Hey y'all, sorry for the delay between updates. Finals and GRE and vacations and weddings and a funeral can keep a girl busy. Plus, this chapter was odd for me. I can write snarky, no problem. I can do emotional, if I'm in the right mindset. But withdrawn and anxious is a difficult tone to get right, which is odd since that's 90% of my life. Anyways, hope y'all enjoy the update, and feel free to leave reviews to let me know what you think!

I got a ponytail. I got a ponytail. I got a p-p-p-p-p-p-p-ponytail.

"What the ever-loving fuck," Santana groaned loudly. Her arm reached above her head, flailing about the headboard to try and grasp the offending noisemaker. Several objects fell to the floor with a thud and a rattle before her hand closed around the thin rectangle it sought.

I got a ponytail. I got a ponytail. I got a p-p-p-p-

"Shut up, shut up, shut up," Santana swiped her finger across the screen to stop the alarm. The phone was thicker than she was used to, and she opened her eyes with a confused frown as it dawned on her that that was so not her normal alarm. She looked at the offending phone in her hand—its aqua and pink case attributing to its bulkiness—before her eyes widened in remembrance as she took in the room around her that was most certainly not hers. The lights were still off, but the sheer, yellow curtain did little to block out the morning rays of the sun. The spare bed across from her was empty with the sheets pulled up pristinely. With no sounds coming from the adjoining bathroom, Santana realized she was alone. Brittany was gone.

She tried not to dwell on the sinking feeling in her gut brought about by the cheerleader's absence because she knew it would only lead to her panicking. She instead focused turned to logic which reminded her that the Cheerios often have early workouts which would have certainly called for Brittany's presence. She told herself that Brittany was merely being considerate by not waking her. She was always so thoughtful, after all…

Unfortunately, logic was no match for such things as fear and regret. Santana replayed the early morning over again in her mind, from her over the top confession to the way she broke down like a blubbering child in Brittany's arms. She could all but see Brittany in the locker room this morning, informing all of the other cheerleaders of the scene she had caused. She could already feel their stares in the hallway and hear the words whispered loudly behind their hands.

Santana swallowed hard as she slowly sat up, replacing Brittany's phone back on the headboard. When she stood, her foot kicked the bottle of water she had knocked down across the tiled floor. She picked it up, along with the bottle of aspirin which had a sticky note attached to the top.

Santana,

I figured you would be tired, so I didn't wake you before I left.

I wanted to let you sleep late, but we have that English test,

so I set my alarm for you.

Brittany

Santana flipped to the second note beneath it.

P.s. I tend to wake up with a headache after a teary night, so

I left out some the water and aspirin for you.

P.s.s.(?) I left you my key by the door. Just bring it to me in class, ok?

P.s.s.t.(Idk how to do this!) Don't forget, no more uniforms. Yay! :)

Santana found herself smiling by the end of the note, making a mental note of her own to explain to Brittany how postscripts work. She placed the aspirin back on the headboard, not wanting to mix it with the muscle relaxers Sasha had given her, but sincerely appreciating the thought Brittany had put in on her behalf. Perhaps she had been wrong, and Brittany truly was as kind as she seemed. Or would that mean she had been right? Or maybe this was Brittany trying to throw her off while she schemed behind her back like her old squad had. There would no doubtedly be a gaggle of Cheerios waiting for her outside of her first period class, jumping at the bit to harass her over their newfound information.

By the time she had made Brittany's bed and locked the door behind her, her underboob had begun to sweat as her heart raced. She tried to calm herself as she shuffled through her closet, but the familiar comfort of putting together an on-point outfit did little to dissipate her anxiety. She settled on a pair of dark, super form fitting jeans with a low-cut tanktop and a short-sleeved blazer on top. She looked in the mirror, wishing she had the security of her old cheerleading uniform to hide behind and adjusted her bra so that her chest was displayed even more prominently. If all else fails, a bit of cleavage goes a long way to distract hormonal teenagers, she reminded herself.

When she gathered her things and opened the door to find Kurt standing in the hall, eyes trained on the notebook in his hands, she breathed out a sigh of relief and pushed her bag towards him, "My guardian cherub."

"Good morning to you too," he rolled his eyes as he took her bag and turned to make his way down the hall.

Santana paused. Kurt was not the type to so eagerly take on any type of unnecessary physical assertion. He had to have been put up to it. And who was the one person that had been making sure that Santana was being looked after?

She quickly shuffled her feet to catch up to him as she tried to figure out what that meant.

