Author's note: I know, I know. It's been a while. And trust me, I'm really sorry. School has been annoying (As expected) and busy (also as expected) but I'm trying, I'll keep trying until... well, just until. (For now)

So for now, enjoy, review, blah blah and y'know the rest

When they pulled into one of the several garages of the Lopez Estate, Santana was the first one to make a move. She got out of the car and looked at the unmoving blonde. Santana walked around to the passenger side and opened the door. Only then did Quinn take off her seatbelt and get out to walk beside Santana, into the house, into the kitchen. They walked out of the room once Santana grabbed two bottles of water from the refrigerator, and then went upstairs.

Once in Santana's bedroom, the brunette put the two bottles of water on the desk then turned to face Quinn, who was still stood in the doorway. Quinn had been in this house, in this room countless times. But never had anything looked so unfamiliar to her. Every single detail was now foreign. She studied the room.
A desk, a king sized bed, a walk-in closet on the left and an en-suite bathroom on the right. There was a chest of drawers on the left wall, next to the window seat. The room was simple in detail. But as plain and dark as it was, it couldn't be more personal to Santana.

Santana gently cleared her throat, making the blonde jump slightly. Their eyes locked and they seemed to freeze. "Joey should be home soon, so go and have a shower. I'll get you some clothes, and then we'll go eat, okay?" Quinn nodded and Santana ushered her to the bathroom as if she were a baby taking her first step, her hand barely resting on the small of Quinn's back.

Once she heard the spray of the water hitting the shower floor, Santana turned to her chest of drawers and pulled out the sweats and an old football jersey of her brother's for Quinn to wear.

Then she picked up the house phone on the bedside table, calling the one downstairs. 'There's got to be someone in the kitchen' she told herself. When the call was answered almost immediately she kindly asked for some bacon sandwiches to start being made.

"Would you like me to bring them up for you?" came the voice over the phone.

"No, no, thanks, we'll come down for it in a bit." After that she hung up. 'Being the daughter of the boss of the modern mafia you're a part of has its perks' she thought merrily, then came the next thought, 'Not always the best thing though…' Her mind wandered to that one unforgettable day 5 years ago.

That damned babysitter.

*Flashback*

She had told Joey that she didn't need a babysitter, but he insisted, telling her that it was what her father wanted. So Santana stuck her nose out, her head tilted with her arms folded across her chest, her signature hip-cock and stated "It's not like I'll even know he's there, one week isn't even that long."
The next morning Santana stood in her garage, in front of Joe's car watching three men load their gear into the shiny black transit van. While Joe put his duffel in the trunk of his black muscle car, Santana glanced at her shadow for the next seven days. A scrawny young man, one of her Daddy's new recruits, probably fresh out of high school. Santana was not impressed, he looked like a nervous wreck, and he was in charge of the Boss' most valuable thing, his most prized possession.

His daughter.

Santana looked up at Joey with pleading eyes and voiced her thoughts "But Joey…" She almost whined, dragging out the last syllable of his name. "It's only a week and you'll be back real soon. Plus, I'm almost a grown up anyway. I don't need a babysitter." The younger Lopez had a knack for persuasion when it came to pretty much anyone, but then again Joey wasn't 'pretty much anyone' he was… well, he was Joey. Yet, she always tried

"San, you know I wouldn't do this unless I really have to. You just promise me you won't give Damian too much of a hard time, alright? He's here to take care of you."

He had crouched down so that he was eye level with the young girl, placing a hand on her shoulder as he spoke. Santana chanced a glance at her figurative brother, knowing that she couldn't say no to him. So she put on her 'whatever' face and nodded with a mumbled "I promise." Not attempting to object to his statement of her needing to be 'taken care of'.

Joey returned to her with smile and leaned in to kiss her on the forehead with a slight ruffle of her long, deep brown hair.

