Disclaimer: Glee and its characters and all associated material are not mine. I'm just having fun.

It was Saturday morning. Brittany was coming home in an hour, and Santana could barely contain herself. She was pacing around the living room, checking her phone every few minutes to see if by some miracle Brittany had come home early and texted her.

"Will you chill out? You're giving me motion sickness" Sam called from the couch. She was sprawled across the furniture watching Saturday morning cartoons, and Santana's constant pacing was making it very hard to concentrate.

The two girls had resumed talking the night before. Neither had actually apologized to the other, but Santana felt a little better about things after spying on Sam that afternoon, and Sam had accepted the fact that Santana was just looking out for her. When Sam came home from work Friday night, Santana had asked her if she wanted to watch a movie, and she had agreed.

"I'm sorry!" Santana exclaimed, flopping into an armchair. "She's been gone for two weeks. I need my sweet lady kisses, ASAP."

"Okay, one, overshare" said Sam, sitting up and holding up a hand, "and two, she'll be home in less than an hour. Watch SpongeBob with me. It'll distract you."

"I hate SpongeBob."

Sam considered this. "I do too, actually, but Jimmy Neutron stops playing at 11." She switched off the television, and turned her body to face Santana. "So. Brittany's coming home."

Santana, who had tilted her head back so it was hanging off the back of the chair, lazily flopped her head around to look at the other girl. "Yes? Your point being?"

"So…you no longer have an excuse."

"An excuse for what?"

Sam rolled her eyes. God, it's like pulling teeth… "An excuse to avoid things, Santana. It's summer. Nobody from school is around. You both know how you feel about each other. Get your shit together and ask the girl out."

Santana remained silent, looking at the floor.

"Look," Sam said, trying a different tactic. "It's about to be your senior year. You only get one shot at this. Don't you want to go out with a bang? You've spent all of high school at the top of the food chain, and it's made you miserable. You should stop caring so much about what other people think of you, and make yourself happy for once."

Santana looked at the other girl, and had just opened her mouth to speak when her phone rang. It was Brittany. She immediately picked up. "Hey Britt. You home?"

Sam watched Santana as she spoke to Brittany. She had immediately lit up at the sight of Brittany's name on the caller ID, and as she talked to the blonde, the lines of her face relaxed into a soft, easy smile. Sam shook her head. They were so perfect it was almost painful. She smiled and stood, heading into the kitchen to find something to eat. A few minutes later, Santana walked in too.

"She'll be home in twenty minutes. I'm going to go over there to meet her." Santana said, leaning on the counter.

"Alright." Sam replied. "When you're done getting naked, you two should come back here. I miss her too."

"Will do." Santana replied, as she headed towards the door. Remembering something, she stopped. "Oh, hey, Puckerman's having a party on Saturday night. You should come. Most of the Glee kids are going, but there's going to be other kids there too."

Sam nodded. "Alright. Sounds like a plan."

Santana turned to go again. "See you later" she called over her shoulder.

"Use protection!" Sam teased as the other girl walked away. Santana didn't turn around, just responded with a raised middle finger as she walked out the door.

Sam chuckled to herself as her phone buzzed.

She pulled out her phone, her smile slowly fading as she read the message.

From: Dad
Need cash. Bring $500 to the house by Tuesday.

Sam sighed. What could she do, really? She quickly shot back a text.

To: Dad
K

Sam sighed again and ran her fingers through her hair. This was quickly becoming a very stressful situation. I think I'm going to need this party on Saturday…

A few hours later, Santana and Brittany were lying in Brittany's bed, naked, under the covers. The two girls had been ecstatic to see one another (they had never really done well with separation) and had almost immediately fallen into the sheets. Now, Santana lay with her head on Brittany's shoulder, tracing patterns on the dancer's flat stomach, with Sam's words from earlier echoing in her head. You only get one shot at this. You should stop caring so much about what other people think of you, and make yourself happy for once. Was she right? If she didn't act soon, would she miss her chance? She sure as hell didn't want another Artie swooping in and taking Brittany from her. She didn't think she could deal with that again. But was she ready to throw all her cards down on the table? She didn't know.

God, this was hard.

