Author's Note: So I wanted to say a few things: one, I have the next chapter of Misguided Ghosts handwritten in one of my many notebooks and will be typed up and posted once I've typed up what I have of this bad boy (two full notebooks and onto a third!) so please don't think I've forgotten about it! It haunts me... pun intended. Two, I would have had all this typed up long ago (since I've been working on this story since end of 2019) but even though we are in the middle of a global pandemic, I have not had the luxury (and I don't say that lightly as I really truly understand how fucking difficult it is on mental and physical wellbeing to be isolated for months!) of being able to stay safe at home. I'm a support worker for adults with learning difficulties so I have had to continue working every single day since all this shit went down so anytime I'm not at work I'm literally recovering at home (I have a number of physical and mental health issues so it's a vicious every day cycle of recovering from work just so I can go back to work again the next day =/). But that being said, I really, really hope everyone out there is being sensible and safe and looking after themselves - mentally as well as staying physically well - because I know how fucking hard that is even without a pandemic. And those who aren't working, I hope you're managing to get by and I'm sending everyone so much love and luck.

And finally, three. This story is literally going to be the most dramatic, angsty, teenager-in-love, hormone-driven, Buffy-and-Twilight-obsessed, supernatural-genre thing I ever write. And I love every second of it. It's not meant to be a serious work of literature, or grown up, or self-reflective. Although I am certain that everyone who was a teenager (especially a teenage girl!) at some point can relate to something in this. So I'm not gonna apologise or defend myself about unrealistic happenings, or over-dramatic scenes, because this is literally a story about hormonal teenagers who happen to be living in a world with supernatural things going on, written by someone who barely was allowed to be a teenager for fear of my own queer and trans identity, not to mention my severe mental health issues, who is currently going through their second round of puberty so I'm a bloody hormonal teenager again so... fuck it.

Please enjoy it for what it is - my teenage-self finally being allowed to be as angsty and hormonal and dramatic as they want.

This story is named after two songs that kinda inspired it and pushed me to keep writing - Who are you in the dark by Camila Cabello, and Nights by Snow Tha Product. Go listen, they are incredible. And this contains a mish-mash of supernatural lore from a number of things, but mostly Twilight and Buffy the Vampire Slayer =)

Much love,

Maxx

I don't own anything and am making no money from this, more's the pity! It'd be great not to have to kill myself at work everyday and just be able to do what I love for a living but oh well.

Chapter One

Rachel Berry liked to consider herself a very observant person. She could tell you the exact date that Mr. Schue and Miss Pillsbury started dating purely from the change in the way they held themselves, especially around each other. She could tell Kurt's mood by the colour of his accessories that day. She could tell when Finn or Sam got lost in a class and tuned out by the way they sat. She could even tell if it was going to be an insult free day by how happy and dancey Brittany was (because the blonde's mood always influenced her two best friends' moods, even if they refuse to admit it).

So Rachel was the first to notice when Santana didn't turn up for school one Monday not long into their Junior year. The Latina played by her own rules, but Rachel knew the girl was a straight A student who hadn't even skipped when they had all gotten horrifically drunk last year in Rachel's basement. She had come to school looking a little worse for wear, but it had barely broken her stride. So for her not to be there at all? Something must be really wrong. To her surprise, Quinn and Brittany were nowhere to be found either at lunch, though she could have sworn she caught a glimpse of the blondes that morning in the hallways… She had been wanting to enquire about Santana's whereabouts, what with Sectionals fast approaching she needed to get her captain on and ensure the New Directions were in tiptop shape. She knew they would have slacked off over summer without her gentle, helpful – and constant – reminders to keep up with the vocal exercises she and Mr Schue had given them. But now that they were back, she was taking control again and they had no excuse!

So her mission to seek out the ex-Cheerios was purely Glee club business and had nothing to do with her overly curious nature and need for control… Nor did it have anything to do with this strange feeling in the pit of her stomach that had been bothering her since Saturday evening. But Quinn and Brittany weren't in Glee club either so Rachel's mission was on hold. She was absolutely certain they would all be back tomorrow so she could enquire about their well-being, and their vocal progress, then. Except when Tuesday came Rachel spent the day chasing blonde hair. And as quick and agile as Rachel was, she somehow never quite managed to catch up to them. Once again they were absent at lunch and in Glee too. Rachel was annoyed, to put it mildly, skipping school was one thing (although she had never done it nor felt the desire to) but missing Glee? That was inexcusable! She would not stand for it.

