Disclaimer: I own only Kyle and Antonia. This was plotted and co written as part of a rp by another writer. I did finish its middle and ending and edit and rewrite all shared parts.

Prologue

Seventeen year old Santana took a deep breath in, then let it out, her eyes continually darting to look for any sights of the person she was awaiting. One hand automatically came to rest on her stomach, feeling for the slight bump that she knew didn't yet exist, and she swallowed hard to try to keep her nerves at bay. This was the second time she would have to speak of this with someone who meant everything to her, and she wasn't sure that this time, she would be able to find words.

It had been almost okay, talking to her mother. Santana knew to the depths of her heart that Maribel Lopez would always love and support her, no matter what she did, and although she had been anxious and afraid to tell her of her far from planned on pregnancy, she had known that whatever Maribel's reaction, she would make it seem okay, eventually. And she had. Her mother had hugged her close to her, tears in her eyes, and kissed Santana's head, telling her in a voice only slightly choked that she loved her, that she was still her baby, and she would help her through whatever choice Santana made.

It had been different with her father- much different. Although he and Santana's mother had been separated since Santana was fifteen, Santana had chosen to take her mother with her when she confessed to him, knowing she would need the emotional and physical support. When Santana managed to come out with the truth to him, her mother's hand firmly gripping hers, she had watched as his face seemed to close in on itself, as his lips pressed into a thin line and he shook his head adamantly, as though to deny her words.

"I will not have this in my house," he had declared, shaking his head so hard that Santana was almost afraid he would pull a muscle in his neck. His hands drew into fists, and she thought as she looked at him that it was a true possibility he would hit her, or an object close by. "You dishonor the Lopez name, Santana. To do this…to make this of yourself, acting like a common whore-"

Santana's mother had spoke up then, defending her with viciously barbed words to her ex husband, and before Santana could even process it the two of them were screaming at each other, as much about each other and their role in parenting her as about her, herself. The confrontation had ended with Rodrigo Lopez barring Santana from his home and his life, vowing to disown her, and although Santana had not yet spoken to his mother, her abuela, she was certain that Alma Lopez would do the same.

This final discussion was with Kyle, the father of the child she was carrying, and unlike with her mother and father, Santana could not be sure of predicting how he would respond. Honestly, she didn't know Kyle well enough to guess. They hadn't exactly dated, if she could call it that, and they certainly were not in a relationship. For the past few months they had fallen into what she guessed could be considered a casual sexual partnership of sorts, rarely talking or hanging out together beyond the necessary of getting the deed done, and she had a feeling that Kyle would be less than thrilled for the end results of this arrangement.

She knew she had been stupid; she should have insisted that Kyle use a condom, or she should have put herself on birth control. She was supposed to complete her first year of college in only a few months, and having a baby would derail her from everything she had started to plan out in her life. But Santana could not even consider any other possibility. It wasn't just that she had been raised Catholic, and therefore felt required to think of abortion as wrong. It was the fact that already, although the baby had not moved or even started to bulge out her stomach at all, she felt like it was a person, a part of herself that she could not ever hate or want destroyed. Already, weird as it was, she felt like she loved this little being, and no matter how others reacted, she could never let it go.

She crossed, then uncrossed her legs, her bottom cold from the metal of the bleachers beneath her, and it crossed her mind that one day she might get so big from her pregnancy that she wouldn't be able to sit that way at all. She had chosen this place deliberately for their meeting, a local ball park with a playground within its view, in hopes that if Kyle saw other children at play, or at least could have the subconscious image of them in his head, that he would soften up at the idea of having a child of his own. She hoped, but she had no expectation. Kyle was many things, but one thing that she had never thought of him as was someone who was anywhere near wanting to become a father.

She still wasn't sure how she herself had ended up involved with Kyle. It all seemed such a blur to her, not in the least because there had more often than not been alcohol involved during their times together. As the end of their senior year had drawn to a close, Santana had begun to feel more and more uneasy with herself and her life. She knew that she would have to choose either a college or a career, that the end of her childhood was closing in fast, and this understanding was frightening. Even more scary than the unknowns of her future was her own feelings, because more and more, she was beginning to come to the understanding that she was attracted not just to boys, but to girls as well- and one girl on her cheerleading squad in particular.

