Santana got the phone call early Thursday morning, as she was walking into her anthropology class. She hesitated, almost brushing it off completely, before she couldn't. Brittany hadn't spoken to her in months.

Santana stopped missing Brittany every morning.

But something told her to answer the phone. She wouldn't be late to class and she was alone, what harm would there be in a quick chat with Britt?

"Santana?" she heard the faint voice say. It wasn't Brittany, no. This voice was quieter, more mature, and full of sadness that had yet to be explained. Santana mumbled a reply.

"She's gone."

The funeral was held that Sunday. It went by in a blur of last minute plane tickets, general confusion, and the overwhelming desire to not go. Santana hadn't even begun to cope with this, and now she was flying home to meet up with all her old friends, family, Brittany's family, and Brittany's.. boyfriend. Of course he'd be there. She didn't let herself think about this the rest of the flight.

She got off the plane and met her mother. It took all of two seconds for Santana to let herself react to the feeling of her mother hugging her. All the emotions she hadn't had time to feel suddenly overwhelmed her. Before she knew it, her makeup was running, and her mother was gently stroking her hair. She vaguely heard her murmer words of "mija.. it's going to be okay.. just breathe, please" but she couldn't get herself together. Brittany was dead and so was the part of Santana that ever made sense.

When Santana was little, she used to dream about her life becoming like a movie. She'd have the time of her life in high school, college, graduate, find the love of her life, and settle down into a routine that worked for her and her spouse. Now she can't see anything in her future. It had taken all of three days without Brittany in the world for her life to fall apart.

Sam didn't say anything to her at the funeral reception. She stuck to Quinn and Rachel's sides, staying silent while her friends made small talk, everyone unsure as to what to discuss at a funeral. She stared at Sam, at how strong he was being. Almost all the guests went up to him, spouting their usual "Sorry for your loss" bullshit as he flashed smiles that never reached his eyes. Sam walked around the Pierce's living room, taking empty plates from guests, consoling a sobbing younger cousin, even sitting by Brittany's mother (who had been the one to talk to Santana) and holding her hand. Santana didn't know why she was so upset by his behavior. She had been the one to leave Brittany, for a reason that now seemed completely irrelevant-then again, everything felt like that without Britt-and she had let Sam into Brittany's life.

It was never supposed to be a permanent break.

Brittany wasn't supposed to die.

It had been a car accident. Well. Brittany had been walking down the street to find some sort of object Lord Tubbington had demanded according to the note written in crayon that she had left her mother. Somehow the jerk driving the other car had missed a stop sign and ran a light and ended up hitting Brittany. It wasn't the hit that killed her but rather the drop to the pavement. She hit her head and all hope was lost. The driver had fled. Luckily street surveillance as well as other passersby in the street had helped police catch him. Santana knew they probably wouldn't give him the death penalty but she still hoped. But what would that do? It wouldn't bring Brittany back. Santana wanted Brittany back.

She turned back into the party, vaguely hearing Quinn discuss her classes at Yale and Rachel staring at her a little bit too wide eyed and doey. Santana smiled at her friends. It took a minute for her to realize they had stopped talking. She gave a confused look as she turned around to see why. Sam was preparing to give a speech. He awkwardly took a spot in the middle of the living room, Brittany's family to one side, the unconsonlable cousins to the other. If she was capable of speaking, she would have asked what the hell gave him the right to demand attention from Brittany's funeral. But she wasn't speaking, she was just getting more angry.

The blonde boy Santana had once felt friendship for cleared his throat. The silence in the room was full of tension. Santana wanted him to start speaking just so he could shut up already. She didn't need this; he had nothing to say anybody wanted to hear, she thought.

"Thank you all for coming. I know it would have meant a lot to her.. it means a lot to me and the Pierce family." Sam began nervously, yet aware of his words. Santana believed he had written a speech for this. More and more anger piled up inside her. He continued. "Brittany was.. a unicorn, as she'd say. She was smart, incredibly so. Talented at singing, dancing, cheering-she could have done anything. She was going to. She was going to make it. If there's anything in this life I'll forget think about, it's what a difference her life made in the world." Sam choked back a sob, Santana noticed, and rolled her eyes. He wasn't saying anything worthy of Brittany. She could do it better. "And.. I loved her. So much. And I believe-" the boy paused, his eyes searching the room until he found the back corner where the three girls were station at. He locked eyes with Santana and she swore she saw a smile form in his eyes. "I believe she loved me too." He raised his glass of sparkling water, signaling for a toast, and sat back down. There were murmurs of general agreement buzzing around the room but Santana couldn't pay attention to any of them.

No. Sam hadn't just said Brittany loved him. No. This hadn't happened. Everyone who had ever known Brittany knew about them. She had loved Santana. Santana's brain raced a mile a minute. She hadn't realized she had started to cry again until Quinn was holdling her up and Rachel was leading her to the neartes chair. Everything was wrong, it felt wrong. Brittany loved her, and maybe Sam too. But she still counted. She had to be shushed by Quinn because she had started muttering things out loud, things she couldn't control, and she was shaking. Rachel was on the phone, calling Santana's mother and people had started to stare. Quinn was whispering in her ear, "San, baby, please, don't listen to what he said, you know it's not true" but it just made her wail louder.

Sam walked over to the hysterical girl without any warning. None of the others had seen him approaching; he put his hand on Santana's shoulder and the rest is a dark memory she only knows through tales told to her.

She had yelled at Sam. She screamed, growled, even tried to punch him. She slammed him against a wall. Quinn and Rachel grabbed hold of her, letting her continue to scream but not harm the boy. He didn't look scared, he looked almost relieved. That only made Santana angrier. The words came pouring out of her before she could think about what she was saying.

"Do you think you're some kind of important guy to be saying all these words at Brittany's funeral, Sam?" She jerked forward, almost knocking Rachel over with her violent necessity. "Think you're gonna get points with her mom by holding her hand while she cries over the loss of her daughter?" Her arms were flailing everywhere as she tried to get to him. Sam remained silent, his eyes full of words Santana never wanted to hear.

"It's not just you, Sam. You're not the only one who gives a fuck and is being strong, you know. You're not the only fucking person in her life who feels fucked up." She spat out, with poison in her words she hadn't felt since those angry days in high school. She stopped trying to attack the boy for a second before her next sentence. She looked him dead in the eyes.

"You are not the only person she ever loved. And you are not who she would have ended up with."

Sam turned around and walked away. Santana didn't look at her friends, who had since released her. She didn't look at anybody as she made her way out of the party.

As she closed the door to the Pierce house for the last time, she wiped away a tear and let everything float away.