Wednesday, Rachel got to school early just to wait by the front entrance to catch the girls before they had a chance to vanish into the throng of students. She waited outside until the final bell rang before finally - resigning herself to the fact that she was going to have to stalk them - when a familiar car sped into the parking lot. Quinn and Brittany jumped out and hurried towards the entrance. They didn't notice the tiny diva waiting for them until she stepped out in front of them, blocking their path into the building.

"Why are you getting to school so late? And where is Santana?"

Quinn's face creased into a scowl. She had been aiming for a glare but she was running on caffeine and very little sleep, so she couldn't muster her usual withering intensity. "None of your goddamn business, Rachel. Now move or we'll all be late." Quinn snapped. She sidestepped the diva and grabbed Brittany's hand, pulling her behind her.

"As captain of the Glee club, I think you'll find it is my business when three of our members skip practice two days in a row!" Rachel called as she spun on her heels and followed after them.

"Yeah? Well I should probably tell you we won't be in Glee today either." Quinn shot back without stopping.

Rachel's mouth fell open. She sped up, almost running until she was beside the ex-Cheerios. "That is unacceptable, Quinn!"

Quinn ignored her.

"You too, Brittany?"

The dancer's watery gaze met Rachel's and she shrugged. "Sorry, Rach. I really want to come but San is-" She was cut off by Quinn.

"Britt! It's no one else's business, is it?" She turned her stare on Rachel and the diva finally took in both girls' appearances.

They were paler than usual, dark circles under their eyes, sadness warring with exhaustion on their faces. Their clothes and hair looked dishevelled, like they had just rolled out of bed.

"What's going on?" Rachel's question was more to herself than anyone else but the genuine concern in her voice had Quinn answering against her better judgement.

"Santana isn't well. We're helping look after her. Now will you please drop it, Rachel?" She didn't wait for a response.

Rachel watched the blondes' stride down the hallway until they were out of sight. The diva considered Quinn's words carefully as she turned and hurried to her own class. Something felt… Off. Like they weren't telling her the whole truth, like there was more to it than they were saying and Rachel, for one, was determined to get to the bottom of it.

For Glee club, of course. It had nothing to do with the strange gnawing, aching sensation in her stomach, nothing at all.

Thursday Rachel waited for the blondes at the front of school again, tapping her foot impatiently as they cut it close getting to school once more.

"Go away, Rachel," Quinn pushed past the diva, Brittany in tow, their hands linked together.

"I only wish to offer my support in this difficult time, Quinn," Rachel fell into step beside them, her shorter legs meaning she had to almost jog to keep up.

"We don't need any "support", Rachel. All we need is for people to stay out of our business!" Quinn snapped at her but it had none of her usual bite.

"You obviously do need something, Quinn. You both look awful-"

The blonde whirled on her with a hard glare. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Rachel's hands shot up in her defence, eyes wide. "I meant no offence, Quinn, I was only stating facts. You just look like you haven't been getting sufficient sleep and could do with a break."

Brittany tugged on Quinn's hand. The dancer lent forward to whisper something in her friend's ear. Rachel watched Quinn's eyes narrow at her before she shook her head.

"No. Absolutely not, Britt. I'm sorry but that is never going to happen. Now come on, we're late." Quinn spun and dragged Brittany off down the hallway at breakneck speed.

"Quinn-"

"Don't you have to go make out with Finn or something, Rachel?"

"He wishes!" The diva grumbled to herself as the girls disappeared. Perhaps this called for a change in tactics. It appeared that they weren't willingly going to volunteer the information she wanted so Rachel would have to resort to good old-fashioned detective work…

It didn't once occur to Rachel that she should back off or take it down a notch. It wasn't in her DNA to mind her own business when it came to her future stardom and even she knew she needed the Glee club to help her on her way. And to do that, the Glee club needed to be a well-oiled machine with all its members present and accounted for. Those background vocals weren't going to sing themselves! Plus they needed all of them to even qualify to compete so the sooner she figured out what was going on with the ex-Cheerios the better.

