I do not own Glee or any of the original characters, It all belongs to RIB and Fox. Any characters you don't recognise are my own creations.

Apologies for the long wait, I've had a lot going on. I'll do my best to update this more quickly in future.

Flashbacks are in italics.

R&R please.

Chapter 25

Santana groans as she wakes up, her entire body aching as she lays on a cold, damp floor. She forces herself to open her eyes and looks around the dimly lit room. The brick walls and concrete floor remind Santana of dungeons that she had seen in movies, but she knows this is no movie or even a dream. In movies, there always seems to be a bed. A poorly built, uncomfortable bed, but a bed all the same. Here, there isn't. The room is completely bare. Every muscle in her body screams at her as she pushes herself into a sitting position, leaning heavily against the damp, dirty wall. She doesn't remember being put in here, wherever here is, but she knows that Sue Sylvester is somewhere in this building. Santana grimaces and attempts to stand, but her legs seem to be unable to hold her weight. She can taste her own blood, and her head is throbbing. She has never felt so beaten before. There is no way for her to know how long she has been in here, she doesn't even know if it is night or day, but Santana knows it can't have been too long. Sue is too desperate to leave her here for too long.

How did things get like this? Her father would never have allowed himself to be held against his will. He would have died first. He did die first. Was she naïve to think she could carry on his legacy? Had the last ten years merely been a slow destruction of his empire? She and Quinn had always thought they were every bit as good at this as their fathers had been, maybe even better, but now? Now, she doesn't know what to think. Their world is crumbling down around them and she isn't even there to see it. She's trapped. Held against her will, and beaten within a few inches of her life. Carlos Lopez would be ashamed. These last few years she had been slowly falling apart, Santana realises that now. Unfortunately, she realised it too late. She remembers when her father first introduced her to the business. Twelve long years ago, when she was only seventeen. She had never even entertained the idea that this is where she would end up.

Dinner is, as always, a quiet affair. Her mother had barely even glanced at her when she joined her in the dining room. Santana doesn't take it personally, though. Her mother is always tense and quiet when they haven't heard from her father in a few days. He is due back this evening, and Santana knows they will be joined by the Fabrays by tomorrow morning at the latest. Her father had left two days ago after receiving a brief phone call, and they hadn't heard from him since then, but he said he'd be home tonight and Santana believes him. He always returns when she says he will.

"Eat your food, Santana." Santana glances up at her mother in surprise. She hadn't even realised their food had been served.

"Yes, mami," she murmurs. Santana isn't at all hungry, and the steak in front of her doesn't look entirely appetising, but refusing to eat will only upset her mother further. She forces herself to begin eating, each bite harder to swallow than the last. After Santana is sure that she has eaten enough o satisy her mother, she stops. Her fork and knife clink together as she lays them on the plate, breaking the silence in the large room. Santana and her mother sit in silence for several moments. Santana wishes she could just leave the dining room and find something more interesting to do, but her mother is still eating and her parents consider it to be rude to leave the table before everyone is finished. It always amused Santana that her parents were so attached to rules and discipline considering how her father earns his money. Earns..Santana scoffs inwardly, hardly. She doesn't look up as one of the servants takes her plate away.

"Thank you, Tina," Maribel states on behalf of Santana, shooting her daughter an acidic glare.

"Yeah, thanks," Santana mumbles, wishing her mother wouldn't call her out like in front of the help like that.

"You're welcome, miss Lopez," Tina quickly responds, leaving the dining room as quickly as she can. Maribel Lopez scares her, and she doesn't want to be here while there is so much tension between mother and daughter. Maribel stares coldly at her daughter, waiting until the servant is gone before she speaks,

"You'd do well to remember to remember your manners." Santana forces herself not to roll her eyes at her mother's scolding tone. "You must show respect to the staff." Santana can't stop herself,

"respect? You don't respect them!" she exclaims with a dry laugh. "You don't give a damn about them, mami. Don't insult my intelligence my saying otherwise." Santana instantly regrets her words as her mother shoots to her feet, her chair tipping backwards to the floor. Maribel stalks over to her, and Santana stands up. Her features don't show it, but her mother intimidates her, and Maribel knows it!

"If you expect loyalty from your staff, then they need to think you respect them," Maribel hisses. "You show them respect, whether you give a damn about them. Do you understand me?" she demands furiously. Santana drops her head, unable to meet her mother's terrifying gaze.

"Yes, mami," she murmurs. She needs to be careful now. The servants aren't the only people her mother will dole out lashings to.

"You'd do well to watch your tone in future, little girl," Maribel warns her, a dangerous glint in her dark eyes. "I'm sure you don't need to be reminded of what happens when you cross me," she adds before turning and stalking from the room. "You're excused," Maribel throws over her shoulder, and Santana glares at her mother's retreating form. To an outsider, it would seem that Maribel has no love for her daughter, but it is the opposite. Maribel had always been scared of bringing a child into their world, they have many enemies. She's strict, and at times harsh, with Santana because she needs to be. She needs to be sure that her child is tough enough to run their empire when they're gone. She wants Santana to lose her conscience, to be able to perform the same tasks her father does without even thinking about it. She's moulding Santana to be the leader she was born to be, the leader her father is.

"Miss Lopez?" Santana's head shoots up, and she frowns at the servant standing in front of her.

"What?" she snaps, her mother's advice ignored.

"You said to inform you when your father returned," the servant replies meekly. "He's back."

