret."

"Are you two high?" Santana asked seriously.

Quinn suddenly burst out laughing, making Rachel smile at her adoringly and it was in that moment that Santana realized how lonely she was. It had been a long time since she'd had someone look at her like that.

"Let's move on, shall we?" Santana suggested, smiling at Quinn's giggle fit.

"Please," Quinn insisted. She smiled back at Rachel just as adoringly and reached out for her hand, making the pang in Santana's chest ache just a little more.

"So you two have known each other since you were little?" Rachel asked.

Santana nodded, sharing a grin with Quinn that could only be passed between two people who had shared more years of their lives together than apart. "I've known this bitch twenty years now."

"Lucky me, right?" Quinn deadpanned making them all laugh.

"You're both lucky," Rachel sighed dreamily. "I'm not really friends with anyone I grew up with anymore."

"Where are you from?" Santana asked.

"Lima, Ohio," Rachel told her with a shrug.

"Ohio to Broadway…impressive," Santana mused.

Rachel lit up like a Christmas tree then. "You've seen the show?"

"Of course," Santana replied. "You were phenomenal." She was being honest, and she didn't miss the grateful smile Quinn shot her in that moment, because obviously the compliment resonated with Rachel and Quinn was grateful that her best friend was getting along with her girlfriend so well.