The diva made a point to ignore the concern creeping into her mind whenever she thought of Santana. She probably just had the flu, Rachel reasoned. She would just make up a batch of her tried-and-true Berry flu remedy (it's a family secret so don't even bother asking!) And then they could all stop worrying and get back to normal.

Rachel frowned as she started taking notes for class – trig – now that Santana wasn't about she found she sort of missed the sharp-tongued girl. Sure, she would appreciate not being verbally abused and threatened with physical violence every other day! But the Glee club were a family and everything felt… off without the ex-Cheerio there. She would even go as far as admitting she missed the verbal sparring matches she got into with the Latina. Santana was angry, unpredictable and prone to vengeance, but she kept Rachel on her toes and pushed her to work harder to keep up with the Latina's incredible voice. Even Rachel could acknowledge talent when she saw it, she just… wanted to make sure everyone knew she was the star here!

With that thought powering her forward, Rachel decided that she would try one more time with the blonde ex-Cheerios tomorrow morning and if that still didn't get her anywhere she would have to put her stalking plan into action.

"Good morning, Brittany, Quinn." Rachel stood at the top of the front steps; her hands clasped behind her back.

"Did you get a job as a greeter or something? Because I can't fathom any other reason for you to be out here right now and not be fearing for your safety!" Quinn stomped up the steps to stop in front of the smaller girl.

"I do not fear you, Quinn. I know you would not physically harm me, even with the numerous threats Santana likes to make. I am the New Direction's star vocalist and the best chance we have of winning Nationals," Rachel shrugged nonchalantly but could not suppress the tinge of fear that ran down her spine as Quinn squared up to her, glare cold and hard.

"Do I look like I give a fuck about Nationals right now, Rachel?" The blonde's voice came out through gritted teeth. "I have more important things to worry about, like the fact that one of my best friends almost-" she snapped her mouth shut, swallowing hard.

Brittany entwined her fingers with Quinn's and squeezed tight.

"Almost what?" Rachel peered at the two girls, curiosity burning away inside her like an inferno. "Quinn? Santana almost what?"

Quinn refused to look at her, shaking her head so hard that it looked to Rachel as if she were trying to erase whatever was currently plaguing her mind. Except the human brain did not work like an Etch-a-Sketch, Quinn was finding out - the image of Santana bloodied, bruised and unconscious in a hospital bed refused to leave her mind's eye, haunting her since she got the awful call from Brittany Sunday night and rushed over there with her heart in her mouth.

Rachel, knowing none of this, continued prodding and pushing. "Quinn, you should just tell me already because I'm going to find out one way or another. And it would be better for all of us if-"

Quinn's head snapped up, cold fury on her face. "Stay the fuck out of this, Rachel. This has nothing to do with you. You don't give a fuck about Santana. You're just worried that this might mess up your precious Glee club and your rise to fame." The blonde stepped around the diva, dropping Brittany's hand. "There are bigger and more important things going on than some high school Glee club. But, if you stay in your lane, we'll stay in ours. Now just… Stop, Rachel. Please." Quinn just looked defeated, drained and pale.

Rachel could only nod before watching the girl swipe at the tears in her eyes and walk in to school. When Rachel turned back, she found Brittany still standing before her, fingers fiddling with the hem of her T-shirt, eyes wide and watery.

"Brittany-"

"Quinn's just worried about San. She doesn't mean to be mean."

Rachel nodded slowly. "Are you okay, Brittany?"

The dancer didn't answer right away. Her eyes flickered about, taking in the surroundings, watching Quinn waiting for her by their lockers, before finally settling back in on Rachel. "San is my best friend. We've always been there for each other, she always looks out for me but… When she needed me the most… I wasn't there for her and now…" Brittany trailed off, a tear escaping and winding its way down her cheek.

The final bell rang, startling them out of the moment.

"I'm sorry, Rachel, I have to go." The dancer wiped her face with her sleeve and moved to follow Quinn.