She was pretty sure that it was these stressors in her life that caused her to respond when Kyle Latimer began to show some attention in her direction. Between her desire for feeling wanted and distracted, and the amount of alcohol that was always present when she was with him, they had fallen into a sexual if not emotional coupling fast, and now, here she was. Seven weeks pregnant, missing both her father and abuela from her life, undoubtedly having to put college on hold, if she could ever manage to go at all. She had fucked up, and now she had one more person to confide this in.

She was beginning to wonder if Kyle had stood her up when she saw his loping form come closer, recognizable even from a distance. As Kyle sat beside her easily, his shoulders slumped forward as he reached to give her shoulder a friendly shove, Santana didn't smile in greeting. She couldn't make her mouth move enough to try.

"What's up, Lopez?" he asked, and Santana tried to respond as casually as he had, to shoot the breeze for a while before going for the kill, but again she found she couldn't do it. She didn't have the energy to pretend for even a few seconds.

"I've got to tell you something, Kyle. I'm just gonna say it, okay? I'm…I'm pregnant. Seven weeks."

For several moments Kyle just looked at her, blinking, seeming unable to draw conclusions from her words. Then as their meaning hit, his face drew up into a scowl, and he shook his head quickly, already rejecting her words.

"How the hell can you know that? You don't look any different. You're full of shit, Lopez."

"I went to the doctor, Kyle," Santana said quietly, briefly biting her lower lip. "She took my blood and urine, she said I am. She's a doctor, she would know."

For a few more moments Kyle just shook his head, but the seriousness of Santana's expression must have convinced him. Finally, to himself more than to her, he spoke again, lifting up his chin in a gesture of defiance.

"Oh yeah? Well, sucks for you, I guess. Whose is it?"

At this Santana blinked in surprise, her eyes widening. Had he seriously just asked her that?

"Whose is it? It's yours, Kyle. Of course it's yours, whose else would it be?"

"Well, how should I know?" he shot back, jerking his chin up towards her. "I don't know what you do in your spare time. You could be fucking every guy on the football team for all I know. Wouldn't be a shock, you weren't no blushing virgin when you came my way."

Santana couldn't believe what she was hearing. This could not be happening. She had expected Kyle to be angry, to yell or refuse to help her out….but to go beyond that and accuse her of being a slut and a liar, to act like the baby wasn't his in the first place? It was beyond infuriating, it was insulting, and she got to her feet, putting her face close to his as she started to yell.

"It's yours, Kyle! You're the only asshole I've been fucking, so don't even try with that shit! I wish it wasn't true, maybe then the father would be someone with more brain and guts and less of an asshole, but you're the only one, it's YOU! So man the hell up and help me out here!"

But Kyle stepped back and to the side, walking down from the bleachers with the utter calm of a boy who had no worries at all. He didn't even glance back at Santana as he continued on his way.

"Sorry, Lopez, but you're on your own. I'm not helping out some other dude's kid."

He left her there, shaking with her anger and her grief, and it took very little time for Santana to understand. It was always going to be just her, her and her baby. With the exception of her mother, there was no one. She would always be on her own.

88

Five years later

Twenty-four year old Sam Evans heaved a sigh as he wheeled the grocery cart down the cereal aisle, eyeing not the items on the shelves that he was supposed to be buying, but rather the rapidly retreating back of his five year old brother, Stevie, who was currently engaged in what looked like an attempt at a cartwheel down the aisles. Taking another breath for patience, Sam called out to him, his voice firm but even. Stevie didn't take well to yelling, but sometimes, it was hard for him to remember this when he was reaching the end of his tolerance level.

"Stevie, you know you don't do that inside, especially not in a grocery store with hard floors. If you won't start listening to me then you're not getting Captain Crunch."

That was enough for Stevie to straighten up, his little mouth dropping open in dismay at the thought, and Sam smiled to himself as his brother began to walk again, more or less normally. He might not be a parent, but the past year of acting as one towards Stevie had definitely taught him a few tricks out of the parenting book.