"Ready for the test?"

"I'm going to make Chaucer my bitch," she smoothly slipped into assuredness. Being cocky was easy. She had learned that some time ago. People who are not cocky rarely question it because they don't understand the simple fact that cockiness does not equate confidence. Besides, Chaucer was right up her ally: he had a dirty mind and wasn't afraid of pissing on the assumed social norms. "By the time I'm done with that test, he's gonna be kissing my ass like Absolon in the 'Miller's Tale'."

"Is that what happened?" Kurt asked in confusion as he flipped through his notes. "All of this Old English b.s. has my head spinning."

"It's Middle English, and you do know they have translations online, right?"

"And when would I have time to look that up?"

"I saw you in the library yesterday."

"Uh, yeah, I was uploading new pics to my instagram."

"Pictures from what? The computers in the library don't have webcams, and as you of course know, we can't have our phones on us…" she raised a questioning eyebrow as her lips curved upwards.

Kurt narrowed his eyes at her, "Perhaps I have a digital camera."

"Perhaps you should be more careful with your words."

"Didn't think I had to in congenial company…"

Santana frowned as they walked out onto the grass, cutting across the lawn to save time. They made the rest of their way across campus in silence and as they approached the building in which their class was held, Santana was bursting at the seams in the need of answers, needing to know what type of environment she was fixing to step into.

"I don't think Rachel would appreciate you and Brittany being friends," she said as a round about way of stating the question that had been on her mind since Kurt accepted her book bag, making it obvious that the cheerleader was the one that sent him. Was this Brittany's way of saying nothing was going to change after her confession? Or perhaps she was simply trying to lull her into a sense of security before pulling the rug out from under her? The latter scenario was definitely the one Santana was more familiar with.

"We're not," Kurt shrugged.

"But she is the one that approached you to help me?"

"Yes."

"Then why did you agree if you two are not friends?"

"Because you and I are friends."

Santana's initial response was to gag at the corny look on his face when he made that declaration, but she managed to refrain herself. Kurt's response did nothing to inform her of where she stood with Brittany and only served to confuse her about the nature of Kurt and Brittany's relationship. According to Brittany, she had gone out of her way to make sure that Kurt hadn't been taken advantage of, but Kurt seemed to loathe the other girl because of the way she reacted to Rachel's not-so-subtle digs. "You do know that there may be a good reason Brittany treats Rachel the way she does…"

"I do."

"And you still take Frodo's side, anyway?"

"It's what friends do."

"How does that make you guys any different than Quinn and the Cheerios?" Santana wondered out loud. "You're just going along with Rachel's whims blindly, whether she is in the right or not."

Kurt opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He ran a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair and sighed, "I guess since we actually care about each other. I mean, it's not like Brittany has ever done anything for me to garner my allegiance."

"No? So the whole agreeing to be your girlfriend during your little identity crisis thing, that wasn't her doing something for you?" Santana's frown deepened, and she could feel the stitches pulling at her temple.

"It's Brittany. She did it so she could say she's made out with every boy in the school."

"Do you honestly believe that?"

"She's a slut, Santana."

Santana's face reddened, "You're an idiot." It wasn't her best insult, she knew, but she had always found it difficult to retort when she was truly angry and not merely annoyed about something. Usually, when that happens, she has to take a step back to gain some clarity before being able to properly rip into a person. The fact that an insult not even directed at her is what made her angry enough to falter threw her for a bit of a loop, though.

"You know, I can't say I haven't noticed you two getting cozy together in class, but still, I never thought I would see the day when you would actually take up for a Cheerio. Wasn't it just last week you were cursing them all? You do know that she is one of them, don't you?"

Of course she knew Brittany was one of them, that was the precise reason why her stomach had been doing summersaults since she'd woken up. But at the same time, she could not just stand there while someone spoke complete lies about her. That would make her no better than any of the other gossip mongers, and she had made a promise that she would be better, and she was done breaking her promises to herself. "I really think you should ask Brittany about it."

"I did, when she asked me out. She's the one that said it was for her make-out list."

Santana shook her head, "There's more to it than that."

"She's a Cheerio, Santana. They are grade A manipulators. You can't believe a word any of them says, and please, don't be so cliché as to let her baby blues convince you that she is somehow different from the rest of them—"

Santana bristled.

"—because she's not, and it makes you look pathetic. She's just as corrupt. I mean, look at what she did to poor Artie."

"You do know Artie went to a Chess competition, not the hospital, right?"

