AN: Enjoy. Thanks to the beta. Please, as always, let me know what you think. Writing is so much more fun that way.

Santana wakes up the next morning feeling a little she had swallowed a lot of sand. She groaned at her annoyance of being up so early, but was glad she had remembered to put the blinds down. She had thrown up most of the alcohol she drank last night at the bar so her hangover isn't terrible. But whatever residual alcohol she had left in her, plus very little sleep, means Santana has an extreme headache.

She lays there as long as she's allowed to. That is to say, as long as Marshmallow will allow her to before telling her that he would like to go outside. Which comes in the form of nudges to her side, and then after she ignores him, to her arms and then eventually he just starts nudging the side of her head. She wants to push him away and tell him to stop but she can't help but crack a smile, his persistence is kind of funny.

After rolling out of bed and throwing on some sweats, and heads into the living room followed by Marshmallow. She grabs his leash off of the hook by the door and turns around to attach it to him when she notices that he's watching Emily on the couch with a look that she is pretty sure is disdain. That's his couch. At least he thinks that is his couch. "It's ok buddy. It's only one night." She rubs his ear before hooking the leash to his collar and opening up the door.

She had only intended to take him outside, but once they were there she discovered it was kind of nice so she took him on an impromptu trip to the dog park down on the next block. Once they got there and were inside with the gates closed she unhooked him. She kind of already knew that he wasn't going to run off and play like the other dogs. Even when he didn't have to he stayed close to Santana. He wasn't the best at making friends, they had that in common. So she rubbed his belly when he flopped down next to her and decided they'd just stay for a bit.

Five minutes into their visit a man approached Santana. He looked harmless enough as he sat down on the bench next to her. Marshmallow apparently disagreed as he immediately put himself in between the two of them. Which was fairly common behavior. He nudged her hand, which usually meant he wanted to be pet, so she did as the stranger tried to make small talk. Santana wasn't blind, she had seen him check her out and knew what his agenda was. So when he started making comments about her dog being bigger than she was. And don't pretty girls usually own little lap dogs? She just ignored him. Between her cold and short replies, and Marshmallows obvious disapproval, he left pretty quickly.

They didn't stick around long after that before they went back to the apartment. On the ride back she thought about how possessive Marshmallow was, but he wasn't usually ever aggressive. Which she was thankful for. He was just picky about the people that he liked. He tolerated pretty much everyone that wasn't trying to hurt Santana, but he really only seemed to actively like Mercedes. He was also fond of children but really only got to see them when they went to the park and children happened to be around. She had often wondered if he would ever be protective if something bad happened. But then one night she has the misfortune of being able to find out that yes, he would protect her. A man tried to mug her when she was out walking him and apparently hadn't seen Marshmallow from where he was standing, and he tried to mug her. But Marshmallow was having none of it and promptly chased the man until he climbed onto of a dumpster. And that is where Marshmallow made sure he stayed until the police came.

When they walked back into the apartment Santana could hear Emily in the kitchen. She walked in and saw her messing with her coffee pot clearly trying to figure out how it worked. "That's cool, just make yourself at home." Emily rolled her eyes in response. Santana walked over and helped her make the coffee.

After it was done brewing they both grabbed a cup and were sitting at the table. The silence was awkward. Santana kept watching Emily, hoping they could talk about last night but not totally sure how to bring it up. But as Emily started to fidget she could tell not much had changed since she was last in the girls life. Emily does not deal well with guilt. Just watch her, let her stew for a little bit, and then give her a gentle nudge and you won't be able to shut her up. She would confess almost anything. After a few more minutes of awkward silence Santana decides to end it. "What you did last night wasn't cool."

That's really all it took to break Emily of her quickly fading cool exterior. "I know. Santana I feel so bad. I couldn't fall asleep last night and almost came and woke you up to apologize. It was stupid. I was drinking and I honestly hadn't meant for that to happen. I'm really sorry and I hope this doesn't make things weird between us, I really don't want to happen." She was pleading. And Santana believes her. She nods, swallowing her coffee.

"How did you end up there anyway?" Santana wonders. Emily looks slightly embarrassed.

