A/N: Hi guys! It's good to get some feedback, for my first story, even if it doesn't seem like much at first! So a big thanks to sadpanda15, Lolathe17th, and slbsp-33 for being the first ones to show interest in my story!

I probably won't usually update this quickly, but I already had the second chapter written and I just couldn't go to sleep with it buzzing around in my head, so here it is! We'll be meeting Brittany in this chapter :)

One last thing, there were some convention errors in ch. 1. I tried to be more careful this time, but I'm a really awful typist, so I apologize in advance.

Chapter 2

It's late when she walks in the door, and the acrid smell of alcohol burn her nose as soon as she walks in. She can usually keep him from drinking so much if she's home, but lately Mrs. Schuester has been keeping her later and later, insisting that she's pregnant, and need help with absolutely everything. And the later she gets home, the emptier the bottle is; she could probably set a clock to the amount left by now.

Tonight, though, something seems different. The smell is stronger, for one, and there was no drunken jeering at the radio chatter. Walking into the living room, she can see why.

Her papí lies limp on the couch, jaw slack, arm dangling off the side, almost brushing the empty bottle lying on its side on the floor. Realizing that the smell was coming from who knows how much moonshine soaking into the filthy carpet, she hurried over to get rid of the bottle and sop up what she can.

As she approaches the couch, though, she gets an uneasy feeling. Something's wrong. There's no rumbling, drunken snoring rattling in his throat, in fact, his chest isn't moving at all. Reaching for the bottle, she brushes his hand. The contact sends her stumbling back. It's stiff, and ice cold.

Papí? Papí!

...

Santana wakes with a start, chest heaving, eyes wide, until she takes in her surroundings.

Goddamnit.

Not even a complete change of scenery can stop the memories from seeping into her dreams.

She rises and pulls on her old housework dress, a soft, light, simple red calico with a skirt reaching to her ankles and small, puffed, off- the-shoulder sleeves. She knows she'll sleep no more that day, though a glance out her window shows the sky isn't even beginning to grey with dawn. Leaving her hair loose, she steals quietly across the floor, and out into the early morning air.

Moving has always calmed her after dreams like that, although wandering the streets of Chicago in the early mornings may have been ill-advised. The air is cool for May, and she can feel goosebumps prickling her arms and her legs.

She can hear what must be her uncle puttering around in the barn, so she creeps around the other side of the cottage, not sure if he would approve of her early jaunt. She continues around the back of the cabin, toward the stream she'd seen from her window.

She heard it before she saw it, a cheerful gurgling, and the closer she got, the more pronounced it became; finally reaching the water's edge, she realizes that it wasn't really a small stream at all, but was about 15 feet across, and maybe a foot or two deep.

There's a footpath running along the bank that she hadn't noticed before, and, intrigued, and decides that she should have enough time to follow it for a while before the sun came up, if only to distract her from the memories trying so hard to escape from their carefully constructed cage.

...

She hasn't been walking long, maybe ten minutes or so, when she comes across a dilapidated split rail fence. The sky is just beginning to lighten now, and bird calls are echoing through the trees, mingling with the gentle murmur of the brook, which had widened out into a shallow ford.

Santana vaults over the fence, assuming from the look of it that its owners were long gone, and approaches the edge of the water. The mud bank is churned up, and the weeds are fairly short here.

Deer maybe?

Regardless, it looks like whatever they were are gone. It's quiet and peaceful here, so she sits down on the spongy, mossy ground on the edge of the mud and just watches the stream gurgle over rocks, branches, and other debris that was deposited here when the current slowed.

All at once, she hears the bushes rustle just on the other side of the ford. Her mind flashes to all the awful things that she'd ever heard of living in the woods, panthers, wolves, bears! She was alone, what could she do against something like that? What should she do? She rises slowly, weight on the balls of her feet, poised to run, still unsure if she should.

Every nerve in her body is taut, stretched like a fiddle string, until a huge brown head followed by pair of broad shoulders pushes out of the brush. Deep, gentle chocolate eyes hooded with coarse black lashes peer at her curiously, as if they can't seem to understand how this girl came to be in her pasture, interrupting her breakfast.

A cow. Good Lord, I almost ran for my life from a cow. I suppose that would explain the fence though…

She relaxes again, still standing, looking at the beast now standing partly in the stream, rear hooves on the bank. She's never been so close to a cow before, living her whole life in the city; she's so absorbed in watching the huge animal stoop to sip the water at its feet, that she stumbled backwards, startled, when a quiet, "Hello," breaks the near-silence of the morning.

Wide eyes snap up the source of the voice, who had emerged from the trees behind what Santana assumed was her cow. Santana's eyes dart to the fence for a moment, considering whether or not to run, and then back to the girl standing in front of her.

