I'm afraid it's just a short chapter for now, but good news, I finish the last of my exams next week! A few of you asked where I get the inspiration for my Santana from, and I think it's a mix of things, to be honest. The hostility is inspired a little by Katniss Everdeen from The Hunger Games, and the way she speaks is just the way I'd imagine her to act when I think of my version of her in my head, really.

Anyway, here's Chapter 12!

He wasn't supposed to have been there.

He wasn't supposed to have been just waiting, sitting so calmly, at the table almost as soon as she woke up.

"Buenos días, Santana." She'd been standing in the kitchen for no longer than a few seconds when the rage began to burst inwardly.

"What the fuck?" She cursed, eyes ablaze with a fresh wave of anger.

"Hija, please, calm down." Her father said, using the same tone he would for her when she was little older than a child. Only, he hadn't been there since she was a child. Further rage began to scratch at the skin of her neck, leaving it to become a definite crimson shade.

"Where is mami?"

"Gone for work. Santana, please-"

"Shut up! God, are you a complete idiot? What the fuck are you doing here?" Santana cried, furious with the man that was sat so calmly, so simply, at their breakfast table. At her breakfast table. "How did you even get in?

"Oh, hija. Do you forget that I was the one who had this house built?" He smiled coldly.

"I forgot that when you walked out, daddy."

"Don't patronise me, Santana. It doesn't bode well for you."

"What do you want?" She snapped quickly.

"I told your mother I wanted to see you over the weekend." Her father shared the same inexplicably dark eyes as Santana's, ones that seemed to lead only to the golden splashes inside them.

"Well, the weekend had already been. So, father, why don't you tell me what the fuck you're doing here?" She growled, cheeks flaming under her father's grating laughter.

"I just want to talk with you, hija."

"You lost that opportunity when you left." She snarled, the burning in her chest repeatedly growing more powerful with every second her father spent in the room.

"You've grown so much, Santana." He observed.

"Did you think I was going to wait around for you? I apologise."

"You were never this hostile when you were younger." Something about his comment infuriated the flame that was already lit inside Santana's chest. She struck out at the glass of orange juice that sat close to her father's open palm on the table, sending it towards the wall, where it shattered into tiny fragments of glass. Shards landed at her feet, across the floor, almost landing in her hands as though they were there for her to catch before they scattered to the ground.

"Get out."

"Santana, if you would just-"

"Get out! Get the fuck out!" She cried, dropping her father's gaze and focusing on the miniature splinters of glass that had buried themselves under her feet. Finally, her father seemed to realise the extent of her rage and hurried out of the kitchen, straight past her. She stayed watching the thin pieces of glass settle around her feet until she heard the brief, final close of the door.

Then, and only then, she allowed control to escape from her.

She turned to the closest wall, breaths shallow in her throat, and smashed her fist against it, flecks of dry wall paint mixing with blots of blood as groaned in agony. She continued to pound her fist against the white of the wall until her vision failed her, and she could see only a darkness when she opened her eyes. She fell back to counter opposite the bloodied wall and slid down against it, pressing her palms to her forehead as if to bring an end to the memories that her father's appearance had brought to her.

She wrapped her arms around herself and pretended that the blood gathering in her palm didn't exist, focusing on only the thoughts that had the ability to calm her. She squeezed her eyes shut until the prickling in her hands was subdued, no longer important. She let her throbbing thoughts settle on Brittany, to the only good thing that had entered her life after the point where almost everything felt like a threat, a point for destruction.

But the thoughts fell apart into a clump of unimportance once a realisation slipped in.

Sooner or later, Santana would destroy any good thing that dared to touch her life.

She didn't allow herself even a single word until she was home. Until she had stormed out of her car and thrown open the door of her house, leaving an imprint of dried blood on its handle. She slammed it shut with a forceful kick before walking into the lounge and subsequently sinking to her knees. Santana let her hands drop to the floor, careless to the stains they would leave on the rough carpet, and hung her head. She wanted to search for all that was wrong with her, all that had buried itself into her, and tear it out. She remained, comforting herself by ignoring the constriction of her body, until she heard the twist of the door handle, the opening of the unlocked door. She scrambled upwards, spinning to find warm, cerulean eyes on her.

