Santana woke up in bed. Correction, Santana woke up on a bed. Naked, spreadeagled, chained. Her throat was parched, her head hurt, she couldn't open her right eye, there was literally not one part of her body that didn't hurt. The room was pitch black so she couldn't see, but from the acrid smell that hung in the air she guessed she was still in the basement.

She felt the tears come to her eyes as she thought about that smell and she bit down on her lip to stop them. She couldn't afford to do this now. She had a promise to keep and Santana Lopez never broke a promise.

There was just one little problem…

She gave an exploratory tug on the chains and winced at the burn in her shoulder. "Get over it, Lopez." She murmured. "Places to go, psychotic exes to deal with…" She yanked at her chains again, over and over, yelling in frustration when they wouldn't give.

The door opened and a light flicked on over the bed.

"Could you keep it down in here?" Quinn said coming down the stairs. "We're trying to have a celebration party upstairs." She smiled down at Santana as she reached the bed. "Ding dong, the witch is dead…"

"You know, you really seem to have a thing about getting girls naked, Fabray." Santana replied calmly. "Something you're trying to tell us?"

"I've been trying to decide what to do with you." Quinn sat delicately down in a chair facing her. "At first, I thought maybe I would just shoot you in the head, but that seemed too easy, you know? Then I thought maybe I could get all the Cheerios to fuck you, one by one, using whatever they liked, but I thought you'd probably enjoy that, being as you are by far the biggest slut I have ever known."

"Wanky." Santana smirked, heart beating wildly in her chest. She just needed one opportunity to get out of these chains. Just one. Come on, that wasn't too much to ask, was it? She asked silently, sending a discreet look to the heavens.

"Next, I thought about cutting bits of you off, see how long you lasted, or maybe just skinning you, but then I realised that your pathetic whining would probably annoy me so much I'd just end up killing you to shut you up."

"So you decided to talk me to death? I think I'd prefer the cutting thing."

"Hmm. Honestly I can't actually bear to be in the same room as you so I came up with a much more satisfactory plan." Quinn stood up and smoothed down her skirt. "I'm going to let B deal with you."

"Excellent." Santana spat, fear crushing down on her. "Been meaning to have a little chat with that twisted cunt. Let's get this party started."

"Oh, Santana." She said, smiling over at her sweetly. "Charming to the last."

Quinn walked back up the stairs , pausing at the top to look down at her, her expression, as usual, unreadable.

"Goodbye, S."

Santana had never been a big fan of waiting. The fact that she had been shot, stabbed (twice), beaten, and was currently waiting whilst naked and chained to a bed was not doing anything to improve her patience.

Another thing she was not a fan of was not having a plan. That needed to change, and quickly. Unfortunately whatever plan she came up with kind of hinged on whatever plan Brittany had come up with so...still, Santana was pretty good at coming up with things on the fly. It's just that there was kind of a lot riding on this one. Kind of everything, in fact.

The door opened and she appeared, a bright smile on her face as she bounced down the stairs.

"Hi San!" She cried, jumping on the bed and cuddling up to her. "Sorry I kept you waiting, I was just enjoying the party so much, you know?" She ran her finger across Santana's stomach and round to the deep wound on her side, and running her hand across it gently.

"No problem, B. Just lying here, chilling, contemplating my future."

Brittany giggled. "You're so funny, baby!" She stuck two fingers into Santana's wound making her cry out in agony. Brittany smiled and straddled her, licking the blood off her fingers. "Umm, God, I really missed your noises, Santana."

"I'm so pleased." Santana gritted out, breathing heavily.

"And now you have three extra holes for us to have fun with! I can't wait to get started." She ground her hips down into Santana's lap and slowly rocked her way backwards down her thighs. Santana bit down on her lip as she realised what she was going to do. This was going to hurt. "You ready, baby?" Brittany smiled wickedly as she changed position to straddle Santana's bleeding thigh.

Santana slammed her eyes shut and pulled tight on the chains above her head, her pain setting off explosions in her head. Fuck her life, seriously. What the fuck had she done that was so wrong that she was chained up in a basement that reeked of her girlfriend's burnt corpse whilst her sadistic ex dry humped the open stab wound on her thigh? The pain and horror of it were just too much. She let out an agonised roar, which of course brought Britt to climax. She flopped down and lay her head on Santana's chest, breathing hard.