"Brittany?" Rachel turned, going after the taller girl. She caught hold of the dancer's hand and pulled her to a halt.

If Brittany was surprised or unhappy about the contact she didn't show it, her face a blank mask again.

"I… I do care about Santana. So if there is anything I can do to help, you only have to ask."

A small smile graced Brittany's lips and was answered by Rachel.

"Thanks, Rach. That's very sweet of you." She squeezed the diva's hand gently before dropping it and hurrying after Quinn.

As Rachel watched them go, she found she could no longer ignore that painful gnawing in her stomach. Nor could she push aside the ever-increasing concern prodding at her consciousness every day she came to school and there was still no sign of Santana. This wasn't the flu; she was certain of that. Whatever it was had the blondes scared… And guilty. This warranted further investigation but perhaps with a more delicate touch.

Rachel spent the weekend compiling theories on Santana. Could she have gotten in an accident? There was no mention of any collisions, traffic or otherwise, in the local newspaper or on their website. Perhaps Quinn hadn't been lying and Santana really was sick, except it was something life-threatening. Cancer, maybe? That thought twisted in Rachel's gut because there was no way she could disprove it unless she got hold of the Latina's medical file somehow… No, even that was too far for Rachel. But only just… She'd keep it for a last resort. She jotted down a few other medical ideas to look into if (read: when) she could lay her hands on the information: overdose, stroke, heart attack, disease, disability…

Once they were down on paper Rachel felt better, because at least they weren't cluttering up her head any more, making it hard to breathe for some reason she couldn't quite put her finger on. Rachel paced about her bedroom, pen poised in her hand as if she were waiting for the next great American novel to come to her. In actual fact, she was using her impeccable memory to go over her interactions with the ex-Cheerios the last few weeks to see if she could spot any clues, any hint at what could be going on. As far as she could tell everything had been as it should be: regular, if tame, insults thrown her way, cliqueyness between the three girls and disdain for everyone else. Santana had been her usual snarky, stubborn, combative self. Perhaps her edges had been a little harder upon her return from summer break, and perhaps the Latina was not as touchy-feely with her two best friends as she had been since Rachel had known her. But then again, a lot had happened last year and so much could happen over summer so neither caused major alarm bells to ring.

Rachel threw herself on her bed with a dramatic sigh. She could speculate to her heart's content but without more to go on she was stuck. The investigation was at a dead end. She had even gone so far as to ask her fathers for help, since LeRoy worked with Santana's parents at the hospital. He had just given her a funny look and patiently explained about confidentiality, as if she were a child who knew nothing. It had irked her but she hadn't really expect him to just hand over the Latina's address or medical history. Although that would have been very helpful!

There was a knock at Rachel's bedroom door then.

"You may enter."

The door opened and LeRoy stepped in, a look of fatherly concern mixed with his doctor persona on his face – it was a look Rachel knew well. She shot up and to her feet, crossing the floor to the man before he'd even finished shutting the door.

"Daddy? What is it? Is anything okay?" As good an actress as the diva was, she couldn't keep the fear in her eyes from echoing in her voice.

LeRoy smiled and clasped his daughter's shoulders, giving them a reassuring squeeze. "Everything is just fine, sweetheart. I just wanted to check in on you."

"Oh." Rachel sucked in a breath. "I am fine also, daddy. Thank you for your concern."

"I'm glad, Rach. I was worried."

Rachel frowned. "Worried?"

LeRoy nodded before motioning for her to take a seat with him on her bed. He continued when Rachel finally moved to perch there cautiously, her frown deepening. "I know you were asking questions earlier about your friend from Glee club?"

"Santana?"

"Yes. You seemed concerned for her so I just wanted to let you know that she is being well looked after." LeRoy smiled reassuringly at her.

"Looked after?"

"Yes, at the hospital."

"She's in hospital?!" Rachel was off the bed and staring at him.

LeRoy's eyes widened. "You… You didn't know?"

Rachel scowled at him, arms folded over her chest. "Considering I just asked you to clarify that she was in hospital in a tone of shock, I would think it was pretty obvious I had no idea, daddy!"

