Santana didn't know where she was going. All she knew was that she wanted to-get away. The hallways, thank God, were empty. She supposed everyone else must be in class, which was a stroke of good luck on a day that seemed anything but good or lucky. For then hundreth time, she wondered why that stranger bitch had had to overhear what Hudson had said to her, why she'd had to tell her goddamn father about it, why-

Why she had to be like this. Why she had to be different.

She turned a corner and flung into the girl's bathroom. Panting, she leaned against the sink, staring blankly at her face in the mirror, replaying Hudson's shocked look as she slapped him over and over again. Part of her wanted to feel vindicated, but she really only felt sad. And hurt, as if someone had just ripped out everything inside of her, leaving her hollow and emotionless and aching from the loss of it all.

Her shoulders tensed as she heard the door open and she hurriedly wiped her face, hoping she could clear some of the tears before whoever was coming in saw her. She turned, witty barb on the tip of her tongue, ready to send whatever girl stupid enough to interrupt her breakdown out of the bathroom screaming-

"Santana?"

-and instead came face to face with Hummel. Santana blinked at him, caught off-guard. She hadn't expected any of them to follow her, not even Brittany. But if she had, Hummel would have been-well, not the last, but one of the people very low on the list. And, to make it even more confusing, Santana could see Hummel's hobbit boyfriend behind him, peering over his shoulder with big, worried eyes.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice thick with tears. She frowned, angry at herself for showing such weakness, especially in front of Hummel and his perfect life and his perfect relationship-

"Blaine and I were worried about you," Hummel said, unruffled as always.

Santana could barely remember the days when Hummel was so easily riled up, pale and thin and scared looking. He was so composed now, all elegance and biting wit and raised, condescending eyebrow. Santana didn't know if it was because of his boy toy or the absence of Karofsky, but Hummel had . . . matured, she supposed, was the only word for it.

"Worried about little ol' me?" she asked mockingly. "I'm so touched. But don't worry - I'm just peachy. After all, it's just my life your idiotic step-brother ruined."

Hummel's face softened and Santana hated him for it. She turned away from him, back to the mirror, but she could still see his face in it, his stupid, understanding face. Don't you dare try and empathize with me, she thought fiercely. Don't you dare try and understand me, Kurt Hummel, I won't allow it.

"Santana, I know this is hard," Hummel said, taking a step forward. Santana watched in the mirror as he approached, his boyfriend following closely behind, quiet and watchful. Santana wondered why he was letting Hummel do all the talking. "But you have to know that-"

"What?" Santana interrupted spitefully, whirling to face him again. "That you're here for me? That you know what I'm going through? Well, fuck you, Ladyface, I don't need you or your hobbit to try and hold my hand while I try to keep my life from falling apart!"

"Santana-" Hummel tried, stepping closer, eyes wide and so, so understanding. Santana's heart was beating too fast, her throat felt tight.

"And what, you actually care now, Hummel? As if you care about me!" Hummel's eyes widened and he froze. Santana smirked viciously. "As if anyone in our little glee club cares about me! You'd all rather I not even be there, wouldn't you! After all, it's not like one of you - not one - tried to stop Schue from kicking me out in the first week!"

Hummel's jaw dropped and Santana lips tightened. She hadn't meant to say that. She had never revealed to anyone, not even Brittany, how much it had burned that they had been so willing to let her go. New Directions always talked about friendship and how they were all a family, but when it came down to it, they'd all let Schue force Santana out without even blinking an eye. And during the week she'd been gone? None of them had even looked at her, let alone talked to her, besides Brittany. None of them, not Hudson, not Berry, not Hummel-

And it burned. She'd thought they-that they cared and stupidly she'd let them in. All of them, even Berry and her annoyingly perfect voice and Hudson with his stupidity and chivalry . . . . She had, she had angrily admitted to herslef in that week of exile, come to think of them as her friends, her family. And they'd let her go.

"That's why," Hummel breathed. Santana shifted uncomfortably in front of his gaze, feeling almost vulnerable. "That's why you've been so-so horrible to us, isn't it? You think we betrayed you."

"You did betray me," Santana snapped violently.

Hummel stepped forward until he was in Santana's space. Carefully, he reached out and took her hand. Santana shuddered. She didn't like this, didn't like-like the kindness in his hands, in his face-

"Santana," Anderson spoke up finally, coming up on Hummel's side and reaching for her other hand. "I'm sorry. I should have-" he shook his head. "Said something to Mr. Schue. I didn't think what he did was right, but I let it go because I was the new guy and I didn't know what the boundaries were. But we should have stood behind you."

"Blaine's right," Hummel said, sending a smile at Anderson that was-too private, too intimate. Santana wanted to hide from it. "We always talk about being a family, about standing together, but when it comes down to it, we never really follow through. Schue was wrong to kick you out, especially since he knows what Coach Sylvester's like, what she can do to manipulate you guys." Hummel eyed her closely, then said, "What did you say to you, to get you to do it?"