"I've always kind of kept up with you on Facebook. Especially after I saw that you moved here. And you know being in New York was kind of always my dream. Then I moved here and I always wanted to message you and ask you to go for lunch or something but every single way I thought of how to ask felt awkward. But then yesterday I was checking Facebook and I saw your friend invited you to the bar, and you had replied that you'd probably see him there." Her hands fidgeted with the coffee cup so much she nearly spilt it. Santana reached across the table and stilled her hands. "Sorry. So I thought maybe if I just ran into you that it would be less awkward. Except I kind of fucked that up." Santana let out a forced laugh.

"Yeah you kind of did. But it's ok. We're fine. I missed you anyway." The last thing she wanted was to turn this into a discussion about Brittany but she owed Emily at least a little bit. "I always felt like you were kind of my little sister too. But then everything happened and I always wanted to call you and tell you if you needed me, or whatever, that I'm always here. But I assumed you would be mad at me and it all just kind of hurt a lot so I never did. It's not an excuse though. I should have called. Or stalked your Facebook or something." She winked in Emily's direction. A silence fell over the table that didn't feel awkward but she wouldn't exactly call it comfortable. Eventually Emily looked up from her coffee.

"Do you want to know how Brittany is doin-"

"No." Santana answered quickly. She didn't want to talk about Brittany. Whenever she would ask about her to Quinn or Mike she needed days to prepare. She couldn't just have things like this sprung on her. She shook her head to emphasize the point.

"Still?" Emily asked softly.

"Yeah." Santana coughed away the tightness in her throat. Emily took the cue.

"Enough of this sappy shit. Anywhere to order food? We should watch a scary movie?" And that's exactly how they spent the rest of Sunday.

On Monday morning Santana woke up to get ready for work and was as quiet as she could be so she didn't wake Emily. Marshmallow was less concerned and there were a few times that Santana was positive she was going to wake but she didn't. Before she left she put the spare key on the counter with a note.

Emily,

You don't have to take Marshmallow for a walk or anything but he might like you more if you did.

Santana

She grabbed her bag to leave the house but then thinking about it, grabbed twenty dollars out and left it beside the note.

This pattern continued for the rest of the week. Sometimes the money would be there, sometimes it wouldn't. She bought some groceries Santana noticed. And she definitely had gone and got some of her own clothes at some point. She came back on Wednesday and Emily wasn't there. Santana started to get scared that she had left permanently and they had stupidly never exchanged phone numbers. But she did come back, and upon seeing Santana look nervous, told her that she has night class on Wednesdays.

Next Monday at work Santana decided she needed to have a conversation with Emily about what was going on. She had no idea where Emily was supposed to be staying or what the extent of her situation was. When she got home that evening it was to Emily cooking dinner for the both of them and feeding Marshmallow pieces of bacon. "He pretends to like me when I'm feeding him or walking him but I don't think his feelings are real. I'm not sure what else to do."

"He's kind of a one woman guy Em. I'm sorry." Emily laughed and brought Santana a plate before sitting down herself. "Thanks for dinner."

"Anytime. I remember your inability to cook. I still have nightmares about grilled cheese and fire. My mom used to wonder how you and Brittany ever fed yourself…" Emily quickly saw Santana's face fall. "Sorry. I didn't mean to bring that up."

"No. It's fine." She brushed off quickly. "But I actually wanted to talk to you about something else."

"You're pregnant."

"You're stupid. No. I was actually wondering what's going on with you?" She sees a look of confusion cross Emily's face. "Like where are you meant to be staying? Do you have money? What's your life situation right now. Just be honest with me."

Emily briefly considers lying. She doesn't need pity. But after a second of thought she knows that she needs help right now. "Well you know I'm not staying in the dorms." Santana nods in confirmation. "I'm mostly just couch surfing. I don't have a job. Or money. Kind of at all. I have a metro card and a meal plan though so I just eat on campus in between classes. And use the money you leave for groceries and house stuff. I'm sorry I haven't said thank you. It's just embarrassing."

"Don't be embarrassed Em."

"I can't help it. But I am trying to get a job to make up the money so I can move back into the dorms. And obviously Mom and Dad are still trying to come up with the money." Santana has no faith they'll come up with it. She gets the impression that Emily doesn't really have any faith either. That's a difference between her and Brittany (she sighs at her own thoughts). Brittany believed every single time. She can't help but wonder if she still does. She forces herself to get back to the topic at hand.