"Very well, you can go," Santana snottily tells them.

Her mother had been wrong. Santana knows that now. If you give your servants an inch, they'll take a mile. And, as she now knows, some will betray you. The guards are different, she's know them longer, knows they are loyal to her. She grew up with several of them. Santana sighs. Maybe it's not her mother who is wrong. Maybe it was actually her who had been wrong all of these years. The way things have spiralled out of control, it wouldn't be a surprise to Santana if she has been wrong. She stiffens when she hears a noise in the corner of the room, and she finally notices the solid metal door. She can make out the sounds of bolts sliding, and the door is swung open a second later, light from outside streaming into the dark and dingy room.

"Well, well...Santana Lopez," Sue sneers as she stands in the doorway. "I have to admit, I was starting to think we'd never get our hands on you." Santana pushes her hands against the disgusting wall and manages to drag her exhausted, beaten body upwards, surprising herself when she makes it to her feet. She will not let Sylvester see how weak she is. She just won't. "I'm impressed you're still alive," Sue remarks. "You look like hell."

"Fuck you," Santana spits. She forces herself to move away from the wall, she can stand on her own. She will face Sylvester with dignity. She has to, her pride won't allow her to cower.

"Now now, Lopez. I won't allow rudeness in my house," Sue states in a condescending tone. "I know you were raised to show respect to adults, I remember your mother's intolerance for your attitude very well." Santana clenches her jaw and stares Sue down, fire in her dark eyes. "Your parents would be ashamed if they could see you now. You had such potential," Sue murmurs wistfully.

"You have no right to talk about my parents!" Santana snarls.

"I miss doing business with them," Sue tells her, choosing to ignore Santana's previous statement. "They knew what they were doing. Unlike yourself, of course. They weren't weak. I never imagined that their child would grow up to be like this. It's sad, really."

"You shut your fucking mouth!" Santana's head whips to the side from the force of Sue's slap. "Is that the best you've got?" Santana asks her bitterly, spitting blood onto the floor, mere millimetres from Sue's feet.

"You're still that seventeen year old child that I first met." The smirk on Sylvester's face makes Santana feel sick to her stomach. Sue is holding all of the cards, and they both know it. "Luckily, Michael won't turn out anything like you," she adds coldly. Santana's nostrils flare at the mention of her son. "I'll make sure of that." Santana lunges at Sue, but is knocked down easily by Sue, as though the older women had merely been swatting a fly. Santana cries out in agony as Sylvester's foot collides with her stomach.

"I won't let you have him," Santana chokes out as she lays on the cold, hard ground; her arms wrapped around herself. Sue scoffs and shakes her head,

"You're pathetic." Santana breathes heavily and sucks on her bottom lip as she listens to Sue leave, the heavy door slamming closed behind her. Santana's eyes flicker closed at the bolts are slid back into place.

Santana buries her face into her pillow, willing herself to stop crying. She can feel Quinn watching her from just inside her bedroom door, but she doesn't lift her head. She knows that Quinn isn't going anywhere, and she knows Quinn will offer very little sympathy. They have both been raised the same way, they both know what is expected of them. It's just that Quinn has more self control, and knows when to keep her mouth shut. Santana doesn't. Quinn stays silent for a few moments, giving Santana some time to pull herself together. They're supposed to be back downstairs in a few minutes, though. They are expected to attend all of the cocktail parties their parents host now that they are being taught the ways of the business. Quinn worries that Santana doesn't have the discipline to do this. They need to have no mercy, and she isn't sure if Santana can handle this. Sighing, she steps forward and sits on the edge of the bed.

"Don't touch it," Santana whimpers, her voice muffled by her pillow.

"I'm just looking," Quinn states calmly, and she lifts the back off Santana's shirt. She gazes down at the red welts on Santana's back and tsks. "You know better than to fight with her," Quinn murmurs. Santana turns her head and stares up at Quinn with red eyes. "You shouldn't push her like that."

"It's ridiculous, Quinn. Our parents are the most dangerous people in the country, they commit all kinds of crimes...yet she whips me for being impolite?" Santana is incredulous, and Quinn sighs heavily.

"No, what's ridiculous is that you know all of that, yet still anger your mother," Quinn states firmly. "You'd be a spoiled brat if it weren't for your mother. Your father would allow you to give evidence to the FBI if he thought it would you happy," she scoffs. "Hell, he'd probably drive you there himself."

"Maybe I don't want to be in this business," Santana complains. "Maybe I have other plans."

"Don't be ridiculous, Santana. This is what you were raised to do. It's in your blood." Quinn looks deep into Santana's dark eyes and she can see the fear, the reluctance...and the naivety. They're both seventeen, there's a few months between them, but Santana seems much younger. Much, much younger.

"My mother wants me to go down to the gun range," Santana mumbles. "She says I need to practice." Quinn nods, she agrees with Maribel. "She says I won't be trusted to handle even the small jobs if I can't defend myself."

"She's right. It would be stupid to send you out there if you can't shoot straight," Quinn nods.

"There's a lot of things I can't do straight," Santana states, a small smirk appearing on her lips. Quinn barely hides her smile.

"Now is not the time...later," Quinn murmurs. "Come on, you need to wash your face and suck it up. We're expected downstairs. The Sylvesters are here."

So, yeah, not what most of you were expecting. I want to show you guys how Quinn and Santana became the people they are today. The next few chapters will be a mixture of flashbacks and present time action!

Thanks for reading, please review!