Kurt looked at her in confusion.

"Haven't you been in the glee club with him all semester? Do you guys not talk?"

Kurt shrugged as they paused in the doorway of their classroom, "He's an asshole. But my point still stands," he nodded towards the front row of desks where Brittany sat in her red and white cheerleading uniform.

Santana's face paled as Brittany giggled at whatever joke Finn had just made beside her; it was all too easy for her to imagine that she was the reason for their laughter. She knew this scenario. Any second now, all eyes would be on her, and her conversation with Kurt had left her no more prepared for the outcome of said looks than she was upon first waking.

"She's one of them, and in their eyes it's them against us, so yeah, I'm gonna take Rachel's side, every time, no matter what lie Brittany's short skirt has managed to convince you to believe."

She ducked her head as she entered the room and took a seat at her desk between Sam and Kurt, just behind Brittany and Finn, doing all she could not to focus on the way that Finn's hand rested familiarly on the back of Brittany's chair. For a moment, it looked like Brittany was going to turn around and acknowledge her, and Santana was sure she was going to vomit, but then the teacher walked in with a stack of blank tests in his hand and an issue of "Silence" on his lips.

Thankfully, her assessment of her knowledge on the subject of Chaucer proved to be correct and she breezed through the test, finishing before anyone else in the class. However, the teacher would not let them leave until the bell rang, so she slid on her headphones and put her head down on her desk and closed her eyes. She bumped the volume up loud enough to block out her own thoughts and easily slipped into a dreamless sleep, as her body eagerly added to its all too brief respite of the night before.

Far too soon, in her exhausted opinion, she felt herself waking up as her headphones were gently pulled from her left ear. Her hands flew up to hold them in place and her eyes shot open in agitation, a snarl and string of curses on her lips for whomever had been stupid enough to interfere with her music, only to be greeted by a set of long, toned legs that set her jaw slack. Her gaze slowly crept upwards before landing on a red and white skirt that caused her to jolt upright in her desk as she wiped the drool from the corner of her mouth. Her heart pounded as Brittany looked down at her with a satisfied smirk. She glanced around to find the classroom empty. This was it. There would be a group of Cheerios pouring through the classroom door any moment now.

"I believe you have something for me," Brittany noted, her voice low.

Santana felt her legs turn weak and was thankful to be sitting. She mentally cursed Kurt for putting thoughts about short skirts and blue eyes in her mind. Her eyes struggled between wanting to calculate the best escape route and wanting to stare unabashedly at the pale skin openly on display before them.

"I…" she answered dumbly, her mind unable to focus as her body refused to settle on a single reaction towards the girl in front of her.

"My key, silly," Brittany giggled, holding out her hand.

"Oh," Santana blinked twice before fully catching up to the conversation. "Oh, yeah, here you go," she dug the key out of her pocket before handing it over. She stood from her desk, watching wearily as Brittany picked up her book bag for her, waiting for a bombardment of either questions or hostility.

Instead, all she got was Brittany looking to her expectantly as she shouldered the bag, "Where to next?"

"Um, Biology," she replied hesitantly.

"Anatomy is my favorite," Brittany noted.

"Wanky," Santana couldn't help but crack. Brittany's ensuing giggle caused the tension between her shoulders to lessen, but when they walked out into the crowded hallway, she stiffened once more.

"Are you still hurting a lot?" Brittany questioned under a worried gaze. "I could get you a pass to get out of class early so you don't have to worry about people bumping into you in the crowds."

"I don't think being Queen gives you that privilege, but it's fine; I'm fine."

"I did it for Blaine and Kurt so they could help you," she reminded. "Sue has a notepad of passes and excuses that the Cheerios can use for anything."

"Of course she does," Santana frowned.

"Well…not all the Cheerios, but some of them."

"So just you and Quinn?"

"And a couple others," Brittany fiddled with the straps of their bags.

Santana nodded, "Does it not bother the others that even within the elite there's a hierarchy?"

"I'm sure you already know the answer to that," Brittany frowned. "It's why Quinn is the way she is…it's why you were the way you were at your old school."

Santana froze as Brittany brought up the previous 24 hours' conversations for the first time. She nervously met Brittany's eye when she paused to look back at her in question.

Brittany tilted her head at her, gaging her reaction, before offering a gentle smile, "If it helps, I try to only use the excuses for good."