Santana bit her lip. "She knew about me," she said quietly. "And she implied that everyone else would too if I didn't help her."

Hummel swore. Santana blinked in surprise. She didn't think she'd ever heard Hummel swear before.

"I think I really need to have a talk with her," Hummel said tiredly. "I don't what's going on with her lately, but she's going out of control. First with my dad, and then with you-"

"Like she'll listen to you anyways, Porcelain," Santana said mockingly. "Coach Sylvester doesn't listen to anyone, least of all ex-cheerleaders who just ditched one day without a reason."

Hummel rolled his eyes, a sudden change from his previous understanding attitude. "She still hasn't gotten over that?" he huffed. Anderson sent him an amused look. "Honestly, it's not as if I didn't tell her I was leaving-"

"She just didn't believe you," Santana said, smiling a little for the first time since she'd heard I'm so sorry.

Hummel smiled at her. "She's a bit stubborn," he agreed.

And the understatement of the year goes to, Santana thought. Classifying Sue Sylvester as a little stubborn was the same thing as saying World War II was a tiny misunderstanding.

"Finn deserved it," Anderson said suddenly, popping their light-hearted bubble.

"Blaine-" Hummel started, brow furrowing.

Anderson shook his head. "I know what you said to him was horrible, but he should know," he said, vehement and almost angry. Santana blinked at him, oddly touched. "Obviously he didn't mean for all of Ohio to know, but to announce it loudly in the hallways of this school-"

"Blaine," Hummel said again, more quietly. "You know he was provoked." He sent Santana a hard look. "And as much as he was an idiot, it wasn't like you were blameless, Santana."

Santana bared her teeth at him. "Oh bite me, homo," she spat. "I, what? Ruined his precious ego? Poked a few holes in that bubble of self-righteousness he carries around him? I'm so sorry, I can't hear you over the sound of my ruined life."

Hummel took a deep breath. "You were both horrible to each other, Santana," he said quietly. "I don't believe in outing, and trust me, Finn and I are having some words when I get home, but-" he shook his head. "You hurt him too, Santana. And he retaliated by the bar you set for the situation. He's not entirely blameless, but neither are you."

Santana's lip shook. "How is it," she lowly, all anger and viciousness and hurt now, because she had been beginning to think these two were on her side, "that fucking Hudson outs me and ruins my existence and tells everyone who has a fucking Youtube account that I'm panting to get pussy and yet he still gets the sympathy? It's always oh, poor Finn, how horrible your life is. How horrible to be a white, straight guy in high school. What a hard decision, to have to choose between popularity and being a geek. God, I don't know how he gets through the day with such a painful existence. What a saint."

Hummel's face was pained and Santana knew, she knew, that he was thinking of their sophomore year, when his crush on Hudson had been truly painful to watch. She knew he was thinking of Hudson's incomprehension in the face of Hummel's struggle junior year, of how Hudson had never lifted a finger to help him against the bullying, how Hudson had pushed Hummel down, kept him in a box for his own "protection," and then had not even apologized for trying to keep Hummel lonely. And had never, after all of it, apologized for anything. Had complained about his own problems as if they were so much more important.

Santana was angry. She was so angry, because there would always be Finn Hudson's in the world - people whose lives were not as hard as they imagined them to be, people who belitted the actual struggles of others just because they couldn't or didn't want to understand them. She could still see Hudson's face, the smug way he'd said everybody already knows-that was why she'd slapped him.

Had he learned nothing? Was he really so stupid? He'd seen how Hummel was treated at this school. Just because Karofsky was gone didn't mean the homophobia left too. Santana knew. As soon as she came to school tomorrow, there would be people jeering at her, leering at her, calling her names, pushing her around. And yeah, she could push back, but they weren't really that frightened of her. And there was only so much protection Coach Sylvester could give her.

"He hurts people," Hummel acknowledged, his voice low and barely audible. "But he's always sorry about it. Always."

"It'd be better," Santana told him, snarling, "if he didn't hurt them in the first place."

Hummel sighed heavily. "Finn's a good person, Santana," he said finally, helplessly. "So are you, even if you don't like to show it. I can't just-take sides on this. You were both at fault. But it's you who has to deal with the consequences of it all, so it's you I'm here for. And I will always be there if you need me, do you understand?" he asked, suddenly fierce, gripping her hand tightly. "Both Blaine and I. We know what it's like, and we are here for you. You are not alone, you got that?"

Santana's throat felt very tight all of the sudden. "I'm horrible to you," she said, her voice thick. She could feel the tears coming on. "I'm so horrible to you-why are you doing this? What's in it for you?"