Santana shifted, propping herself up on one elbow. "Britt?" she said quietly.

"Mm?" Brittany answered, her eyes still closed, enjoying the sensation of Santana's fingers on her skin.

"I have a question."

Santana's tone was much more serious than Brittany had heard it in a while. She opened her eyes and caught the other girl's gaze.

It always blew her away how much love she saw in Santana's eyes. Brittany might not have been the best with numbers, or spelling, or remembering chemical equations, but when it came to feelings, she could read people like books. Especially Santana. She had always been able to read Santana. The Latina tried so hard to hide her emotions, but with Brittany, her eyes always gave her away. They were such a beautiful, deep, dark brown, so expressive and full of life. No matter what Santana was feeling, Brittany could figure it out with one glance into her eyes.

Right now, Santana was scared about something. Brittany took the hand that rested on her stomach and laced their fingers together. She squeezed Santana's hand.

"Do you…" Santana paused. "Do you want…" she tried again.

Fuck. She sighed.

I can't do this.

So instead of asking the other girl on a date, she said the next thing that came to her mind, "Puck's having a party on Saturday. Do you want to come?"

Brittany said nothing. She knew that wasn't what Santana meant to ask. She gave Santana a sad little smile and the other girl looked away. Eventually the moment passed, and the blonde girl responded. "Yeah, let's go. I get to dance, right?"

Santana smiled. "Of course, Britt. You definitely get to dance."

"Then we should go. It'll be fun."

"Cool." They lay in silence for a while, but Santana hugged Brittany just a little bit tighter. Brittany hugged her back. She knew she was trying.

The two cheerleaders returned to Santana's later that evening to find Sam sitting at the grand piano the Lopezes had downstairs. Her rendition of "100 Years", however, was abruptly halted by Brittany hug-tackling her off the bench and onto the floor. Sam just lay there, stunned, as the blonde squeezed her tight.

"Uh. Hi, Britt." The cheerleader relinquished her grasp and climbed off the other girl, grabbing her hand and pulling them both to their feet in one fluid motion. She was beaming.

"Hi Sam. I missed you."

Sam chuckled. "I gathered that. I missed you too." She looked over at Santana, who was standing in the doorway looking just as amused as she felt. "So." She said, turning back to Brittany, "Movie night?"

A smile lit up Brittany's face. "Yeah! Can I pick?"

"Of course."

As Brittany headed over to the cabinet to pick a movie, Sam's phone beeped. Santana watched the other girl pull it out of her pocket. As she looked at the screen a dark look came over her face.

"Everything good over there?" Santana asked pointedly.

Sam looked up at her, and immediately plastered a fake smile on her face.

"Yep. All good. Hey Brittany!" she called, catching the blonde's attention. "You want pizza?" The girl's face lit up.

"Totally. Extra pepperoni?"

"Of course." Sam turned to Santana. "I'll assume that whatever she wants is good with you?"

Santana rolled her eyes. "I've been eating extra pepperoni since we were 7. Order the damn thing."

Sam laughed and made a noise and a motion like a whip being cracked. Santana punched her in the shoulder. "Bitch."

Sam was smiling as she replied, "Always. Look, I've gotta run to the bank before it closes anyway, so I'll just go pick up the pizza. I'll see you guys in a bit. Don't start without me."
Santana narrowed her eyes at this, but said nothing as Sam headed for the door. Whatever Sam was up to, it had to do with that text.

As she joined Brittany on the couch, her hands traveled into the pocket of the hoodie she was wearing, and she felt a slip of paper. It was the same hoodie she had worn to the restaurant to spy on Sam with Quinn. Pulling the paper out, she saw it was the fortune from the cookie she had been playing with.

Opening it, she read: A friend is in danger. Make sure you arrive before it's too late.

Well. That was weird as fuck. Whatever. Those things were never right anyway.

Sam did in fact have to go to the bank that night. Her father had just texted her telling her he needed the money tonight. She was a little worried that if she didn't comply with his requests, he'd show up at Santana's house, and she couldn't deal with that. She'd have to prevent a murder. Maybe two. The easiest thing to do right now was to just give him what he wanted.