He stood up and turned to Damian with a stern face and said, "You're going to take care of her," Then faced Santana once more with a warm smile, leaving the babysitter quivering. "I'll be back before you know it San," And with that he got out into his car and set off to work with the three burly men in the transit behind him. Once they were out of sight, Santana turned to walk straight into the house.

"Santana? Santana! Shouldn't you do some of that homework Joey gave you?" Was all the girl could hear from behind her as she made her way to her study room.

"It's the summer, stupid. No school, tutoring or homework over the summer," Was Santana's responses before she slammed the door to her study in Damian's face.

The babysitter stood there dumbfounded, already regretting accepting this job. Not looking forward to the next week, but promising himself he'd do his best to survive nonetheless. He had no idea what he was in for. "W-well your dinner will be ready in an hour so don't be late," He stood there, attempting to show power through his voice. He was clueless.

After the fourth morning Santana had just about had enough. Damien was pathetic, in her eyes. He stuttered, stammered, he tripped over his words and attempted to be the boss. They had just got a phone call from Joey, telling them he'd be home the next day instead of staying the extra two days.

"I'll be home tomorrow so I'll take that wimp off of your hands. See you tomorrow kiddo, I'll probably be back around two or three. Bye," Is what he told her, merrily, briefly. Obviously the job went off without a problem. If it hadn't, then he wouldn't be home on time, let alone early, and he also wouldn't have been so happy.

Damian called Santana down to the kitchen for food around midday, interrupting Santana from her book. Personal studying, she told Joey when he called her a bookworm. She threw her glasses down with a huff and pushed her chair out from underneath her desk then stoop up.

'Just one more day, then he's gone.' She thought in an attempt to motivate herself somewhat.

Santana dragged herself to the kitchen, not without struggle, and sat up on one of the light leather stools at the island in the centre of the room. Santana sat silently, politely waiting for her meal. When Damian placed her plate clumsily in front of her. She eyed the contents of the dish, chicken, not bad, mushroom was also something she could make out in the mash up of vegetables.

"What's in this?" She spat out, poking her food with a fork. Staring at it as though she was half expecting it to grow legs and then run away.

"Just some fresh chicken breasts, slice and diced, then fried with a sesame oil and h-"

"WHAT? Are you trying to poison me?" Her voice rose and Damien sat there in shock.

"What? Don't be stupid, of course I'm not!"

"Stupid! I'm stupid now?" She was livid, to say that the temper on the eleven-year-old was completely terrifying, was understatement. Damian jumped out of his seat and put his hands out defensively in front of him.

"You idiot! Don't you listen to a thing you're told?" She shouted, not impressed when Damien attempted to answer her obviously rhetorical question.

"I- no. I- I mean yes. I do- I just-" His unconvincing excuses were cut short as he doubled over and fell to his knees, clutching his stomach in pain.

Above him, looking down on him, was an enraged Santana Lopez.

Her eyes seems to have gone bloodshot, her tiny fists now clenched so hard she had started to bleed slightly out of the crescent shaped grazes on her palms. Her body had gone completely stiff, her only movement was her temples rising as she clenched and unclenched her jaw.

She spoke two words. "Shut up." And with that she started moving without thought.

Her anger from the past few days had built up and was now being unleashed on the terrified young man, who was now curled up on the floor.

Joey leaving her. Sticking her with this pathetic excuse for a man. Said pathetic excuse bossing her around unfairly. 'Don't do that. Don't say that. Go and do this. Go and do that.' She hadn't had a second of peace without him burning holes into her as he watched over her shoulder. With every reason that made up her anger, she kicked him. With every kick, she gave one more, twice as hard, to make sure he felt it.

A blow or two to his head and his cries for help quietened, but not silenced.

Another few kicks and he had stopped struggling to defend himself.

Santana only realised she had stopped lashing out when she heard the voice behind her. "Shh, Santana, it's okay. You can stop now. It's okay."

She turned to the source of the voice she longed to hear, those comforting hands rubbing slow circles on her shoulder blades as she clutched onto his now creased shirt collar. Santana didn't say a word as her father held her.