"Well. I've been meaning to turn that extra office space-"

"Your video game room."

"Whatever. I've been meaning to turn it into a spare bedroom. Move the systems out here. So. If you wanted to stay here or whatever, you could." She says as off handedly as she can.

"Wait. Like I can live here for real?"

"For real." Santana smiles.

"But I can't pay rent. Yet. I'm still getting a job."

"You don't have to pay rent, I pay it fine on my own. When you get a job I want you to put what you would pay in rent into savings. Ok? That way broken promises won't hurt so bad. Yeah?"

Emily nods but can't exactly contain herself so before Santana can even brace herself she's got Emily wrapped around her in a hug that feels exactly like the kind she used to give when she was younger and she was making them promise they'd come back to visit her.

"Thank you so much Santana."

"No problem kid. Ikea this weekend for a real bed though. Marshmallow is seriously not happy about sharing his couch.

That night while Santana was laying in bed trying to fall asleep she couldn't help but think about how glad she was that she could help Emily. And as hard as she tried, she couldn't help but feel like she was just a little happier because it was Brittany's little sister, and Brittany would be so happy that someone was helping Emily when she couldn't.

The transition didn't prove too terribly difficult. There was some major rearranging of the living room but that was the worst of it. Emily was easy to live with. She wasn't noisy or messy. Marshmallow was, for the most part, indifferent to her. Emily liked to cook which meant Santana ate out less which was definitely for the better. Her friends liked Emily and vice versa. And Emily didn't really bring people back to the house.

Conversation flowed easily between them and occasionally the topic touched upon Brittany. Santana tried to get better about shutting down as soon as Brittany came up. Emily noticed though, every time. It wasn't that Santana never thought about her. But usually those thoughts were at night, when she was trying to sleep. And sometimes she let those thoughts be fantasies. She'd fall asleep with Brittany in her arms those nights. And wake up with her heart heavier than before. Then she would start the forgetting process all over again.

Emily also noticed that Santana never brought anyone home. The guys from work, and sometimes Mercedes. But she definitely wasn't sleeping with anyone on a regular basis. She had originally assumed that Santana would have slept with most of New York City by now but maybe she was wrong. She was curious but didn't exactly know how to bring it up.

One night while Emily was making dinner and Santana was sitting around talking to her while she cooked, she brought up something that had been on her mind. "Hey Em. Does Brittany know you're here?" Emily paused before answering.

"No. I haven't told her. Or Mom and Dad. They just know I'm staying with a friend." Santana nods even though Emily's back is turned to her.

"Ok." Santana assumes that means that Emily hasn't told her because she thinks it would upset Brittany to know. Which yeah, of course it would. Brittany is most definitely happy and doing well and has no desire to hear of her. She thinks that must be it. And Emily can't read minds, but she guesses that Santana's brain didn't just go to the best place because her face is pretty easy to read.

Emily wants to correct her, set the story straight, if she's got the story wrong to begin with. Brittany isn't off happy and in love, or exactly the poster child for solid long term relationships at all really. She's had a string of what felt like half hearted failed attempts. She claims it's because she's busy, and for a while Emily believed that could be true. But maybe it's not. Maybe there is more to it, and that more to it is sitting right in front of her at a table looking completely forlorn.

"What happened after you graduated? I mean I know you're here but how did you get here?" Emily asks trying to distract Santana at least a little bit.

"I got an internship at the company I work for actually. And once it was up they hired me on and I've just kind of been here all along. I love it." Emily sees a window and isn't exactly sure if now is the time to bring this up, but when else is she going to have this opportunity.

"What about your love life?" She asks in a joking tone trying to keep it light.

"I haven't really been in a relationship since…" her voice tapers off.

"Yeah but you're hot. There's no way you couldn't get some girl every weekend. " Santana glares at her before dropping her eyes.

"No." She takes a deep breath. "I mean there's been a few. But almost never more than once." Emily nods and then lets the subject drop.

Santana loves having Emily at her house. It's been almost two months and she still feels that way. It's nice to have someone to talk to regularly other than Marshmallow. There's a lot of perks, and almost no negatives. Like a friend and a little sister all rolled into one. The only negative, really, is that Santana feels like she has less control over her ability to not think about Brittany. Probably in part because Emily looks like Brittany. But also because she frequently walks into the living room when Emily is on the phone with her. Santana usually won't stick around in situations like that but she still can't help from occasionally hearing just the hint of her voice. She can almost make out the words.

