I'm sorry for the wait guys :( I guess after I Do I just kinda lost my mojo for a little while. Is it bad that Quinntana didn't phase me in the least? I thought it was hot...

Thanks again for the alerts, favourites and reviews! Please keep it up! Also, if there's a Brittana moment (argument, challenge or whatever) let me know! Of course, they'll get together but until then, how about you give ideas on how they compete? And what would you think of a Brittany POV before they get together? So like, we all know more about Brittany than Santana does? Let me know :D

This is a flashback to when San had recently gone off the rails...

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Rough, plastic-like material scratched at the back of my hand as the cigarette burn in my hoody pocket shifted with my body as I walked. My fingers knotted together and unknotted over and over, buried deep in the kangaroo style pouch. I kept my head down, subconsciously watching as my dirty, ripped sneakers hit every crack in the worn down pavement, the steam of my breath interrupting at irregular intervals. With my hood pulled far over my head, my face was cast in shadow even the brightest of breaking streetlights couldn't light up. The cold bit at my knees through the holes in my favourite jeans but with my mind on other things, I barely noticed. The solid object in my left pocket gently jabbed my thigh repeatedly with each step, causing a mild discomfort.

The sound of laughter and glass shattering across the road attracted my eyes, only minutely turning my head to see around my hood. Five boys were sitting atop the jungle gym in the middle of the run down play-park, laughing and drinking out of bottles that were horrendously disguised by plain paper bags. Looking closer, I recognised them to be Seniors from my school. Jerks.

I gently sighed to myself and continued walking, realising I'd slowed down a fraction.

"Hey, yo'!"

I stopped and smirked downwards. "What?" I called casually over my shoulder.

"Show me your face, man." The voice called, an air of menace about it.

Slowly, I turned on my heel and looked up at them, shrugging. "Problem?"

The smallest of the boys, a guy called Anton, laughed loudly and nudged his friend so hard he nearly fell off the climbing frame. "Dude! That's Santana 'Lesbo' Lopez!"

My eyes narrowed and I felt my hands curl into fists in my pocket. My lips turned up into a snarl.

"Holy shit! It is!" The largest, Micah, shouted. The other three guys turned their heads and stared openly, their eyes a little glazed, blatantly drunk.

"Yeah? And what?" I growled defensively.

"Watch your tone, dyke." Micah returned, hopping down and stalking towards me. "You realise who you're talking to?"

My nostrils flared as I sneered up at him, inches away. I really hated that word. "Sure, I do. Some pussy who thinks he's cool as fuck drinking in a kids park.

I stumbled back a bit when his hands came up and gave my chest a shove but otherwise I stood my ground.

"Watch it, asshole. Wouldn't want to start something you can't finish." I warned lowly.

Micah laughed darkly. "I could take you, easy."

His friends hollered and laughed behind him, encouraging him.

"You really wanna take that bet?" I threatened lowly. "Wanna see how far it gets you?"

His lips turned up in a malicious smirk and he pushed me back another few steps, following closely. "Do you wanna see how far challenging me gets you? I ain't afraid of hitting a dyke."

My own lips twitched as I tried to contain my grimace. "I really hate that word…" I muttered.

Micah chuckled and brought his hands up to grasp the front of my sweater. "What word? Oh, you mean 'dyke'?"

I sighed and shook my head. I reached into my left pocket slowly, discreetly. "Call me a dyke… One more time."

"Dy-"

Within the first syllable he uttered, I had the switchblade out of my pocket, knife flipped out and pressed to his throat.

Micah cut himself short and whimpered, quickly dropping his hold on me and raising his palms in surrender.. His friends immediately shut up, apart from the single "Holy fuck, dude!"

"Shh, shh…" I said calmly. "I told you not to call me that."

He gulped harshly, his Adam's apple pushing against the steel.

"You're fucking crazy!" He exclaimed.

My knife pushed just a little harder against his neck. "Maybe… But maybe you're crazier for thinking you could take me down…" I contemplated.

"I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry I called you that!"

"Sorry you called me what exactly?"

He let out a whine as I tilted my head and exaggeratedly shifted my grip on the pearlescent black handle, nicking his skin just a little.

"Sorry I called you a d-d-…!"

"Say it. Tell me what you shouldn't have said. I want you to learn." I whispered seductively, leaning closer into him so that our faces were inches apart.

"Duuude… She cray…" Came from one of the drunken fools.

"I'm so sorry, okay? I'm sorry I called you a dyke!" My blade dug in a little on the last word.