LeRoy matched her scowl with his own version, albeit slightly softer as he had also registered the thick layer of concern in his daughter's tone. "I know you're upset right now, Rachel, but I don't appreciate being spoken to like that."

The girl immediately lowered her gaze and folded her arms. "I'm sorry, daddy, I didn't mean to-"

"I know, Rach. I get it," LeRoy stood and gently pulled his daughter into his arms. "You just found out that someone you care about is hurt. It's not a nice thing to hear, I know."

Rachel opened her mouth to inform the man that her and Santana were barely friends at school, never mind outside of it. But the words got stuck in her throat as the realisation set in. That gnawing pain in the pit of her stomach was fear, worry, anxiety all balled up together and sitting there like a rock, making it hard to breathe all of a sudden. They really weren't friends though, so why…?

"I promise she'll be okay, sweetheart. She's been patched up and she'll be back to school before you know it." LeRoy glanced down at his daughter to find tears winding their way silently down her cheeks. "Oh, my darling!" He pulled away and knelt. He took her face in his hands and softly wiped away her tears with the pads of his thumbs. "I'm sure they will catch the person who did it so they won't be able to hurt your friend, or anyone else, ever again… Okay?"

Rachel barely registered his words, her mind too occupied by the sudden and inexplicable onset of waterworks. Yes, she could cry on cue – she'd been able to since she was a baby – but these were real tears that she hadn't even realised she'd been crying until LeRoy mentioned it. This couldn't be because of Santana. The girl was ruthless, crude and hard-headed – she drove Rachel up the wall most days with her inability to take direction and her lack of dedication to Glee club (even though she was oh-so obviously talented and could go far if she wanted to!) Rachel was sure this couldn't all be because of a girl she'd never had an interaction with that didn't end in raised voices or threats of violence!

However, as she buried her face in her father's shoulder and allowed him to hold her close, humming softly to her, a single desire made itself known in her head: she had to see Santana. She needed to see her. Needed to make sure she was okay with her own eyes, her own hands, her own lips– LeRoy felt Rachel stiffen against him and held her tighter.

It wasn't until Rachel lay in bed that night – mind whirling and stomach gnawing – that LeRoy's words came back to her. Someone had hurt Santana. She felt a surge of something wild and hot rise up inside her until it was all she could do to stop herself getting out of bed, getting dressed and walking around the entirety of Lima Heights Adjacent until she found the Latina. Rationally, Rachel knew that was insane. Knew that Santana wasn't exactly Miss Congeniality, and probably had pissed off many people in her short 17 years on this earth. That did not stop her, however, from feeling sick at the thought of anyone touching the girl, of someone harming her – purposefully or by accident.

Something was going on with Rachel; that was a fact the girl was very aware of… Whether it was just those damned teenage hormones going nuts or something else, Rachel was too tired – and frankly a little terrified – to figure it out right then. Perhaps Santana would be able to shed more light on the situation when she returned to school?

Rachel managed to convince her tense body to relax and lie back down after a few minutes of deep breathing and clearing her mind. As she finally drifted to sleep one thought crept back in… Santana.

Rachel Berry was not a particularly patient person and she never pretended otherwise. She wanted things. She wanted some things so badly it hurt. And she wanted them now! So having to wait until Monday morning for another chance to speak to the blonde ex-Cheerios was killing her. She couldn't bear to go another week without answers so she was prepared to scream, and shout, and cry, and even pout and beg to get what she wanted. The diva had very little shame. Which meant she could lower herself as far as she needed to to get her way. She was proficient in the art of persuasion, lying, bargaining and manipulation. She had even managed once to flirt her way into, and back out of, a situation – but she had a feeling that may not be the way to go with Quinn… Then again perhaps it was so wild it just might work!

Rachel stood at the front entrance anxiously awaiting the blondes' arrival. She knew Quinn would not be best pleased to see her but she found she didn't care. She just… Needed answers.

"Get lost, Rachel!" Quinn strode up the steps towards her, having apparently driven into the parking lot without the diva even realising. The blonde's words didn't faze Rachel but the tone of desperation and the slightly wild look in her eyes gave the diva pause.