Santana briefly wondered how scared she had to have appeared for Brittany to know to redirect the conversation, but then remembered that this was Brittany, the girl who could probably pick up on her fear before she herself even recognized its presence. It was quite the useful talent. Perhaps, she should look into getting back into dancing, herself. "Why? What teenager doesn't want to skip class?"

"I can't exactly afford to miss any lectures," she shrugged as they began walking once again. "Perhaps, if I were smart like Quinn, then I would do it more willingly."

"You're smarter than Quinn in a lot of ways," Santana replied in earnest.

"But not in ways that help my grades…"

"Don't the jocks and cheerleaders just get a free ride, anyway?"

"Yeah, and if I relied on it, then I'd get to college and be even more lost than I am now."

Santana attempted to hide her surprise at the idea that Brittany appeared interested in college, "Aren't the Cheerios like number one in the nation? I'm sure you can get on any collegiate squad, and it'll be smooth sailing once again."

"And what will I have learned?" Brittany sighed. "I can't be a cheerleader for the rest of my life."

"They have professional cheerleaders," Santana pointed out.

"And you can about imagine how short their careers are. What am I to do after that? And what if I get hurt long before then? What do I have to fall back on? A worthless degree with no true knowledge of anything."

"You've really thought about this," Santana said, clearly impressed.

"I'm not that much of an idiot to think that I can simply smile my way through the rest of my life," Brittany picked up on the implication that Santana had not even realized she was making.

"I don't think you're an idiot at all," Santana shook her head.

Brittany rolled her eyes in disbelief as they neared her next class.

"I don't," Santana insisted, pulling her off to the side of the hall.

Brittany frowned down at where Santana gripped her arm.

Santana quickly retracted her hand, "I don't, because you aren't. You just…you think differently. Your brain follows different paths. I saw that when I borrowed your notes. It was interesting as hell to see."

"Interesting doesn't mean intelligent."

"You just…You seem to have gotten behind somehow, and with the Cheerios grueling schedule, it's no wonder you've had a hard time catching up."

Brittany opened her mouth, a thoughtful expression on her face, but the first warning bell rang, and she sighed, "Let's get you inside, so I can get to class. I've got Spanish next, and I have a hard enough time with the language I'm supposed to already know, I'm a missile at trying to learn another one."

"Abysmal?" Santana offered as they entered the room.

Brittany's shoulders sagged.

"Sorry," Santana's eyes fell to the floor. "That's wasn't cool."

"No," Brittany lightly touched her wrist, keeping her from sitting in her desk. "I appreciate it, I do. Most people just ignore it or laugh, neither of which is helpful at all."

Santana's wrist burned under her touch, and she stared down at the long fingers splayed across her skin, her mind drifting back to the way it felt to be wrapped in her arms earlier that morning. Damnit, Kurt, she mentally scolded. "You know…I'm fluent in Spanish. I can help you if you'd like. And in some of your other classes, as well. Math is not my strong suit, but I've got high marks in everything else."

"You'd do that for me?" her voice was so hopeful that Santana couldn't help but look up and take in the way her eyes flickered in excitement.

"Of course," she breathed lowly, only barely managing to refrain from muttering, Anything.

"You're the best," Brittany beamed, giving her wrist a squeeze before placing her bag down for her. "I've got to go, but I'll catch up with you later, okay?"

Santana waved after her, finding herself hoping that later would come sooner.

+++++++twt+++++++

"They're plotting something," Tina announced as she slammed her tray down on the table.

"Who is?" Kurt questioned eagerly, pushing away the jiggling glob of macaroni and cheese on his plate.

Santana glared at the pair of them in annoyance as she started to pull on her headphones.

"The Cheerios."

Santana lowered her headphones back around her neck.

"What is the Cheerios' problem?" Mercedes demanded as she joined them, her plate stacked with tater tots.

Santana looked at her own plate with a frown. She didn't remember there being tater tots on the food line.

"Have you heard something too?" Tina asked.

"No, they're just staring over here like a kid looking through a pet store window," Mercedes motioned to the jock table where, sure enough, a group of Cheerios were looking their way with eager grins plastered on their faces.

"They're probably just going to send another Freshman over to tell us we can't sit together," Kurt waved them off.

"Too bad they can't," Santana supplied surely.

"Really? Because that seems exactly like something they could and would do," Mercedes said.

"Santana's getting a soft spot for the Cheerios," Kurt rolled his eyes at her.

Mercedes and Tina turned to her in confusion as Santana scowled at Kurt.

"Brittany told you to help me with my bags," Santana replied evenly. "You're here with the Queen's permission...They can't tell us shit."