Nicholas Lopez had been seen in many ways, being a father was only for his children's eyes and his children's eyes only.

The man on the floor was barely alive, he was very much unconscious, and his breathing was slow and shaky. But her was alive.

Santana had not realised who was holding her, or who she was grasping onto for her life, but then it hit her. The musky scent on his cologne, that metallic smell she could never place, but always found comfort in. She snatched her hands away from his collar and stoop up straight, she sniffled once more and blinked away the remaining tears from her eyes.

"Papi I…" She realised that she didn't know what to say to him.

The older Lopez was still crouched at eye level with his daughter. His face was blank, giving off no emotion. His deep brown eyes- identical to Santana's- flickered to the unmoving man on the floor behind his daughter then back to Santana.

Santana saw the shift in his gaze and tensed up once again. She opened her mouth to try and speak but was stopped by a single calloused, worn but warm finger to her lips.

"You don't have to say anything. Just Listen," His tone was gentle, quiet, but just loud enough so that Santana could hear him. "I'm only home because I heard Joey will be back early and I needed to speak to him. I know he's not due back until tomorrow, so I came to see you Mija. I heard you screaming so I came to see what was going on in here. No, I'm not angry with you. I don't want you to forget what's happened here though, okay?"

He paused for a moment while Santana nodded her understanding, her lip quivering slightly. Nicholas placed his hands gently on his daughter's shoulders , and as she relaxed into the touch, he continued speaking. "I mean it San, I'm not angry with you. I'm sorry. I know how you're feeling right now, one day, when you're older, you'll understand why I'm saying this to you." Again he paused, to make sure she was paying attention. She was. "I'm sorry Mija. You probably don't get it right now, but I'm sorry. Now I want you to go and clean up, upstairs, and when you come back down, we'll have something to eat. You'll be okay Santana, he will too." This wasn't so much a demand as it was reassurance, Nicholas was comforting her.

He ushered her to the bottom of their staircase and nodded when she paused at the first step and glanced at him. After she received encouragement from her usually absent, but still loving father, she made her way to her bathroom, aware of those familiar eyed still watching her every step. Only when she closed her door behind her did she let out a breath she was unaware that she was holding in.

Back in the kitchen, Mr. Lopez had called in Tommy from one of the staff houses on the other side of the estate. Tommy was his official, personal, 'clean-up man' and one of his oldest friends. Tommy saw the young man on the floor and scrunched his face up in confusion.

"Isn't that Santana's babysitter?" Tommy asked, already fearing the upcoming conversation.

"Yes… Tommy… she's only eleven. I thought she could stay out of this. Now I have no choice. What… is she too young? Even after… after this?" Nicholas gestured to the man on the floor.

Tommy kneeled down and stretched two of his fingers out to feel Damian's pulse. "Too young? Nico, you were born fighting. Your brother started working when her was seven and he-"

"And look where that got him. It got him in a hospital bed telling me what he wanted me to write on his gravestone the next week. Tommy… she's my only daughter. Losing Rico to this, and now Joey is, he's my son now, he's part of this too."

They were silent for a moment, both calm and the Nicholas spoke again. "Tom, could you take care of this? Make him better, get him treated. I want him to live, I owe him that much."

Nicholas ' sudden change in attitude did not shock Tommy, all he could do was nod.

Before Nicholas left the room, Tommy put his hand on his shoulder and said "Nico, it's not your fault. This was bound to happen, there was nothing you could do to stop it. And things are going to happen in the future that you won't be able to stop. She will probably join, and you will have to accept that. It's not what you want to hear, I know. But you need to, best from me than anyone else, I'm sorry."

Nicholas deflated at this, he was waiting for those words. The only response that Tommy got from his friend was a saddened smile and a simple few words.

"That damned Lopez temper. He just didn't know she's allergic to sesame."

With a devastated air about him, Nicholas walked out of the room.