It was then that Rachel's eyes landed on the reason behind Quinn's current emotional state. Santana trailed behind Brittany as they crossed the parking lot, hands stuffed deep in the pockets of her jeans, the hood from her jacket pulled up to hide her face, shoulders hunched over and eyes glued to the ground. Her pace was slow, steps hesitant as if she had no idea where she was going. Brittany spotted Rachel and turned to wait for Santana to catch up. The Latina stopped short of the dancer, flinching visibly when Brittney said something to her. Neither Rachel nor Quinn missed the heart-wrenching look of sadness that flickered across Brittany's face. The diva clenched a fist over her heart, her eyes going back to Santana as the girls started towards the school again – the Latina keeping at least four steps between them at all times.

"Quinn-"

"No, Rachel." Quinn shut her down with a firm shake of the head. "We're back and will do our best to come to Glee, now leave us alone." She turned and strode off without waiting for a reply, stopping by their lockers to wait for Brittany and Santana.

Brittany reached out to squeeze Rachel's hand as she passed – no matter what Quinn said, Brittany could see past Rachel selfish bravado to the genuinely kind and loving person underneath. Rachel returned the affection and a small smile of understanding passed between them.

When Santana drew level with her, Rachel's mouth opened - a million questions clamouring to be asked - only to find them all stuck in her throat as she caught her first proper glimpse of the Latina's face. Her eyes were dark, tired, sunken. Her skin ashen, the bruise that was maturing on her left cheekbone the only bit of real colour. And there, peeking out of the collar of her jacket, was something Rachel knew well from her father's many first-aid lectures: a surgical dressing used primarily to cover stitches while the wound healed. So it was true what her father told her…

All of a sudden, Rachel was overcome with the urge to touch the injured girl. No, urge was the wrong word. It was a deep, aching need – one that could not be ignored! Santana flinched away and sped up as if she had read Rachel's thoughts, putting distance between them while still keeping a carefully measured distance from the blondes. Rachel felt herself moving, following after the Latina without any conscious decision to do so.

Suddenly Quinn was blocking her path, jaw set, eyes flashing, voice dangerously low. "Stay out of this. She's been through enough without you guilt tripping and lecturing her about missing Glee."

Rachel blinked, managing to tear her eyes away from Santana's hunched form as it disappeared down the hallway. "I wasn't going to-"

"I don't care, Rachel. There's going to be enough gossip, and rumours, and eyes on her today. She doesn't need the Glee kids, her supposed friends, adding to it too." Quinn felt her exhaustion threaten to overwhelm her as she thought of all the ways she needed to protect Santana, of the HBIC façade she was going to have to wear unapologetically and with conviction. She needed to be strong, needed to be the leader, needed to keep it together for all three of them.

Santana had barely said two words to them since they had rushed to hospital a week ago. She had not spoken to anyone – not the police, not the doctors, not her parents. Quinn usually craved peace and quiet but now she found she would give anything to hear her best friend snap at her, or pick a fight with her, or… Or even just have Santana look at her. This Santana scared her. It was like her best friend had vanished and the only proof that she had ever existed at all was a shell walking around. Santana's parents had rattled off a list of possible causes to Quinn and Brittany and asked them to keep a close eye on her. The one they seem to be leaning towards was PTSD or something along those lines anyway. Quinn just wanted Santana to be okay so she would do whatever she had to to make that happen. And if that meant cracking a few skulls and slushying a few nosy divas until they got the message then so be it.

Quinn narrowed her eyes at Rachel, shifting to stand in the girl's line of sight. "Did you hear me, Rachel? Santana doesn't need endless questions or fake sympathy. She needs… She needs privacy and space. She needs to heal properly otherwise…" Her throat closed around her words – words she didn't want to think, never mind give voice to.

"Otherwise?" Rachel prompted softly, taking a brave step closer to the drowning girl.