The rest of the week passed in a similar manner for both Santana and Sam. Sam got three more texts from her father, asking for more money each time. Her bank account was running low, and soon she would have nothing left to give him. She shuddered to think what would happen then.

Santana spent every minute with Brittany, coming close a few times to asking the girl on a date. Every time she got close, though, all she could think about were those protesters outside the Berry house, and the look on Kurt's face when he said he needed to transfer, and every slushy she'd ever thrown at a kid. She was too scared. Sure, she could be more openly affectionate with Brittany at home, but only because they weren't in school. The only person who could see them was Sam. For such a badass, you're a giant pussy sometimes, Lopez.

The night of Puck's party came around, and Brittany, Santana, and Sam were all getting ready to go. Brittany, who was already dressed in jean shorts and a flowy black top, was currently digging in Sam's closet, and came out holding a pair of tight black jeans and a dark green top that Sam never wore because it showed a lot of cleavage. "You need to wear this tonight, Sam" she stated.

Sam looked up from where she was texting on her bed. Brittany absently noticed that she looked upset about something.

"I dunno, Britt…It's kinda…" she trailed off, searching for an adjective.

"Hot." The blonde finished. "You'll look good in it. Trust me."

Sam still looked skeptical, but at this point Santana walked into the room, dressed in a tight, dark blue dress. She cut in. "You might as well do what she says. She'll hide the rest of your clothes until you agree with her if there's something she wants you to wear."

Sam considered this, and wordlessly held out her hand to take the clothes from Brittany. Brittany smiled, and handed them over. As Sam got up to go change, a piece of paper fell out of her back pocket. The second she left the room, Santana leaned over and picked it up, opening it to see what it said. Her brow furrowed.

"What is it?" Brittany asked.

"It's a bank receipt" she responded. "From today. She took out 700 bucks."

Brittany frowned. "Didn't she go to the bank on Saturday? Why would she need more money?"

Santana nodded. "Yeah. And you know what? She had a hell of a lot of errands to run this week for someone with one job. Actually...I bet…" She looked around the room. Her eyes fell on the trash can. Santana walked over, dumped out the contents and started digging through them. Her efforts yielded 3 more receipts, each for $600. She whistled.

"Home girl's makin' bank…But what the hell does she need 2500 bucks for? She has a car already. She doesn't do drugs…" Brittany and Santana both jumped at the sound of Sam's voice coming back into the room.

"Okay Britt, I'm wearing it, but if I get hit on excessively tonight…" She trailed off at the sight of her overturned trash can, and the receipts in Santana's hand. Her heart jumped into her throat. Shit.

"What the hell, Santana?"

Santana, however, was on the offensive. "Yeah. What the hell, Sam? As in what the hell do you need this much money for? Or what the hell did you do with it?"

Sam stepped forward and grabbed for the receipts, but Santana snatched her hand away. "Nope. Not until you tell me what this is for."

Sam rolled her eyes and scoffed, trying to minimize the situation. "Why do you care? It's my money."

"Because that's sketchy as fuck, Sam, and I'm not about to let you get your ass hauled away by the cops if this is something bad."

"It's nothing illegal, Santana. Just leave it alone." She grabbed for the receipts again.

"How bout...no. Sorry."

"Fine." Sam spat. She could feel herself about to unravel. "This is bullshit. I'm leaving." She turned on her heel, and was almost to the door, when Brittany spoke.

"Please, Sam." The girl froze, mid-stride. "I really don't want you be hurting. We just want to help you." Slowly, Sam turned around. She looked up into the girl's wide, blue eyes, and that was it.

She broke.

Sam swallowed the lump in her throat, and began to talk.

"My dad." She said, almost inaudibly.

"What?" Santana exclaimed, stepping forward. Brittany put a hand on her shoulder, and she stepped back again.

"What about your dad, Sam?" Brittany asked.

"He.." her voice was trembling. "He wanted…money. And he said that if I didn't pay him he would come find me."

"Motherfucker!" Santana spat, but Brittany's hand kept her from doing more. Sam kept eye contact with the floor.