"God, that was good. I missed you, baby."

Santana swallowed down the bile that was forcing its way up her throat and wrestled her emotions back under control. "Well, I tell you what, Britt, untie me and I'll fuck you properly."

Brittany lifted her head, eyes bright. "Yeah? Like the old days?"

"Yeah," Santana forced herself to smile. "Just like that."

"Like before you broke up with me so you could fuck Rachel Berry?"

Her eyes narrowed. "You know that's not what happened. You nearly killed me."

Brittany pushed herself up and pouted. "I was only playing. We were having fun." She ran her fingers lightly over Santana's breasts.

"No, you were having fun." She answered sharply. "I was trying to.."

"Trying to what?" She asked expectantly.

"I was trying to save you, Britt. After Devon, after what Sue made you do, made all of us do, you just…" Santana let out a sad sigh. "Well, you got lost. You weren't you anymore. And I loved you. I thought I could bring you back.

A tear rolled down Brittany's cheek and she leaned down to kiss Santana deeply. Santana felt conflicted. She wanted to kill her for what she had done to Rachel, but the thought that she might finally be getting through to her, that she could still save her...Brittany was her first love. Quinn had been right, Santana would have done anything for her back then. The fact that Britt was broken wasn't her fault, this had been done to her. So she allowed the kiss to happen, hoping desperately that she could get bring her Brittany back, or at least get her to undo the chains.

And then Brittany bit her. Hard.

"What the fuck?" Santana yelled, furiously spitting blood out of her mouth. Brittany casually hopped off the bed and pulled a box out from under it.

"Quinn was right about you." The blonde said lightly. "You really are pathetic, Santana. I don't need you to save me. There's nothing to save me from. What we did to Devon didn't make me lost, it showed me the way. I love that people are afraid of me now. People were never afraid of me before, how could they be when big, bad Santana Lopez was always there to take care of anyone who dared to pick on poor, weak Brittany." She placed the box on the bed and sat next to it. "I was never weak, Santana, I never needed your protection. I think you just liked the control."

"Britt…"

"So maybe sometimes I play up the crazy." She shrugged. "It's fun. Besides, crazy people get to play with the coolest stuff." She leaned over to the box and pulled something out of it.

Santana's eyes went wide with fear.

"Jesus Christ, Britt…" She pulled hard against her chains, willing them to give just a little.

"What's the matter?" She smiled sweetly. "It'll help with the bleeding. I heard fire is good for that."

"Yeah, like a heated blade, Britt, not a fucking blowtorch!"

"Ah, what's the matter? Is big, bad Santana Lopez scared?"

"Of course I'm fucking scared, you freak!" She yelled, yanking desperately now. "I'm chained to a bed next to a psycho with a fucking blowtorch! Fuck!"

"Well, that was rude." Brittany pouted, fiddling with her new toy. "I was going to go easy on you at first but now I think I'll start with something major."

She stood up and looked Santana over.

"That cut on your eye looks pretty bad. Let's start there, shall we?" She smiled again and walked around to the right side of the bed, lighting up the blowtorch as she went.

Santana was not one for praying. It had never done her any good in the past, but fuck, was everything in her right now desperately trying to open up lines of communication with any form of higher power. She twisted wildly on the bed and pulled at the chains with every ounce of strength in her body as the blue flame came closer and closer. She turned her face away, steeling herself for the pain with a final cry and yank of the chains when it happened.

The bed broke.

The frame snapped at the end below her head, base dropping to the floor and the metal uprights tilting forward and knocking the blowtorch from Brittany's hands. As she leaned forward to retrieve it Santana realised she had some give in the chains and grabbed the blonde head with one arm, pulling it down to her chest. Punches started raining down on her injured side and her vision started to go dark. With her other hand she wrapped the chain around Brittany's neck and pulled as hard as she could, choking her. The punches stopped and the blonde tried to pull away, her eyes furiously locking with Santana's.