Quinn's gaze was fixed on a spot over Rachel's shoulder, a tortured look on her face, but it snapped back to Rachel when the girl laid a gentle hand on the blonde's arm. Quinn would be the first person to tell you, in explicit detail, why Rachel Berry was the last person on earth she would trust with her pain and secrets (they had a rocky history, with neither girl being completely innocent). She would also be the first to say, in all honesty, she had absolutely no idea why she was spilling her guts to the tiny diva in the middle of an empty school hallway. She reasoned it could have been the way Rachel's touch was the right amount of respectful and comforting, or the way her eyes shone with such sincere concern, or even the consistent, if misguided and aggravating, way she showed her concern for Santana. Whatever it was, Quinn couldn't stop the words slipping from her lips.

"Otherwise we might never get her back." The girl clamped a hand over her mouth in a futile attempt to hold in the sob.

Rachel felt Quinn's fear, her anxiety, helplessness, her loss and her overwhelming need to protect Santana crash over her like a tidal wave and steal the air from her lungs. Her fingers tightened around Quinn's arm and she took the blonde into a secure, if slightly awkward, hug. Quinn allowed herself thirty full seconds to feel, and wallow, and be comforted before she slammed the mask back down, trapping everything and shoving it back into a box in her mind labelled "do not open. Ever."

Quinn abruptly stepped out of the embrace, dashed the tears away and brushed herself down. "So… are we finished here, Rachel? Do we understand each other?"

"Quinn-"

The blonde cut her off with a sharp look making Rachel bite back the argument on her tongue.

"I'll keep my distance as best I can. You have my word, Quinn."

Quinn let out a quiet sigh and turned to go.

"But if you need anything, you only have to ask. I want to help however I can."

The ex-Cheerio eyed the diva for a long moment then gave a curt nod and jogged off down the hallway to where Brittany and Santana stood waiting patiently for the final member of the Unholy Trinity.

Rachel didn't seem to care that she was ridiculously late for class, she just couldn't take her eyes off Santana, willing the girl just to look at her. That's all she needed. A look. Then maybe her aching heart and twisted gut would settle down and give her some peace for the first time in over a week.

Santana's eyes never left the floor.

Santana's eyes never came above knee level for the entire week and it was slowly killing Rachel. She was frustrated at Quinn's refusal to accept help, but even more so she was frustrated at herself for not knowing how to help even if she had been asked. Santana didn't speak, didn't engage, didn't eat. Rachel was sure she barely saw her breathing sometimes. All she could do all week long was watch from afar and get increasingly worked up for reasons still annoyingly unknown to her. She couldn't even begin to explain to anyone who might have asked why she cared so much, she just knew she did and that she needed to do something or she was going to go insane.

So Rachel Berry did what Rachel Berry does best – she worked out her feelings via song.

Thursday afternoon she sequestered herself away in the auditorium and belted out showstopper after showstopper (but not before properly warming up, of course!) She sang until she felt the knot in her stomach start to shrink and then she did an encore just for good measure. As the last note faded from the auditorium, Rachel sucked in a deep, deep breath and let it out slowly until she felt grounded again. Being up on stage always made her feel like she was flying, so she regularly had to come crashing back to earth again and it wasn't always a smooth landing. When she was down, Rachel gave her award-winning smile (okay, so they were Berry family awards between her and her fathers but they still counted!) and a graceful curtsy to her invisible audience. Except this time, not all the applause was in her imagination.

Rachel squinted into the tiered seating, past the bright lights. She could just about make out a dark shape sat near the back. Shielding her eyes, the diva made out the hooded figure as it stood and slowly made its way back up the steps.

"Santana?"

The figure paused at the door, one hand on the handle. "You haven't sung in Glee all week. I'd almost forgotten how incredible your voice is." Her voice was rough, strained, as if she hadn't spoken in days.

Pride licked at Rachel's entire body at the compliment. Of course she knew she was incredible but for some reason it just felt… Different, better, hearing it from the Latina. "Santana! Wait-"

Santana already had the door open and was gone, leaving the diva with a strangely shy smile and the slow return of that gnawing in her stomach…

Rachel spent the entirety of Glee club that day staring intently at Santana, trying to get the girl to look at her through pure force of will. By the time Mr Schuester clapped his hands to dismiss them, she had a hell of a headache and most of the Glee club convinced she had either been body swapped or was midway through some dramatic breakdown that they would all inevitably get caught up in. Either way, they wanted no part. Even the ever hopeful, madly-in-love-with-Rachel Finn didn't resist when Puck dragged him from the choir room as fast as he could.