"All hail the Queen," Kurt held her gaze.

"No, she's right. They've been up to something all morning, and while they may be a bunch of mindless drones, it wouldn't take them all morning to come up with a plan to try and split us up for lunch," Tina said thoughtfully.

Santana looked down at her untouched food as she shifted in her seat. She had a feeling she knew exactly what the cheerleaders had been talking about all morning. She thought back to her promise to help Brittany and scoffed at her own stupidity. All it took was two seconds in the other girl's presence, and she had once again let her guard down. It had obviously been a mistake, and with the Cheerios' current scheming, one she could could not afford to make again. Although...the way Brittany had deftly steered their conversation away from topics Santana was not ready for remained in her thoughts. Maybe Brittany had nothing to do with this. Just because some of the Cheerios were involved, didn't necessarily mean all of them were.

"Guys, the Cheerios are up to something," Rachel informed as she sat at the table, clearly out of breath.

"Well, look who's decided to slum it with the lesser folk today," Mercedes commented.

Rachel glared.

"We were just discussing it," Tina explained.

"You guys are worrying over nothing," Santana replied as she moved the food around her plate, no longer feeling anything remotely close to hunger. Of course Brittany was involved. How else would the Cheerios even know about her confession if not for her? Her fork scraped across her tray and she didn't even flinch. She wondered if it were possible to throw up on an empty stomach. "It probably has nothing to do with you."

Rachel shook her head, "I heard them specifically mention the glee club."

The glee club? Santana's head raised at that. Maybe she was wrong, after all.

"So, that's why you joined us," Mercedes nodded. "You realized they didn't give a shit about you after all."

Maybe it had nothing to do with her.

"Look, I have heard rumblings of them plotting something that involves us, and I thought you guys would like a heads up, okay?" Rachel bit back, crossing her arms over her chest. "One would think you'd be a bit more appreciative."

Maybe it really was just another notch in the Cheerios vs. Glee Club bedpost.

"Have you heard any specifics?" Tina pressed.

Rachel shook her head.

Maybe-

"Just that Quinn and Brittany have been hard at work. Nobody's seen either of them since first period."

"Brittany?" Santana croaked out before clearing her throat. "I mean, are you sure that she's involved?"

"Yes, I am sure. From what I hear, it's her idea," Rachel explained.

Told you so, Kurt mouthed across the table with a grin.

Santana pushed her tray away and stood up weakly. So much for not using the passes for herself, Santana thought bitterly. She wondered how many other things Brittany had lied about. Had any of the things she'd shared been even the slightest bit true? 'Manipulative' was the word Kurt had used. He really had tried to warn her.

"Where are you going?" Mercedes asked. "If this is true, we're going to need your diabolical brain to help us out here."

"Sorry, I can't help you," Santana shook her head as she backed away before turning and hurrying out of the cafeteria. The Cheerios' laughter ringing in her ears long after she passed their table.

+++++++twt+++++++

Santana spent the rest of the afternoon, hiding out in her dorm room, blaring music and catching up on the last few remaining make-up assignments she had from the week before. Rachel had asked if she could meet her in the choir room after classes let out for an unofficial practice, but she could imagine very few things she would like to do less. However, she soon became sick of looking at the white, cinderblock walls around her, having spent far too much time locked up in her room in the past week for her sanity, and slowly made her way over to the library. She stopped by her locker first, relieved to find the hallways of the school building utterly empty, and grabbed her history notebook so she would at least have something to do since she had left her bookbag in the cafeteria, along with that morning's homework assignments.

Upon reaching the library, she refrained from going upstairs, convincing herself it was because she didn't have her laptop on her (true) and not because she was afraid she would have to face Brittany (less true) and managed to wrangle a cubby at the far back of the computer lab where she set to work researching the answers to all of the notations that had been adding up in the margins of her notes. With her headphones on and Billy in her ears, it did not take much for her to become utterly absorbed with the information in front of her. She had fallen so far down the historical rabbit hole that when the timer went off on her computer stating that the library would be closing in ten minutes, she was sitting with her legs clenched together as she read about Archduchess Maria of Austria and how she popped out a whopping sixteen kids in a measly 28 years and still managed to be influential in various courts throughout Europe. Not that any of that would be covered in class, especially with Mr. Schuester's insistence upon whittling World History down to simply British History, and an extremely masculine version of it at that, but she had long ago settled her mind around the fact that she would have to take her education into her own hands if she wanted to ever get anything out of it.