Then the fury died down and was replaced with panic. Santana wished with all her heart that she could stop. That they could all just stop and go back to what they had been a lifetime ago. But she knew that she couldn't, that they wouldn't. She knew if she stopped she was dead. So she held on, her arms trembling, tears pouring down her face as she watched the girl she had loved for so long die. By her hand.

As the lights went out in Brittany's eyes and her body went limp Santana unwrapped the chain, leaned over the other side of the bed and vomited on the floor.

She really needed to pull herself together. Like right now. She just couldn't. She knew that at any second the door could open and she would be dead. She just couldn't bring herself to turn around and see Brittany. She focused on breathing and willed herself to stay calm, just for a little bit longer.

She used the give in the chain to move, with her back to Britt, back across the bed and assess the situation. The bottom of the mattress at her end was touching the floor, the metal uprights having snapped at the bottom joint but not the top. This meant that she was still attached to the bed, and still had no keys to unlock herself.

"Shit." She swore. She inspected the joint closest to her, to see if that was close to snapping as well and started working at it. After a couple of minutes it gave and she was able to slide her chain out. She breathed a sigh of relief at having one hand back, but then realised that she was still attached to three corners, as well as the chains themselves, and she had no idea if the foot of the bed was even close to giving out. As she shifted on the bed something rolled into her back.

The blowtorch. She allowed herself a smile for the first time in what felt like forever, picked it up and got to work.

Twenty minutes of hot, careful, dangerous work later, during which she may or may not have been humming the Flashdance soundtrack, Santana was free. Albeit with four stylish new metal accessories adorning her limbs. Now she just had to find some clothes and get the hell out of here.

She jumped off the bed and looked around for any sign of her clothing. Finding nothing her eyes finally turned back her bed. Her stomach clenched at what she was contemplating. Slowly she moved towards Brittany's body. Honestly, she thought it might be easier to parade through town naked than take the dress off her but she really didn't need to draw any more attention to herself. Gritting her teeth she closed the gap and did what she had to do, her silent tears starting up once more.

She slipped the dress over her head as she crossed the room towards the next thing she really didn't want to do. This was the one she really thought might break her. She paused in front of the furnace and took a deep breath.

Just this one more hurdle. Through the furnace. Don't breathe. don't look down. Get to the tunnel and get out. Get to the park, then you can break down. Come on. Do it.

With a heavy heart she pulled open the door and climbed up. She pulled it closed behind her and inched her way round the edge of the still hot space. Funny how it didn't smell as bad in here as it did outside. She willed herself to keep her eyes focused on the wall and not look behind her. She finally reached the access hatch at the far end and grabbed hold of the lever.

"Ah, fuck!" She exclaimed. Metal, Santana, of course it's still going to be hot. Idiot. She tentatively put her fingertips on it quickly, trying to test out if there was anywhere, anyway she could grab it long enough to pull it open. She took the dress back off and wrapped it around her hands then returned to the lever and pulled it.

It was stuck.

"No…" Santana's heart sank. She yanked at it again. "Please no!" Her muscles were burning, everything that she had been through in the last 24 hours catching up with her all at once, and still she pulled at the damn thing. This couldn't be happening. She was so close to freedom she could taste it. She refused to let one metal lever come between her and escape.

And then her strength gave out and she collapsed, sobs wracking through her body. After everything she had managed to get through this was what caused her to break. Here she was, locked in a furnace with the burnt corpse of her girlfriend, unable to summon the strength to open the door. Feeling the panic building up inside her, the mental image fo Rachel's body becoming worse and worse than the reality could ever be. Giving in she turned around and opened her eyes slowly.

She laughed.

Rachel wasn't there.

There was a lot of debris scattered about, obviously what had caused the smell, but nothing big enough to be her remains. Cara and Puck must have been able to get to her.

Satana could not control her body with the wave of relief that washed over her at the realisation. She was laughing, crying, rocking, hugging herself…

Rachel wasn't there.

She gave herself a few minutes to be happy and get herself together before she tried the door again. It still wouldn't budge and she punched it in frustration and was cursing and grabbing at her freshly bruised hand when the lever moved of its own volition and the door popped open.

"Jesus, Lopez, put some clothes on would you?" Puck said from the tunnel. "A guy could go blind."