She looked about Santana's age, dressed in a pink dress so faded and tattered that it appeared white in some places and pink it others, with an edge of brown dust around the hem. The skirt and sleeves were too short, and Santana could see scratches from the briar patches she'd just struggled through criss-crossing her arms, legs, and bare feet. Looking up from her bare legs, Santana takes in golden hair, snarled but still hanging in waves almost to her waist, framing one of the most striking faces she'd ever seen.

A pale complexion, dusted with freckles and shaded a subtle pink across her cheeks from the sun, a delicate mouth turned up just slightly in a shy, questioning smile. The last thing she saw were those eyes. Startlingly blue, framed in dark golden lashes, they were slanted just a bit, giving them just the right amount of unique allure. Captivating.

Unaware of her (discomfort, uneasiness, shock, giddiness? She wasn't really sure how she was feeling right now), the other girl begins to speak.

"Um, hello, I was just looking for Betsy. She wanders off sometimes you see, and she needs to be milked. I'm Brittany, and I've never seen you before, did Betsy ask you to meet her here? I think she wanders off so much because she's trying to find someone to take her with them when they pass through, she gets bored of the same old pasture day after day after day, but she doesn't have a bad home, we're friends and I love her and I'd miss her if she left, and so would Lord Tubbington! He doesn't really have anyone else for company in the barn because I'm not allowed to sleep in there; I have to sleep inside, even though sometimes the barn is warmer in the winter."

Santana just blinks at her for a moment. She had just been told, in the sweetest most innocent voice she'd ever heard, that this girl was friends with a cow, a Lord lived in her barn, and she seemed completely sincere. Looking back at her wide eyes, Brittany seems to remember something.

"Oh! What's your name? Papa always says that I talk too much, I get ahead of myself and forget about whoever it is that I'm talking to, but I think it's because I don't get new people to talk to too much, so it's like the words build up and up and up until I start letting them out and I can't stop!"

She said it all in one breath, and by the end the words were running together so quickly that Santana wasn't quite sure what had been said. Brittany clapped her hand over her mouth, looking for all her talk exactly like she couldn't control what came out. It should've looked ridiculous, but somehow, she looked incredibly cute. Santana decides to disregard most of it and just answer the original question.

"I'm Santana."

Brittany grins, and it's probably one of the most sincere smiles Santana's ever seen in her entire life.

"Hi Santana! Why are you sitting in the woods in our cow pasture so early in the morning that the sun's not even awake yet?"

I guess it is an odd situation to stumble upon.

"I woke up early and decided to go for a walk, the path led here. It was pretty, so I decided to stay."

Brittany nods knowingly.

"This is my quiet spot. I come here when-"

She stops and a cloud of emotion sweeps across her countenance. It was dark, and Santana can't help but feel that it doesn't belong on such a bright face.

"It's just where I come sometimes. Where were you walking from?"

"My aunt and uncle live down that way, I moved in with them yesterday."

"Oh!" recognition flashed in blue eyes, "The Nelsons! That's great! I've never had someone my age live so close before, we could be friends! I've never had a person-friend before-" she stops for a moment to wade into the stream and place her hands over the cow's ears, "But I've always wanted one. I love Betsy and Lord T, but they don't always wanna do friends stuff."

Splashing the rest of the way through the water, she grabbed one of Santana's hands in her both of hers. She's taller than Santana, but somehow still manages to look like a hopeful child in that moment.

"You will be my friend, won't you Santana?"

She asks the question surprisingly shyly, as if she expects a quick "No." Were it anybody else, that's probably exactly what she would've gotten from Santana, but something about Brittany had her saying, "Of course," without sparing it a second thought. Then Brittany's smiling that smile again, and she knows she was right.

Glancing at the sky, she sees the sun just peeking over the horizon; more time had passed than she thought. Brittany seems to notice at the same time and says, "I really gotta get Betsy home now, Daddy gets snappy sometimes when I dawdle. Will you be here again tomorrow morning, or tonight?"

"Tomorrow morning," Santana replies, "My aunt might have me busy tonight, I'm not sure."

Brittany hadn't stopped smiling.

"It's nice to have a friend, I'm really glad I met you, Santana."

She stoops and pecks Santana on the cheek before splashing back across the ford. Santana is still standing there, fingers raised to her cheek, as if she could feel the prickling heat there, when Brittany and Betsy disappear into the trees.

"Me too."

A/N: I realize that Brittany might seem a little forward, but that's just Brittany, and as we now know, she doesn't have much experience with people, so can we blame her? Of course not, because she's adorable.

Next chapter will be from Britt's POV, finding out a little more about what her home is like.