Rachel let out a dejected sigh and set about gathering her belongings, keeping one eye on the Latina down the row from her. Santana's hood slipped a little as she bent to pick up her bag revealing four thin adjacent scars running from just below her right cheek down her neck and disappearing beneath the jacket collar at her shoulder. Rachel's mouth fell open and her brow furrowed. An action Quinn couldn't help but notice, spurring her to hurry her two friends along and shoot a fierce glare at the gawping diva. Brittany reached for Santana, pinkie out, without thinking causing the Latina to flinch and shove her hands in her jacket pockets. Hurt flitted across Brittany's face but it was quickly replaced with a smile as Quinn held her own hand out to the dancer. Rachel felt her heart clench painfully at the sadness deep within the blondes' eyes.

Brittany was a very tactile person, especially when it came to Santana, so for her to be kept at arm's length by the one person she had always been close to hurt badly. She understood why though. She had hurt Santana terribly. She had chosen to continue dating Artie after the Latina confessed she was in love with Brittany. It wasn't that she didn't return her best friend's love, because she loved the girl more than she loved anyone else (including Lord Tubbington!) No, she hadn't wanted to hurt Artie after he had been so sweet and supportive of her, and she loved him too so someone would have gotten hurt no matter what she had done. But Brittany was starting to think anything would have been better than this awful distance between her and Santana. And the guilt that she had over thinking she was the reason Santana was pushed to her breaking point. A breaking point that had driven her to spend the summer partying, drinking and hooking up with any willing girl she came across. It was eating away at Brittany. Because had it not been for this distance, for this heartbreak, for them being unable to make up and fix their friendship at the end of last year, then maybe Santana wouldn't have gone to that party Saturday night, and maybe she wouldn't have gotten attacked, and maybe they wouldn't be where they were now, with her best friend broken and in pain, physically recoiling every time Brittany got close to her.

Rachel watched the dancer trudge sadly out of the choir room, fingers linked with Quinn's. Then her eyes turned, as they always seem to now, to Santana. The girl waited a few seconds, until the blondes were stepping out of the choir room door, before following them. Rachel desperately wanted to say something, words filling her mouth, but she had made a promise to Quinn to keep her distance and she didn't want to be another reason the ex–Cheerios were hurting. So she held her tongue – a feat she herself didn't think were possible!

Just as Santana reached the door, Rachel turned to pick up her bag. It was then that she felt eyes on her – a gaze so intense it was like a physical touch, like it was Santana's hands on her, sliding up her body slowly, inch by inch...

"See you in the auditorium tomorrow lunch? I'd like to catch the whole show this time." Santana's voice was quiet, filled with something Rachel couldn't quite place right then…

The diva spun, just missing the Latina's eyes as they dropped back to the floor. "Uh…"

Santana waited patiently for an answer. This was the most relaxed Rachel had seen the girl all week, her hands casually in her pockets now, shoulders unhunched. It took Rachel a few seconds to stop staring, remembering Quinn's request to give Santana her privacy.

"Well, you know how much I love to put on a show. And having an audience does makes it better."

A ghost of a smile haunted the Latina's lips. "Until tomorrow then."

Rachel couldn't help the grin that lit her entire body. "Until tomorrow, Santana." Even the return of the painful knot as Santana left couldn't dim the diva's smile or quell her excitement for Friday's private lunchtime matinee.

It wasn't until the diva was laid in bed that night, mind filled with scars and quiet words that she realised what that edge to Santana's voice had been. It was uncertainty. An emotion she didn't think she had ever witnessed from the usually confident and sarcastic girl. It made her chest ache and only spurred her desire to put on the best performance of her life the next day.

AN: I currently have 32 word doc pages, or one full Pikachu notebook's worth of story typed up. I will post the next chapter once I have made a start on typing up the second notebook.

Hope everyone is staying safe, wearing a mask, washing your hands and looking after each other.

Keep on keeping on!