She logged off the computer and gathered her notes, waving at Jean on her way out. Normally, she would stop to chat for a couple of minutes, but so would Brittany, and she would rather like to keep up her current good fortune of avoiding her. When she stepped outside into the brisk evening air without her notes to distract her, her mind was already starting to drift to Brittany and the Cheerios as she worried about what exactly they had in store for her. She knew she couldn't afford another late night with minimal sleep due to her fretting, so she made her way to the gym in the hopes of working herself into an exhaustion.

The workout room was empty when she got there, bar the lone P.E. teacher who glanced at her student i.d. and a security guard making his rounds. The Cheerios' workouts would have finished several hours before with the football taking over after them, but they only ever stayed an hour at the most, despite having the gym reserved for longer. These facts did not ease the fear that rose in Santana's throat as she entered the locker room. It sounded empty, her footsteps echoing as she hurried to her locker and changed into her workout clothes. She was slipping on her shirt when she heard the door to the locker room open and close, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. She slipped on her tennis shoes, not even bothering to tie them and rushed around the row of lockers, only to find the exceptionally large girl wrestler she had often run across at the gym starting to change. Apparently, only the Cheerios and the football team were allowed to reserve the gym as a team, members of any other team were left to their own devices. With the Cheerios, Santana could begrudgingly accept their special treatment; the halls were lined with their national championship trophies, after all, and winning teams brought in large donations, so of course, it would make sense for the school to want to make sure they continue their legacy. But as for the football team, Santana had looked up their records, and they had not had a winning season in over a decade whereas the wrestler girl was a state champion, a fact she had made sure Santana was aware of one night when she was caught using one of "her" machines. Santana, of course, had informed her where she could stick her championship medal, but she still could not help but scoff at the unfairness of it all, though only briefly—she was finding her world to be chock full of unfairness and to dwell on each and every one would take up all of her time, leaving her with no energy for anything but pity for herself and those around her.

Santana exited the locker room and made her way out into the gym with a sigh of relief at not having been cornered in the locker room once again—truly, it had happened so many times at her old school that it was now a rather cliché strategy that she hoped Brittany would be too creative for. After all, now that she knew she was going to be betrayed, she figured she might as well try to make the most and find some sort of enjoyment out of it.

She knew lifting weights was out of the question, and the up and down motion of the elliptical was still a bit too much, so she settled on starting out at a slow walk on the treadmill, gradually increasing her pace until she was at a light jog. She tried going faster, but as soon as her breathing deepened, her side ached in protest, so she settled into her jog, keeping pace for longer than she normally ran, enjoying the feeling of breaking a sweat after being practically immobile for so long.

By the time she made it back to her floor, it was a minute shy of curfew and her shirt was damp and her arms covered in goosebumps from the cool night air flicking away the perspiration on her skin. There, she found Karofsky standing sentinel outside of his door, and when Santana met his eye, she froze under his hard stare. She wondered how someone so relatively young could be filled with so much hatred for people he hardly even knew as he held her gaze menacingly for a moment before glancing down at his watch and back up at her with a scowl. He turned on his heel and entered his room with a huff, his door closing heavily. Santana felt a slight shiver crawling up her spine that she shook off as best as she could as she entered her own room. He had been waiting for her.

"Where have you been?" Rachel demanded as soon as Santana closed the door behind her. She was sitting on her bed, her legs under the covers and a book opened on her lap as she glared heatedly across the room.

"Why is everyone stalking me?" Santana demanded.

Rachel's face wrinkled in confusion, "What? Who is stalking you?"

"You and Karofsky, apparently. I'm pretty sure his creepy ass stayed up to make sure I got in before curfew."

"Oh, yeah, you're in glee club now, so you'll have to get used to him trying to make your life miserable."

"Like hell, I will. I'm gonna go all Lima Heights, next time he pulls that shit. Now what about you? Why are you going all single white female on me?"

"I'm not stalking you," Rachel rolled her eyes. "I would just appreciate it if your friends did not make house calls when you aren't even here. I should not have to entertain people whom I do not feel-"

"What are you going on about, Berry?" Santana tiredly waved at her to wrap it up.

"Brittany came by," she pursed her lips in dissatisfaction. "She was looking for you."

"Oh," Santana dropped her notebook down onto her desk and began gathering her toiletries and pajamas so she could take a shower. "Is that all?" she asked, feigning boredom as her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach.

"No, that is not all, Santana. You know that girl is dreadful to me, and I would really appreciate it if you told her not to come by here anymore."