This wasn't the way life was for most young men Sam's age; if they had responsibility towards anything at all other than themselves, it would be a dog or a house plant, not a human being, and if they did, it would probably be for their own child. But life had never been all that typical towards Sam, and his responsibility for Stevie was just one of the ways that he seemed destined to differ.

He felt a pang of sorrow in his heart, just thinking of this, as he wheeled into the frozen aisle and began to select bags of chicken and French fries. Only in the last year, since his parents' death, had he been required to start learning to make food that would be acceptable for a growing little boy instead of whatever he himself felt like eating. Sometimes he wondered if the way that he raised Stevie, as his guardian and brother rather than his father, was at all close to how his parents would have, if they had had the opportunity, and he worried that his own somewhat uncertain efforts would not give Stevie everything he could have and should have had from them. But after a year of trial and error, Sam was beginning to feel that he was starting to get a rhythm going in his parenting efforts, and most of the time, he and Stevie got along without too many problems.

But there was something about the supermarket that just seemed to make it impossible for the kid to pay attention to him.

"Stevie!" he called, as his brother darted around the corner out of the frozen food aisles and headed towards the cereal aisle again. "I already got the Captain Crunch, come back here!"

But his brother was already out of his sight and probably hearing range as well. With another sigh and a roll of his eyes, Sam started to wheel the cart towards him, starting to seriously consider whether his tall and sturdy brother would still fit in the baby seat of it.

88

Santana was already tired. A day with her daughter was always wearying, even when she was pleasant and well behaved, simply because she was an active, curious four year old who required lots of attention, supervision, and interaction. But today was not one of Antonia's best days. She had gotten in trouble in Pre K and came home grumpy and having refused her nap. She had been difficult ever since and overly tired and wound up. Santana would have just taken her home, made dinner, and settled her in for bed early, but they were out of milk and a few other needed things, so to the grocery store she had gone.

"I don't wanna, " Antonia had whined as Santana buckled her into her booster seat in the car, arching her back and pawing half heartedly at the strap. "That hurts my tummy, Mami. I don't wanna, I want to go home! I wanna play ponies!"

"Toni, it's only a few minutes, and then we're going home. You know you need cereal with your milk in the morning, or else you'll go to school with a grumbly tummy," Santana had reached to tickle her daughter's stomach as she spoke, trying to invoke a smile or giggle, but the child was having none of it. She had scowled back at her, her lower lip stuck out as she whined again.

"Wanna go home! Wanna go home!"

She had settled down somewhat by the time Santana pulled into the grocery parking lot, just enough that she would begrudgingly accept Santana's hand in hers as they walked inside, but she had bucked her again when Santana attempted to lift her up into the child's seat of the cart.

"Mami! I'm too big for that! That's for babies! What if someone I know sawed me?!"

Despite her exasperation, Santana had had to hide a smirk at that comment. Sometimes her daughter seemed four going on fourteen, with the precocious comments she came up with.

She had let her walk beside her instead, knowing that the child was too tired and cranky to wander off as she usually might. For the first fifteen minutes or so, the shopping had gone fairly peacefully. It was only when Santana turned her back for a few seconds to reach for a can high on the shelf that she heard the shrill shriek of Antonia, a noise she would recognize anywhere. Only her daughter and police sirens were capable of creating a noise that high and disturbing to the ears.

Santana's head whipped around and she stumbled, almost dropping the can on her toes as she located her daughter and attempted to determine the cause of her screaming. All she could see was that there was a little blonde boy, slightly larger than her, standing nearby, blinking at her sheepishly as Antonia shrieked her indignation.

"Antonia, what is the problem?!" Santana half shouted over her, and her daughter responded not to her, but to the other child, pushing her face close to him.

"I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU, YOU MEAN UGLY BOY!"

She reared back her hand as though to slap him, but Santana seized her wrist, keeping her from doing so.

"Antonia Cristina!" she hissed, barely noting then that a young man had just wheeled his cart around the corner and abandoned it to run over to them. The man took hold of the little boy's shoulders, pulling him back from the two of them and addressing him even as Santana addressed her daughter.

"Stevie, I told you not to run away from me! What's going on here, did you do something to that little girl?"