Sometimes it almost feels like too much. She never looks at pictures of them. Maybe a handful of times at most. But one night while Emily is out with friends she can't help it. She's wanted to look at them for so long. So she pours herself a glass of wine before rethinking it and just bringing the bottle with her to the living room. She gets out the box of pictures and various other things she still has from their relationship and sits down on the couch. Just a few minutes, she tells herself. And then nothing but comedy movies for the rest of the night.

But that doesn't last. It never does. She's two pictures and a cocktail napkin doodle in before she can't hold the tears back anymore. Wine abandoned with barely five sips gone from it she lays down clutching a picture she took of her and Brittany in bed cuddling.

And that's where Emily finds her when she gets home. At first she's sure that Santana had been drinking, because she's passed out and there's a wine bottle. But when she lifts the bottle it's almost full, and the wine glass is still half full. She barely drank any. After she puts the wine away she comes back to investigate further. But it's not difficult because right there next to the couch is a box of pictures of Santana and Brittany. And clutched in Santana's hand looks like a picture (that has faced many other nights like this one) of the two of them in bed looking happier than she's seen either of them since then. And even though they're closed, she can tell Santana's eyes are red. And the tear tracks are still there. She grabs the blanket from the back of the couch and covers her before going to her room to avoid waking her.

Santana has basically saved Emily's ass. And she knows that. She lives there for free. Emily finds money in her purse sometimes even though she knew it hadn't been there before. Hell, Santana even gave her one of her computers to use so Emily didn't have to spend so much time at the library. She's not the same person she was when she was younger, and afraid. She's not the same person she was the day she broke Brittany's heart. And she can't help but think that maybe there's something she can do for Santana. She doesn't know if it will work for sure, but she knows she won't ever know if she doesn't try.

Santana wakes up the next morning covered in a blanket that she knew hadn't been there last night, still holding Brittany's picture. She doesn't know what to do anymore. It's been years and she still has breakdowns over this girl. And in the light of day, she wishes that she could say she regained some clarity. That nothing is worth the near constant, and occasionally overwhelming, sadness that she has felt for so long now. Except that that isn't true. And every bit of her knows at least that. That Brittany was worth it. She had been worth it and she probably always will be. And that this, this is punishment for ruining that.

She doesn't feel herself bouncing back as quickly this time. Usually when this would happen, she'd call Sugar. Or even go find another girl. But she doesn't want to do that anymore. She's too tired. The idea of putting her heart through that feels exhausting. All she wants to do is go to work, play video games, hang out with Marshmallow and Emily, and go to bed. It's not the worst life anyone has ever lived.

On one of the rare nights that Santana was cooking dinner, Emily came in and sat on the counter. "Hey San. One of my friends is coming into town, is it cool if she stays here?"

"Whatever. As long as she's not annoying." Santana said off handedly. "You live here too. You don't need to ask my permission for things like that." Emily appreciated when Santana said things like that. She liked not feeling like a guest.

Emily was acting weird. She had cleaned their very non dirty apartment three times in the past few days. "Is your friend OCD?" Santana asked while Emily was dusting again.

"No. I just want to make a good impression."

"Ohhhh. Is it that kind of friend?" Santana teased.

"Oh my God Santana no. That's gross."

"Ok Ems whatever you say." Emily shuttered and walked away from her.

A few days later she got a text from Emily saying that her friend had gotten here safe and they were hanging out at the apartment. Santana wasn't even totally sure why she would tell her that. Courtesy she guesses, but not totally necessary.

When she got home that day she grabbed the mail out of the box and walked up the stairs reading it. Bills and magazines mostly. The door was already unlocked so she just stepped in and was confused that Marshmallow didn't immediately run to the door. She walked past the doorway into the kitchen to get a drink. A few seconds later she heard footsteps, both human and dog, but she was absorbed in an email that she was reading. "Hey Marshmallow." She called out so he would come see her.

But Marshmallow didn't come running. And all she heard was a voice that she was positive she would never directly hear again.

"S-Santana?"