Santana snorted, "I don't think Brittany's the type to be told what to do."

"This is my room, and it should be a safe space. I should not have to worry about being harassed when I am in the comfort of my own lodgings."

"Ever stop to think that maybe if you weren't so condescending to her, she wouldn't be so mean to you?" Santana turned on her. Here she was, once again defending the girl who was plotting her demise. Fucking Kurt. Then again, if she had to choose between a good back-stabbing and listening to Berry's constant snotty, holier-than-thou dribble, well, bring on Brutus. "I mean, you act like her behavior comes from nowhere, but that's not true. You are just too self-absorbed to realize that you are not the victim here, and that the blame is just as much, if not more so, yours. So you know what? No. No, I will not tell her where she can and can't go, and you know what else? You will not complain about this or give me any passive aggressive bullshit about it because I am actually doing you a huge favor by not informing the Queen that one of her subjects thinks she can order her around."

Rachel opened her mouth to argue, but Santana cut her off; she had far too many other things to be dealing with to humor Berry's delusions any more than she already had.

"Go on, try me; I fucking dare you," her voice came out in a near snarl. "I would love to see how much more miserable she could make your life after she finds out."

Rachel's mouth quickly snapped shut, and Santana nodded once in satisfaction before walking into the bathroom and locking it behind her. She turned on the water and carefully peeled her workout clothes off her skin with a minimal amount of grimaces before stepping under the pleasantly hot shower stream. Her hand braced against the wall, she hung her head and allowed the water to splay along the back of her neck and shoulders. She couldn't remember a time when she had ever been so utterly exhausted.

+++++++twt+++++++

When Santana opened the door to her dorm the next morning to find Brittany standing there, waiting for her, the only response she could muster was a sigh of resignation.

"Are you okay?" Brittany stepped towards her, all concern.

Santana wondered how many acting classes she had taken in the school's theatre department because she was quite good at it. Would the Cheerios even be allowed to take a class that could possibly be deemed 'dorky'? Dancing did require a certain level of acting, though, so she supposed Brittany could have picked up her skills there.

"You missed history," Brittany pointed out when she did not respond. She reached for her book bag and Santana allowed her to slide it off of her shoulder.

Santana knew the confusion shone in her eyes as she wondered why Brittany had returned for their shared class after skipping the rest of the day. She wondered if her not attending had messed up part of the Cheerios' hard thought plan. One can hope, she thought bitterly. Why should she make this easy for them after all? It was not like her to simply roll over and take it, and she had promised herself that she would never run again—fight over flight. Always.

She straightened up.

"Cramps," Santana finally spoke with a nonchalant shrug, turning her eyes away, knowing how easy Brittany could read her. "Perhaps I could borrow your notes?"

Brittany's face instantly lightened, "Of course! I can get them to you when we go study tonight, I mean, if you want to, that is?"

"Sure," Santana forced a smile.

"So…I've got a surprise for you," Brittany informed with gleeful smirk.

Santana's façade crumbled as her chest tightened painfully. Did she really take this much delight in making a person miserable?

"What?" Brittany's nose wrinkled in confusion. "Do you not like surprises?"

"It's not like I've had a whole lot of good ones, lately," Santana's voice came out more abrasive than she would've liked, but even after a decent night's sleep, she was still feeling utterly drained. She could not keep going on like this.

"You are going to love this one, I promise," Brittany grinned with pride.

Santana glanced at her out of the side of her eye before a strong hand tugged her towards the opposite wall as the elevator dinged and the doors opened.

"Santana," Brittany frowned as Santana stared forlornly as the doors closed before her and the elevator lowered without them inside. "Santana," Brittany called for her attention, as her hand squeezed the bicep it was curved around to hold her in place.

Santana looked up at her impatiently. She knew she had hoped for something creative on Brittany's part, but she suddenly found herself wishing she would just get it over with, whatever it was. "What's up?"

"You tell me," Brittany pouted. "You've been acting weird since you got to class yesterday morning. And now, I try to cheer you up, and you look at me like I'm trying to convince you that Santa Claus is real."

"What's the surprise, Brittany?"

"I can't tell you," she shook her head.

"How about I guess, then, hmm? Is it you and the Cheerios cornering me in the cafeteria to out me?"

"What—"

"Or maybe you use your title to have Berry announce it to the entire school over the intercom?"

"Santana—"

"But no, that's not nearly good enough. I mean, I told you about my old school, so you would have to try and top that, right? So what? Perhaps you plan on taking it one step further by paying someone to go out with me until I actually fall in love this time and then make some big reveal, going all Tywin Lannister on my ass."