After a moment of glaring him down, I pushed hard, causing him to trip on the edge of the sidewalk and fall on his ass in the pot-holed road. He gulped as he stared up at me with wide eyes and rubbed at his neck to soothe it.

"Run along now, your friends are missing you." I snarled.

I grinned as he scrambled to haul his ass up and practically sprint back to his friends, trying to hide behind one of them from my line of sight.

"Kids these days…" I chuckled darkly to myself.

The walk to the store was quiet and uninterrupted after that.

There was duct tape covering one of the windows, attempting to hold together all the broken shards and a sign on the door with the words 'NO TWO CHILDREN IN THE SHOP AT ANY TIME'. The LED 'Open' sign flickered and fizzled, the 'p' missing altogether.

*Bing*

I kept my head down as I entered the basic corner shop, glancing over to see the owner leaning back in his chair, feet up on the checkout and newspaper in his hands. I went straight to the back of the store to where the liquor was. Grabbing a bottle of Jack, I slipped it into my hoody pocket, glancing around in case anybody happened to see me.

As I moved through the aisles, I slipped random things (twinkies, tootsie rolls etc...) into my pockets and waistband.

"Hey!"

I stopped and turned slowly towards the tills.

"What do you think you're doing?" The man had stood up and had his news paper rolled up in his hand like a bat.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" I asked, shrugging my shoulders. I'd been caught, there was no need to pretend.

"Empty your pockets!"

"What're you gonna do, chief?" I quirked a brow.

"If you don't empty your pockets, I'm gonna call 911!" He shouted, unnecessarily loud.

"Oh, there's no need for that." I said, taking a step closer.

"Stop right there!" His voice shook with uncertainty.

"But, sir, I'm gonna empty my pockets. I need something to put the stuff on, don't I?"

He took a step back from the desk as I took a few steps closer.

I reached into my pocket and paused before taking out the Jack Daniels and putting it on the wooden surface.

The man, Charlie according to his name tag, let out a breath and slouched a little.

I slowly reached into another pocket and quickly withdrew my switchblade again, clicking the release and pointing the weapon at him, only inches away as I stretched out my arm. "I told you there was no need for the cops. Is there?"

Charlie shook his head quickly and pushed the bottle towards me. "Just take it and go!"

"I'll have four twenty decks of American Legend Reds too." I jerked the knife in the direction of the cigarettes to the side of him and back.

He whirled round and back with the smokes in record time, practically throwing them at me in his haste to have me out of the shop.

"I'm gonna need a bag." I rolled my eyes.

I smiled menacingly at him as he put everything into a paper bag for me, moving fast. When he was done, I calmly took the bag and strolled out of the shop with a wave over my shoulder.

With a burst of courage, Charlie shouted back at me. "If I ever see you in here again, I'll-!"

"You'll what? Call the cops?" I popped my head round the edge of the doorframe and raised a brow.

His shoulders dropped in defeat at my lack of care of his warning.

"That's right." I hummed before turning and leaving.

*Thunk*

"What on earth was that?"

"S'nothin'… Don' worry 'bout it…"

"Santana, are you drunk?"

"Mmmnope!"

A light flicked on, breaking the darkness. I blinked what felt a thousand times, trying to get used to the intrusion.

"San, you just dropped an empty bottle of bourbon on the floor and pretty much slammed the door loud enough for the neighbours to hear. You're drunk."

I giggled loudly. "Okay, I lied, I'm verrrry drunk!"

I heard Quinn tutting to herself but couldn't find the effort to be annoyed.

"Look, Quinnie! I got you a t-twiiiinkie!" I reached into my jeans but came back fruitless. Confused, I frowned, turning my hand around this way and that. "Huh… S'gone…"

"San, it's okay, you can get me another one tomorrow."

"'Kay…" I went to take a step towards her but my head started spinning real bad and I lost my balance. I managed to catch myself on the end of my bed though, just. "Mmaybe a lil' sick…"

"Oh, God, no!"

I heard urgent footsteps and within seconds, Quinn was beside me with an arm around me, leading me to her en-suite bathroom. She let me down gently so I was kneeling in front of the toilet and my hands came up to grasp the edge of the bowl. I could feel the contents of my stomach swirling violently as I waited for it to come up. Quinn soothingly ran her fingers through my hair, collecting it into a pony to keep it away from my face. With one hand she rubbed circles on my back and repeatedly told me I was going to be okay. I hadn't realised until she'd said that that tears were streaming uncontrollably down my face and I choked back a sob.

I felt fucking horrible.

Fucking Micah... I genuinely despise that word...

Anyway, let me know what you think! :D