Hummel looked at his boyfriend, who was staring at Santana with wide, suspiciously wet eyes. "We understand," he said simply, voice heavy with bitterness and resignation. "And you hurt people, Santana, you do, but that doesn't mean you really deserve to get hurt too. Revenge doesn't help anyone."

Santana's wall broke, suddenly and without warning. Her knees trembled and she collapsed against Hummel's - Kurt's - arm and suddenly he was hugging her. She could feel Anderson's - Blaine's - arms coming around her too, and she enfolded in their embrace. Before she could stop it, she started to cry, deep, heavy sobs that came from her chest and rocked her body.

"I wasn't ready," she half-screamed into Kurt's chest. "I wasn't ready and he-"

"I know," Kurt murmured into her hair, arms tightening around her. "Oh, Santana, I know."

"It'll be alright," Blaine said quietly. "We're here. We'll help you." His voice sounded suspiciously thick as well.

Santana curled into them and, for the first time that day, felt safe.

Kurt sighed heavily as he closed the door to his bedroom. Santana was sleeping on his bed. She'd been too worn out after her breakdown in the bathroom to go home and Kurt hadn't had the heart to make her, so he'd taken her back to his house instead. Burt, feeling guilty, had allowed it without comment.

"Goddamnit," Kurt muttered under his breath.

Blaine glanced over at him. "You should talk to Finn," he said, voice low and angry.

Kurt shook his head. "He's not home," he said, frustrated. "And even if he was-what can I say? God, how dare you retaliate against Santana when she was calling you endless names and tormenting you?"

"He outed her, Kurt," Blaine said, more angry now. "He exposed her to the school and then to the whole world-"

"He didn't mean to," Kurt said tiredly. "He wasn't thinking."

"I can't believe you're defending him!" Blaine cried, staring at him. "After-After seeing what Santana was like! After going through that yourself-"

"It was horrible," Kurt said sharply, eyes narrowing. "It was, Blaine, and I know it's going to be horrible for Santana too. But Finn didn't mean to do it and it's not like Santana's an innocent dove in all of this, okay? I still haven't forgotten what she did to Rory and what she said to him." He eyed Blaine's tense frame with curiosity. "Why are you so worked up about this?" he asked. "You were raging against Santana as much as I was when Rory told us what she'd said to him."

Blaine's tense posture lasted another moment, then dropped suddenly. "I-" he started, then shook his head. "I was outed," he said, almost inaudibly. "In my school before Dalton, I had this friend-well, not really a friend. He was using me to get better grades and get in with the girls because they liked me a lot and-well, he caught me with the guy I told you about, the one I wanted to go with Sadie Hawkins with. We were just kissing, and it was the first time we'd ever-"

Kurt felt that coil of dark emotion that always popped up whenever he heard Blaine talk about another guy or saw another guy eyeing Blaine, but pushed it aside. This was about more than jealousy.

"And?" he prompted, when Blaine stopped talking, staring wide-eyed at the wall.

"Well, he told everyone," Blaine said uncomfortably. "About me and my friend. They bullied us for the rest of the month and then on Sadie Hawkins-"

"They beat you almost to death," Kurt finished. His heart felt like it was being squeezed. He took Blaine's hand in his own, drew him close and kissed him softly. "I'm so sorry," he murmured, pulling back a little, staring down into Blaine's eyes.

Blaine smiled at him a little shakily. "I hated it," he said quietly. "I wasn't ready to handle it and that made everything worse. I don't want Santana to have to go through that like I did."

"Finn was stupid," Kurt said, and he didn't miss the way Blaine tensed at Finn's name. "But it was just stupidity, Blaine. He wasn't out to ruin her life."

"But he did anyway," Blaine murmured.

Kurt kissed his forehead. "I'll talk to Finn," he promised. "And by the time I'm done with him, he'll wish Santana had just killed him instead." Blaine looked slightly happier. "And we'll help Santana, Blaine. She won't go through it alone." Not like you did.

Blaine smiled at him, bright and full, the smile Kurt only got to see. "You're amazing, Kurt Hummel, you know that?"

Kurt laughed and drew him in close. "Or so I've been told. You're pretty amazing yourself, Mr. Anderson."

They kissed again for a long moment and Kurt reveled in how warm it felt, to have Blaine so close, how loved he felt. Then Blaine pulled again, eyes warm, and took his hand.

"We'd better get downstairs," he said. "Your dad will be wondering."

Kurt let Blaine lead him downstairs. He never wanted to let go of how warm and happy and safe Blaine made him feel. Silently, he promised that he would help Santana find that kind of peace - both with herself and with the world. He wouldn't abandon her. Looking at Blaine, he amended: neither of them would abandon her.

Santana, Kurt thought, with a flash of amusement, is going to have a support team whether she wants it or not.