Chapter 1: If I Was Only Dreaming

Santana knew what was going to happen. It always happened like this. The car pulling up into the driveway, the bustling sound as he hurried to gather his belongings from the back seat, the slamming of the door against the car's frame… Santana longed for a time when family insinuated love. But she had long since realized that the legal definition of family had nothing to do with what family truly meant. Or perhaps it was the other way around…

Santana nearly fell over as she was dragged out of her reverie by the bang of the front door. She heard her stepfather swearing and murmuring to himself as he bashed around the kitchen. She heard the clink of glass as he poured himself the night's first drink. Only six-thirty and he was already into his Scotch; Santana knew it was going to be a rough night.

Attempting to turn her focus back to her math homework, Santana reached into her drawer and pulled out the small pill bottle. The medication prescribed for her ever present anxiety. She opened the bottle and peered at its contents. Nine small blue pills left. Shit. She'd picked up the prescription only last week. I've got to stop abusing these, she thought as she tossed the bottle back into the lock-box she had secreted away in her desk. Instead she pulled out another bottle, bigger than the first. Turning to examine the label, she made a quick mental list of the pros and cons of abusing yet another dose of her ADHD medication. I've got to get these damn problems finished and write another draft of that stupid essay…She glanced at the clock on her computer screen. Six thirty-three. That gave her anywhere between two and four hours to complete the necessary assignments. Fuck it, she decided, reaching into the bottle and removing one of the small white pills. She placed it carefully on the desk and was about to bring the top of the bottle down upon it, when she heard another crash from below her.

Santana jumped up from her desk at the sound of footsteps stomping on the stairs. No, no, no it's not even seven! Why is he coming upstairs already? She grabbed her stuffed kitten from the bed and flung herself through into the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind her. Reaching up to lock it, she fell against the door, as if her small body weight would be enough to hinder her stepfather from entering the cramped space. But when there was no yelling, no insults or foul language, no banging on the door; the tears began to fall. If he hadn't come upstairs to begin Santana's nearly nightly torment, he was almost definitely in his own room, collecting his favorite objects of torturous intent.

The anticipation of what he would do to her was overwhelming. Her teary breathing turned to nauseating gasps as she pictured the hours to come. She fell forward and slammed her face against the ceramic tiling, desperate to feel something other than fearful anticipation. This inherent need drew her memory towards what lay tucked away in the bottom drawer of the bathroom cupboard. The only thoughts permeating Santana's terrified mind were those of the solace she would find by crawling into this particular pill bottle. Unlike the others she had considered, these were not prescribed to Santana, and the nagging realization of her looming drug addiction harried her as she popped open the bottle and dumped its contents onto the floor. The small pink pills scattered, the imprinted OC facing up on some, 20 facing up on others. Santana grabbed one of them and swept the rest back into the bottle. She pulled herself into a sitting position in order to reach into the pocket of her Cheerios jacket. From its depths she pulled her credit card, and the straw she had found in an empty Dunkin' Donuts bag under the seat of Brittany's truck earlier that before she could inhale the powder from the pill she had demolished between the tiles and the card, she heard the crash against her bedroom door.

"Santana Lopez, open this goddamn door right now!" She heard her stepfather's yells as she quickly bent her head and breathed in the chemicals.

"Right now bitch! Open this goddamn door RIGHT NOW!"

"I'm coming! I'm sorry, I'm coming!" Santana whimpered; her scathing 'Head Bitch in Charge' attitude was nowhere to be found. She collected the equipment of her latest endeavor and tossed it back into the bottom drawer. She wrenched the bathroom door open and scampered towards her stepfather's voice.

"IF YOU DON'T OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW I'M GOIN—" Santana chose that moment to flip the lock and pull back the handle. He towered over the small girl. She trembled as his eyes roamed over her, his gaze ripping through her Cheerios uniform to what lay beneath. He swung his arm down towards Santana, and she yelped as the back of his hand contacted her cheek. The force knocked her against her dresser, and she groped for the wooden frame to steady herself, but another blow came and sent her careening to the floor, where she didn't bother to right herself. He tugged down the zipper of her jacket and she squeezed her eyes closed, hoping to block out all that was forthcoming. Brittany, Santana thought. Think about Brittany. But just as she began to float away on thoughts of her beautiful girlfriend, a stinging swipe across her face brought her back to the present situation.

"No, no, no, I want you right here, not off somewhere pretending you don't like it. We both know you want it. Tell me how much you want me, bitch," his husky drawl frightened Santana.

"I-I want you," she muttered. The words on her tongue made her sick. Who could want something like this?

"Well that's not very convincing," His eyes held a look of pure, joyful anticipation. "Perhaps you'd rather have something else?" He reached over and picked up one of the toys he'd brought with him. His brutal approach to the use of these objects was not in Santana's favor.

"N-No, no I-I want you, please, I want y-you," Santana stammered through the request, hoping she wouldn't be sick.

"That's what I thought," his tone turned harsher with every word. Santana felt him rip off the top of her uniform, and pull up her skirt. She'd shut her eyes again, hoping he wouldn't notice in his hurry to undress her. She felt herself being lifted, then felt the floor as she was dropped on her front. She felt him against her thigh as he lifted her hips. Please let this be over soon. She gasped as he forced himself into her…

"San, wake up, please baby wake up it's just a dream. It's just a dream babe, please wake up," Brittany cooed into Santana's ear while the dark skinned girl continued to cry out in her sleep. Brittany hated to see Santana so restless, and she reached for her in the dark, hoping to hold her close enough to chase away Santana's demons. Brittany knew the film playing in her girlfriends mind, and the thought of what he was doing to her made Brittany want to explode. As she drew Santana to her, the sleeping girl fought against her, suddenly very awake.

"It's okay San, it's just me. It's Britt, it's not him. You're here, you're safe with me, it's just us baby," Brittany's soothing words brought Santana back to the present. Her eyes, wild with fear, searched the darkness for her lover as she groped for her hand.

"Let me get you some water," Brittany moved to climb out of bed, but Santana grabbed her.

"No, don't leave me Britt, don't leave me alone. I don't want to be alone," Santana wept, and Brittany repositioned herself against her girlfriend.

"I'll never leave you, baby girl. Never."