"She started it!" was Stevie's immediate and automatic defense, which only provoked Antonia into even more intense rage.

"I DID NOT! HE DID, HE PULLED MY HAIR, I HATE HIM!"

With that melodramatic exclamation, Antonia pulled her wrist from her mother's grasp and threw herself down bodily to the ground, kicking her feet and flailing her arms in a full on tantrum. Exasperated and more than a little embarrassed, Santana's eyes darted between the boy and man, who were looking on, dumbfounded, and her daughter's wailing form on the floor. Antonia didn't often have tantrums anymore, but when she reached a certain level of being overwhelmed with her usually intense emotions, her resulting behavior could be appalling.

She ignored the two blonde figures nearby, instead kneeling down beside her daughter. She knew better than to talk to Antonia when she was in such a state, so instead she reached to touch her shoulder. Antonia only seemed to shriek louder at this, kicking out at her. Yeah, this was clearly not going to be an easy fix.

She could hear the young man scolding the boy as she attempted to get hold of her daughter firmly enough to pull her up.

"Stevie, is that true? Did you really pull that girl's hair?"

"Yes, but Sammy, she was-"

"No buts, Stevie. You know the way you're supposed to treat girls and women and pulling their hair is definitely not okay. No Captain Crunch for you today."

The man- Sammy?- looked over towards Santana then, giving her an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry, Stevie knows better than that. I don't know what's gotten into him today. I don't want to make anything worse here, but…can I try talking to the little girl? Sometimes kids hear more from strangers than they do from people they know, the surprise factor or something? I feel bad that he made her cry like this."

"Don't worry about it," Santana sighed, shaking her head. "It wasn't really him. She's just…it's kind of been one of those days, you know?" She waved a somewhat limp hand towards Antonia's still-thrashing form on the floor. "Be my guest, you can try to talk to her, but I warn you, once she gets to this point she kinda goes deaf to anything you have to say to her. Usually you have to let her wind herself down before anything gets through."

Nevertheless, she addressed her daughter one more time, despite her knowledge it was likely hopeless to try. "Toni, come on now. We need to go home. I've got the milk, we can forget everything else for now. Let me help you up and we'll go home."

As she thought she would, Toni ignored her, continuing to cry and kick her feet, though not quite as forcefully as before. Santana raised an eyebrow at the man, as though to point out to him the obvious fact of Toni's irrationality when this upset. The man just gave her a small smile before kneeling down next to Toni. Without any seeming effort in the gesture, he scooped her up, flailing limbs and all, in such a way that her arms were gently pinned down from being able to lash out. Antonia fought him at first, her screeches momentarily growing louder, but he was stronger, and he spoke quietly and close to her ear. Santana couldn't hear him at first, but she watched with something like amazement as her daughter's violent squirming stopped, and her screams gave off to hiccups and sniffles as she actually listened to what he was saying to her.

"There you go, that's right. You can't hear when you make all that noise. Like I said, my name is Sam, and you're Toni, right? Short for Antonia? I really like both those names, they're very pretty, just like you."

Santana continued to watch, disbelieving, as her daughter sniffled again, but actually seemed to lean back into Sam's chest rather than fight him, as she would have done with her. Did this guy have a magic touch or what?

"There you go," Sam said to her again, shifting his hold on her so he could gently pat her back. "I bet you're thirsty after all that yelling. I understand why you were upset, that must have hurt if Stevie pulled your hair. He's my brother, but I take care of him. I'm sorry he pulled your hair, Toni. How about to make it up for you, I buy you an ice cream. But you only get the ice cream if you can stop crying and stop yelling and fighting at your mommy. What do you think? Does that sound fair?"

Antonia regarded him with narrowed eyes, seeming to be assessing this choice. Tears still dripped down her face, but then she nodded and scrubbed one fist under her eyes. She wrapped her arms around Sam's neck, hiding her face against his shoulder, and Santana stared, her eyes wide with near amazement.

" Damn, are you a magician?"

Laughing a little and shaking her head, she reached out for Antonia, meaning to take her from him, but Antonia was still grumpy towards her, as though she now blames her too for Stevie's action, and didn't look up.