"I've been paying him off for a while…at first, I just wanted to see him, I thought he might have changed…I didn't know it would turn into this…" A tear rolled down her cheek. Brittany stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. Sam just stood there for a while, her body trembling. Santana had started pacing.

"I'm gonna kill him. I swear, this time, I'm gonna kill him. Está muerto."

Sam finally stepped back. "No. Santana, you can't. He'll hurt you."

"Like hell he will! I'll rip his goddamn head off."

Brittany reached out and touched Santana again. "Sam's right, Santana, you can't just go over there." Santana relaxed slightly. Brittany turned to Sam. "But you can't keep doing this, Sam. Your dad keeps hurting you and it needs to stop. Right now."

Sam was silent for a while. When she finally spoke, her voice was steady. "You're right. Okay." She took a deep breath. "Alright. I'm going to go over there and tell him I never want to see him again. No more."

Santana did not approve of this plan. "Alone? Hell no. I'm going with you."

Sam finally looked at her. "Santana. I appreciate it. I do. But I can't worry about you and him at the same time. This is something I need to do. He hasn't hit me in months. I'll be fine. You guys go to the party, we're already late. I'll be there in fifteen minutes. I promise."

Santana still looked unhappy, but Brittany cut in. "Let her do this, Santana, it's important to her. If she's not there in fifteen minutes then we can follow her."

A pause. "Fine. But fifteen minutes, Pearson. That's all you get."

Sam nodded. With a deep breath, she turned around and headed for the door.

Exactly 4 minutes later, she was pulling into her old driveway. She could see the lights were on from outside. Taking one last deep breath to steel herself, she knocked on the door. She could hear him shuffling around inside, and finally, the lock clicked and the door opened. He was clearly surprised to see her, although his reaction was somewhat dampened. He'd been drinking. Unconsciously, she took a step back, remaining firmly on the porch. Going inside at this point would be a bad idea.

"Hi."

He just nodded.

"We have to talk."

He gestured for her to enter, but she shook her head. Finally, he just crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame. "So talk." He said.

Sam licked her lips. "The money has to stop." He raised an eyebrow. "Actually. All of it has to stop. I can't see you anymore. Ever." He cocked his head at her. Fighting down her nerves, she continued. "You screwed things up. Not me. I'm done getting hurt by you because you're a huge mess. Mom and Mark…that wasn't my fault." Her voice broke. "So I just wanted you to know that I'm done."

He was silent for a long minute. Then he leaned in, his huge frame taking up her vision. "I screwed things up? I screwed things up?" She could feel his anger beginning to boil. "You little shit, how dare you blame this on me? If you hadn't been a little lazy ass motherfucker and gone and gotten your brother like you were supposed to, they would both still be here. And what the hell do you mean, you're done? I'm your father. You're done when I say you're done."

She saw something shift in his eyes; rage was replaced with something like intent. She had seen that look before. She slowly began backing away.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" She turned to run, but he was too fast. He reached out and pulled her back by her arm. She cried out, but he yanked her towards him and dragged her inside. She heard the door slam shut behind them.

No, please, no.

She couldn't tell if she had screamed it, or thought it, but she was paralyzed with fear. Her father threw her roughly to the ground, and she curled up into a ball.

This couldn't be happening again. Not again. She heard a clink as he picked up a beer bottle. "You…worthless…piece…of…shit." He emphasized each word with a rough kick to her body. She whimpered. "Did you think you could just run away and leave your old man behind? Get up." She didn't move. He swung the bottle and it crashed over the side of her head. "Get up!"

Ears ringing, she struggled to her feet. As soon as she was standing, he punched her in the face. She stumbled backwards. He hit her again. Finally, he grabbed her by the front of her shirt and pushed her against the wall. "Look at this little slut's clothing. Tits hanging out... You're not my daughter. No daughter of mine dresses like a whore." Tears were streaming down Sam's face. Her whole body was on fire from the pain; she was fairly certain he had broken a few ribs already.

"You disgust me." He spat in her face.

All of a sudden, Sam got an unexpected surge of courage. This wasn't the man who raised her. This was the man who had made her life hell for a whole year. Who had beat her, kicked her, thrown her down the stairs. Treated her like garbage. She was done. She was done with all of it.

