"Do I look okay?" I asked Santana, who for some reason had appeared at my door forty-five minutes ago, saying she was here to help me get ready for my date with Mike. How she had found out about this, I don't even know. But I couldn't help but be somewhat grateful to her. I hadn't been on a date in what felt like forever. They weren't really Puck's thing either.

She sighed dramatically. "Damn, Quinn, you look great. Incredibly sexy. I think I've already told you this ten times, so shut it."

I returned her spectacular sigh, and for added benefit, rolled my eyes at her too. Choosing to ignore the compliment, I turned to look at myself once again in the full length mirror once again. The baby doll dress I had chosen was from my early pregnancy. With a little careful layering, you couldn't tell that it was made to support a little something extra.

"I don't know, San, what if he thinks I'm pregnant again? I wore this dress all the time when it fit," I moaned to her.

With another token Santana Sigh®, she hauled herself up from my bed, where she had been painting her nails with my nail polish. "Q. If it weren't for my wet nails and the fact that I probably shouldn't put a bruise on your face right before your date, I would slap you. You look amazing. Mike is not going to notice the dress enough to think you're pregnant again. He's a frickin' guy."

Even though I knew she was right, I still had to worry. This was my first real date with Mike. It had to be perfect.

"And because I know you're going to ask, your hair is lovely. And so is your makeup."

I spun to face her. "Actually, I wasn't going to ask about my makeup. You would have taken it as a personal insult, seeing as you did it."

She laughed. I couldn't help but smile. Santana laughing was such a rare event. It was weird, because she such a nice, joyous laugh.

"That's right, honey. No one knows makeup like I do."

I leaned in closer to the mirror. "Damn right," I informed her. As always, the makeup was impeccable. Just the right amount and shade of everything. These were the kind of things I found myself envying Santana most. Not her position in the school's social ladder, not her perfectly toned body and her Cheerios uniform, or her ability to get pretty much anyone she wanted to sleep with her. It was her amazing talent with makeup that I wanted, or her beautiful handwriting, or her ability to pick up languages extremely quickly. Of course, she was already fluent in Spanish and English, and was pretty near fluent in French after only three years studying it. The things that most people didn't know Santana could do were the things I was most jealous of, strangely enough.

"But anyway, Santana, I've being meaning to ask you. Why the hell are you here?" I asked, finally parting with the mirror and flopping down next to her on the bed.

She batted her eyelashes at me, pasting a false expression of hurt on her face. "What's the matter, Q? You don't want me here? We were best friends once, you know."

Like she cared about that.

"Well, yes, no… I don't know if I want you here. It's kinda strange, San. For the most part you've been ignoring me ever since… last summer, and it's surprising that you came to help me. How did you even find out about my date?"

She sighed yet again and (shocker) rolled her eyes. "I have my sources."

I sat still for a moment. "But why? Do you suddenly not view me as scum anymore?"

"Q, I never thought you were scum. I just had to treat you like it."

"I feel like I should pursue that. But I'm gonna let it go. For now. At the moment, I'm more concerned with the fact you didn't answer me. Why?" I demanded of her. Another moment of silence passed.

"Honestly, Quinn… I don't know. I just knew I had to help you." This surprised me. How un-Santana like, to want to help someone other than Brittany. I wondered what to say to her next.

I studied her for a moment. I knew I may not get another chance to talk to her like this, but I decided just to let it go and be grateful.

"Well, thanks, Santana. I owe you one," I informed her.

She turned to look at me. Her deep brown eyes peered into my own emerald green ones for a moment, as if she was searching for an answer to unvoiced question.

"You're welcome. And you don't owe me. Just consider this a small repayment in return for nine months of abuse." With that, she got up from the bed and left. Dumbfounded, I sat, not even bothering to call her back. Santana helping me out of the kindness of her own heart? And apparently feeling remorse for the nine months of hell she had put me through? Had there been some cosmic change in the universe I hadn't even noticed?

Five minutes or so later, the doorbell rang through the empty house. Peering out the window, I saw it was Mike.

I smiled, forgetting about the whole thing with Santana. Time to do this thing.

Ok, so I know this chapter was short and there was no Mike, but it's really late right now and I felt this moment had to have a chapter of its own. Santana needed some kind of redemption. Worry not, I'll update as soon as I can with the details of Quinn and Mike's date.

And also, I think Santana is in Schue's Spanish class on the show, but here I'm assuming she's fluent and she'd rather learn French then be bored with Spanish. So just go with it.

And remember... Reviews are a form of virtual love.