"Santana." Brittany said, taking in her dishevelled appearance, horror temporarily registering in her widened eyes. "W-what-"

"Get out. Please, just get out." Santana's voice was a poor imitation of a sneer but she no longer had the strength to carry out even a faint snarl.

"No. I'm not going anywhere." Brittany said firmly, feet almost rooted to the ground.

"Why? Can't you see how much easier it would be if you weren't here?" Instead of an answer, Brittany pressed her fingers to Santana's forearm gently, like she was afraid that she would break.

But that it was all it took.

The smallest of gestures was enough to shatter Santana's resolve completely. Santana collapsed straight into Brittany's body, burying her face into the warmth of Brittany's neck. She fell into Brittany with such strength, that Brittany felt herself stumble backwards in an attempt to stabilise both of them. She crashed to the floor along with Santana, wrapped around her body tightly, and landed with a stifled groan. She pulled Santana further against her, wrapping her arms around her before leaving one hand free to brush the strands from her forehead.

"Santana?" She began, but Santana only gave a faint whimper into the crook of her neck in reply, curling her fingers into the centre of Brittany's back. "What happened?" She murmured into Santana's hair, the scent of vanilla clear in her sense as her lips met the crown of Santana's head.

"Him." Santana said, words muffled by Brittany's neck. It only took the syllable for Brittany to understand her, to understand why it was necessary for them to crash together until their arms tangled messily around one another. "He turned up, Brittany. He fucking turned up and expected his daughter to fall into his arms." Santana tightened the arms that met around Brittany's back as she mumbled, despair pooling in the bottom of her stomach.

"It's okay, it's okay. Just stay quiet, now." She whispered, puzzled as to how Santana could possibly feel so weak in her arms. "I have you." She promised, eyes closing shut as she pressed a kiss to Santana's cold forehead. She sat further forwards and pulled Santana closer into her lap, until she could rest her head against the protective barrier of her chest. Santana leant against the spot that Brittany pulled her into, ear falling to press against her chest, so she could almost hear the density of the heartbeat slipping through Brittany's ribcage.

"Don't go." Santana managed, though her body was numbing as she came close to falling asleep in the warm arms that were held around her protectively.

"No, I'll stay." Brittany whispered back. "I'll stay with you." She thought she heard Santana mumble a word in answer, but when she looked down, she found only Santana's eyes to be closed, lips tucked into her mouth as she settled against Brittany's chest. And despite it all, Brittany almost felt content.

Because this was where they both belonged, crashing into each other while the world collapsed around them.

There was a form of happiness that stirred through her body at watching Santana curl up against her body, lips forming the breaths that she released in sleep. A form of foolish content rippled in her chest, until she pressed her hands to meet Santana's palms and remembered the wounds that were still there, still painted with dried blood. She shifted to give a little of her warmth to Santana's cold body, letting her chin rest over Santana's head. She felt Santana breathe against her chest, tiny snores coming from her body as she settled herself beneath Brittany's chin. She still hadn't received a complete explanation as to why Santana had weakened in her arms, draping her body around Brittany's. But surrounded by one another, with Santana's arm wrapped around her waist, fingers trailing subconscious across her spine, there was not a thing in the world that could interrupt them.

She left another warm kiss on Santana's cheek, just above the splattered bruise on her jaw, and let out a slight laugh.

Santana had twisted her entire world, forced her to question each and every thing that had been so secure before and yet, Brittany did nothing to calm the coil in her stomach that came with the warmth of Santana asleep, entangled in her arms.

The tangled heap of hair beneath her chin tickled her jaw, just as the breaths transferred to her skin felt strange and unexplored. She lifted Santana's hand to her lips and pressed them against the cuts there, washing over them with kisses.

"I've got you."