"Santana—"

"Though, that seems more up Quinn's ally. You, you're more unpredictable. I have to hand it to you, Brittany, you're so hard to read that I truly do not know what to expect. But I guess that's the point, right? It wouldn't be fun for you if I saw it coming. It wouldn't be a true surprise then, right?"

"Santana, stop it," Brittany snapped as she stepped closer, forcing Santana into the wall behind her.

Santana tensed, realizing she was completely trapped. Her mind, stuck on fight, set to work trying to track down scathing insults, knowing she had to end it before things got physical because she knew her side would never be taken over the star cheerleader's, and she would once again find herself expelled.

"You…you have no idea…" Brittany shook with anger, and Santana found herself feeling truly scared as Brittany leaned into her, bringing their faces closer together. She towered over her by several inches and spent way more hours in the gym day in and day out than Santana ever did, even when she was completely healthy. She did not stand a chance if things got physical. "You have no clue what you're talking about."

"I've been in this situation before," Santana reminded lowly as blue eyes bore down into her own.

"And you think I'm like those girls?"

Santana stared at her defiantly.

Brittany visibly deflated. She let go of Santana's arm and took a step back, "How could you think that?"

"Have you given me any reason not to?" Santana stepped away from the wall, finding it easier to think now that Brittany had given her breathing room, and her heart slowed considerably as she realized that Brittany wasn't going to hurt her, not here, at least.

"Didn't I?" Brittany's voice cracked. "I thought I had. I…I thought I was being a good friend. I went out of my way...I tried to help you. I tried to make you happy, to make you trust me…"

"So did they—"

"Stop!" she hardened. "Just stop it. Santana, you can't go through life like this. You've got to let this go."

"What they did—"

"Is disgusting," Brittany agreed emphatically. "But you do know that that is not the norm, right? Maybe in a handful of small towns in the Bible belt where the population is too poorly educated to know better, but it is not true for the majority of us. For the most part our generation could not give less of a fuck about who you were screwing and would be willing to fight for you against anyone who gave you trouble over it."

"Brittany, my entire school turned on me because I was—"

"A bitch. They didn't turn on you because you're gay, Santana, they did it because you were a bitch."

Santana's face heated up at the insult.

"Don't try to deny it, you know it's true, you said as much the other night. They just used your sexuality because it was the only thing they had that could get to you, but it is not the actual reason they turned on you."

Santana stared down at tiled floor with her fists clenched.

"But you aren't like that anymore," Brittany stated softly as she took a careful step forward. "The people here don't hate you because you haven't spent the past however many years making their lives miserable."

"I'm not exactly nice, Brittany," Santana shook her head, her jaw set. She continued to stare at the floor as her eyes stung, watching as Brittany's white shoes came into view.

Brittany chuckled, "You're snarky. People love that. And you stand up to those that try to knock you down. People love that even more."

Santana drew in a shaky breath, "I've been so sure since I woke up yesterday that you were going to use this against me."

"I would never do that. And like I said, if I did, I would be the one everyone turned on, not you."

"I wish I could be as confident as you."

"You just gotta trust people."

"I can't do that."

"Then just trust me."

Santana looked up, feeling her chest tighten at the sincerity in Brittany's eyes.

"Please," Brittany urged, her hand finding purchase on Santana's arm once more, though this time her thumb soothed over her skin comfortingly. "Trust me."

"O-Okay," Santana managed to croak out.

"Yeah?" a hopeful smile spread across her lips.

Santana nodded as she hurriedly wiped the tears from her eyes.

Brittany beamed, "You won't regret this. I promise I will never do anything to harm your trust."

"That's good," Santana confessed. "Because I don't have a whole lot of trust left, and I don't think I could take it if you did."

Santana felt the air being expelled from her lungs as Brittany's body collided into her own and wrapped around her in a tight hug.

"I promise," Brittany insisted, giving her an extra squeeze before pulling away.

"So…" Santana laughed nervously as Brittany pressed the button for the elevator. "Does that mean you'll tell me what the surprise is?"

Brittany shook her head, "Sorry, Santana, I can't. I promised others that I wouldn't, and I keep my promises. Just…trust me, okay?"

Santana gave a reluctant nod as they entered the elevator, "Alright."

"I think we're going to be late for class," Brittany noted.

Santana scoffed, "At the rate I've been going, they're lucky I'm even showing up at all."