Enough was enough.

Looking him straight in the eye, she gave him a sad smile, tears running down her face. "You know...I used to worship you. You were my daddy. You were my world." She paused. "Now...I'm just ashamed of you. I'm ashamed to be your daughter. You disgust me."

For a fleeting second, Sam thought she saw a glimmer of pain and anguish in his eyes.

But then it disappeared into the drunken haze and his jaw tightened.

"We'll see about that" he growled. Picking her up by her shirt, he threw her bodily across the room into the glass coffee table that lay in the corner. As she landed on it, she felt a sharp pain in her side as the table shattered. She cracked her head on the floor and she felt her ears begin to ring again. This time, the ringing wasn't going away. The room started to spin, and her vision slowly got more and more fuzzy. A blackness was creeping in around the edges of her vision, but she could just barely make out her fathers feet as they came towards her. They stopped right in front of her face, and stood there.

Finally, she couldn't fight it anymore, and everything faded to black.

Meanwhile, at Puck's house, Santana was getting antsy. "Okay, Britt, that's fifteen minutes. Let's go."

"It's only been thirteen, Santana, give her some time."

Santana met Brittany's gaze, and the blonde immediately understood. Santana was leaving. Now. She nodded, and the two girls got up from their position on the couch and pushed their way through the crowd to the front door. Puck's house was packed, and as soon as they had arrived, they had been offered alcohol, but both girls were refusing until they knew Sam was okay.

Santana made it to Sam's house in under 3 minutes. As she turned the corner onto Sam's street, she narrowly missed being hit by a blue pickup truck that roared past them. As it tore down the street, Santana just barely caught a glimpse of a middle aged man behind the wheel. She looked at Sam's house. The garage door was open. Only Sam's car remained in the driveway. That truck had come from Sam's house.

Shit.

Santana haphazardly parked along the side of the road and leapt out of the car, running towards Sam's house. She had never been more scared in her life. Brittany was close behind, and as she reached the front door, Santana simply thrust it open.

The inside of the house was chaos. First of all, it was filthy, and clearly hadn't been cleaned since Sam lived there. Secondly, there was broken furniture everywhere, tables overturned, chairs upside down, and in the living room it looked like…

Sam.

Oh god.

Ohgodohgodohgodohgod.

"Britt, call 911!" She screamed, but Brittany was already on it.

"Hi, I need an ambulance at…" Her voice faded into the background. Santana knelt beside Sam's body. Her thoughts were frantic and disjointed. Is she dead? I have to make sure she's not dead. Aren't there rules about moving injured people? Fuck, there's a lot of blood. Stop the bleeding. She looked around her, grabbed a blanket off the couch, and pressed it to Sam's side, which was where most of the blood was coming from. A large piece of coffee table was sticking out of her ribs. Santana winced. She took a deep breath and pressed her fingers to the side of Sam's neck. There's still a pulse. Thank God. I feel like it should be stronger…

Brittany dropped to her knees by Santana's side. "They're on their way. Four minutes." Santana nodded. She didn't think she could speak at the moment without totally losing it, and she needed to keep it together.

Santana held Sam, Brittany held Santana, and together they just sat there in silence in what Santana was sure were the longest four minutes of her life.

She didn't even hear the ambulance pull up, she was so focused on keeping pressure on Sam's side. Suddenly, there were arms around her, people pulling her away.

No. I need to stay.

"It's okay, honey. We've got her from here."

Words. People. Blood. Hands.

Brittany's hands.

Brittany.

Santana stood in Brittany's embrace as the paramedics picked Sam up and put her on a stretcher.

"Come on, San. Let's go. We'll follow the ambulance." Santana let Brittany guide her outside to her car and buckle her in to the passenger seat. Brittany walked around to the driver's side, and started the car. As they pulled onto the road to follow the flashing blue lights of the ambulance, Santana just stared out the window.

This can't be happening.

It can't.

A/N: So. Yeah. Angsty as all get out. Apologies for the cliff hanger, as well as the absurd length of this chapter. Hope you liked it.

Spanish: Está muerto: He's dead.

Drop me a review and let me know what you think!