Sam smiled down at the little girl now almost snuggled against him, one hand still resting on her back. He lifted his gaze to meet Santana's, and for a moment, his breath caught, and a faint flush came to his cheeks. He had been so caught up in figuring out what exactly it was Stevie had done, and then trying to calm the crying child in his arms, that he had not exactly taken the time to really look at the little girl's mother. And now that he was…well, words to accurately described her were not ones he had in his vocabulary.

The woman was beautiful. Slim yet curvy build, with high cheek bones, perfectly caramel colored skin, long, sleek black hair, and intense dark eyes that seemed bottomless in their depth. Sam knew immediately that he could easily get lost in those eyes, and for the first few seconds he could not make sense of the woman's teasing question to him.

He realized with a start that she was looking at him with the raised eyebrow that she had directed at her daughter moments before, and he gave a faint laugh, shaking his head as he tried to refocus.

"Uh, no, not a magician. I guess I'm sort of good with kids, is all. Maybe because I'm still kind of a kid myself sometimes."

He didn't want to look away from the woman and her oddly mesmerizing gaze, but he made himself look down at the child he was still holding, trying to regroup. The little girl was rather striking herself, resembling her mother. Though her skin was lighter and her eyes were rounder, her chubby little cheeks fuller and her hair wavier, she had the same intense eyes, the slim frame, and he noticed identical dimples in both cheeks.

"Sammy?" Stevie ventured from beside him, and Sam cleared his throat, turning his head to give his brother his attention. "If you're getting ice cream for Toni, can I get some too?"

"Uh, sure," Sam told him, although he knew that he shouldn't be saying yes; Stevie's actions didn't exactly merit ice cream. Turning back to Santana, he smiled. "That is, if it's okay with you. The ice cream, I mean. There's a place in this shopping complex. My treat."

He noticed that Santana's eyes were still on her daughter, as though she too were trying to focus on her rather than him as she spoke.

"I still think you must have magic blood. You don't know my child here. Normally I could ask her if she wants a million dollars, and if she's in the middle of a fit, she'd still scream no."

She reached again for Antonia, but the child snuggled closer to Sam, still ignoring her. Santana rolled her eyes at her but let her stay for the moment, and this time she did meet his gaze as she spoke again.

" I don't know if a certain little girl deserves any ice cream, the way she's been acting today, and definitely I don't know if she won't even acknowledge her mami exists."

At that Antonia looks up fast, eyes wide. She had stuck her thumb in her mouth after Sam picked her up, and she popped it out to reply.

"Ice cream, Mami, please, please, I want it! "

Santana smirked over her head at Sam as she answered.

"You want a lot of things, Toto. But because this man is offering, you can for now."

To Sam she added with a genuine smile, her gaze lingering just a bit longer than necessary on his upper chest and arms, " Thank you. You have some kind of cologne that attracts kids or something?"

"Nah, I've just had to take care of Stevie on my own for a while, guess I'm getting used to it. Kids get tired, kids get rowdy and upset, and things happen….Stevie, put that down," he ordered as he glanced over at the little boy, only to see that he was rolling a can of soup over the floor.

Returning his attention back to Santana, he thought of saying to her that she looked too young to be a mother, but then thought better of it. Maybe she had good genes, or maybe she was as young as she had looked and it wasn't his business to make her uncomfortable over it. Instead he cleared his throat again.

"Well, I'd be happy to take you both for ice cream, it's the least we can do to apologize. I think you've already heard, but I'm Sam Evans and this is Stevie. I know this is Toni, but what is your name?"

"I'm Santana Lopez," Santana told him, as she began, without quite realizing it, to follow Sam, who was still holding Antonia, towards the store's front. "Believe me, I know how it can be, being on your own with a child. It's just me and Antonia too. My mother helps, but…"

She shrugged, letting the rest of the sentence drop, before she addressed her daughter.

"You can have one scoop, Toni, but in a cup, not a cone. She gets really messy with cones," she explained to Sam.

"That's fine…so, Santana. Like the band, huh? It's nice to meet you," Sam told her, seeming to genuinely mean the words, and Santana smiled, returning the sentiment, and was surprised how genuine her own words were.

"It's nice to meet you too."