Santana let Brittany tug her into place, laying her head against her chest. Her hands rested lightly against Brittany's sides, and she felt immediately warm, comfortable, and safe as Brittany tucked the blanket around them. She listened to the murmuring noise of the TV, eyes only partly open, and was pulled by Brittany's even, deep breaths and the gentle rub of her hand against her skin.

She tried to stay awake, but she quickly dozed off, growing as relaxed against Brittany as Brittany had directed her to be. After about an hour she stirred, blinking and squinting, her voice foggy as she murmured, "I was just resting...didn't sleep."

Brittany reveled in the feeling of Santana's warm body as a comforting weight against her, rubbing her back in long, lazy strokes as she only half-watched what was happening on TV. They were laying down because she wanted Santana to be able to rest and sleep, but Brittany felt herself being pulled toward sleep shortly after she felt Santana drop off, slack against her body. Her stroking slowly slowed, but she kept her hands resting against her bare back as they both slept heavily.

She didn't stir until Santana did, cracking one eye open lazily as Santana shifted on top of her. "Yeah me neither," She yawned, teasing Santana, knowing they both had very obviously fallen asleep quickly. She rubbed Santana's back a few times as she came to, rubbing her face against Brittany's shirt. "You didn't have a nightmare did you?" She asked, being that Santana had mostly slept heavy and still against her body.

Yawning, she stayed laying down on the couch, content and sleep-logged where she was. The nap had been much needed, and Brittany knew Santana had been even more drained and tired than she had been. "How do you feel now?" She wondered lazily, the movie still playing in the background. So much had been packed into a short amount of time, and she wondered how Santana felt about what had gone down that morning now that she was a little more well rested and level headed, having a chance to also come down from the stimulation of having Kurt and Rachel over.

"Can't have a nightmare, wasn't sleeping," Santana murmured, very obviously sleepily, and then about cracked her jaw from echoing Brittany's yawn widely. "Fine," she relented, her body still loose limbed and heavy against Brittany as she made no effort to lift her head or sit up. "Maybe slept a little...don't remember dreaming."

Her eyes started to drag shut again before she moved her head a little to look up at Brittany, obviously still fighting sleep. "Still tired," she mumbled in response to Brittany's question about how she was feeling in a delayed response nearly a full minute later. "Very...tired. You're a good pillow."

She put her head back down, closing her eyes. "Can we sleep more now?"

It was already fairly dark outside; she could see that much from the living room window. She had no idea what time it was, but to Santana, it felt like 3 am, although it was probably more like seven pm.

"Oh, right," Brittany giggled, jostling Santana a little as she laughed, forgetting that she was supposed to also be pretending that neither of them had just knocked out for the past hour. She grinned when Santana admitted to it, patting her back and kissing her soft, sleepy cheek. "I don't think you did, I would've felt you," She said honestly, knowing that it would've been impossible to Santana to even twitch without Brittany's body picking up the feeling.

"Mhmm, I see that," Brittany smiled when Santana picked her head up to look at her, thinking her sleepy, peaceful expression was adorable, and something she hadn't seen in so long, that look of exhaustion and wanting to just go back to sleep. "You can go back to sleep," She said, resting her hand on Santana's head, "But I think we need to wake up a little bit and eat something and then we can change you bad and go bed," Brittany suggested, knowing she should get something in Santana's stomach and change her bad before they went in for the night. Bleeding on the sheets wasn't a big deal to her at all, but she knew Santana would be upset if it happened.

"If you're having cramps before you go to bed, you can take some Advil if you eat," She added, propping herself up on her elbows and effectively lifting Santana up with her.

Santana grumbled under her breath without making intelligible words as Brittany laughed, protesting the way her head was shifted by the slight movement. Her faintly irritable expression softened immediately when Brittany kissed her cheek, and one dimple flickered in and out of view under the other woman's lips. As Brittany suggested that she should get up for a little and eat something, Santana turned her head to more fully hide her face against her, as though Brittany was threatening to drag her into the sun itself in all its brightest glory.

"Mm. Bad plan. Dislike. Try again."

But at the mention of changing her pad, Santana did wake slightly more. She hadn't thought about that since Kurt and Rachel had been over and had forgotten about having her period for a few hours. She scowled into Brittany's chest, displeased by the reminder, but let herself be pulled up with Brittany as Brittany sat up more. More alert, she paid a little more attention to body. She was unsure whether the faint gnawing in her stomach was from cramps or because she had really only eaten once in the day, less than she normally would recently with Brittany generally encouraging or making her eat with her. She was still not quite accustomed to recognizing and acknowledging hunger versus other discomfort or pain.

"I don't know if I want to eat," she tested Brittany. "Do I have to eat if I don't take Advil?"

Brittany giggled as Santana burrowed deeper into her as if she could escape waking up, happy that she was so eager to sleep and had woken up in a good mood. Even when her nightmares weren't bad, how Santana would feel when she woke up was always touch and go, sometimes soft and lazy like then, other times weepy and slow to rise.

As Brittany pushed her way to a full sitting position, she let Santana sit in her lap for a moment, coming to terms with being awake and deciding what she wanted to eat, knowing that even if she was in a good mood, she needed some time to adjust and wake up before Brittany launched them into her next activity. She fixed the hem of Santana's shirt, which she'd yanked up to touch her bare skin when she'd slept, toying with the fabric as Santana responded.

"You have to eat regardless, because you've only eaten a little today. You can decide about the Advil after, does it hurt?" Brittany wondered, gently removing Advil from the equation and shifting back to the fact that Santana needed to eat. "We can make chicken and veggies, or a sandwich, or we can order sushi," Brittany suggested, rubbing Santana's thighs, listing off safe and relatively healthy food she'd gotten Santana to eat in the past. "Or we could go on a walk to that make your own salad place down the street," She suggested, trying to get Santana excited about eating by giving her healthy options that she had a choice with.

Sitting up a little more, though still in Brittany's lap, Santana leaned into her still partly, yawning again. A little more alert, she considered what Brittany was offering without enthusiasm, one shoulder lifting and falling in a half-hearted shrug.

"Chicken, I guess. Just a little though." She didn't feel like walking, or leaving the apartment. She felt like she'd had more than enough activity for one night.

Considering Brittany's question about whether she was hurting, Santana continued to ponder this. "I don't know. Sometimes I don't know if my stomach hurts because I ate too much or if I'm supposed to be wanting to eat, or something else. How do you know the difference?"

She truly isn't sure of that anymore; although she's made some progress with thinking about how her body feels, recognizing hunger is still not something she's used to, as she's grown so accustomed to ignoring the signals for it that her body tried to send. Stretching her arms in front of her, she stood, using Brittany's shoulder to balance briefly, and then helped her stand up too.

She looked to make sure Brittany was going to come with her, still holding onto Brittany's hand, as she went into the bathroom to use it and change out her pad. She was relieved that the bleeding wasn't as bad as she had dreaded or as her memory from the morning seemed to have made it out to be, but still went through the necessary motions as quickly as possible, still uncomfortable with the sight and meaning. As she and Brittany went into the kitchen to start making the food, she stayed close to her, barely more than a couple of hand lengths apart her every move.

Brittany grinned, "Chicken it is." She wasn't surprised by that answer, knowing Santana likely wouldn't want to leave the house, especially since it was dark out, and for them, "late." Brittany was pleased she'd at least selected something, rather than trying to convince her that she wasn't hungry or didn't want anything at all. She was hopeful that if Santana chose what she wanted to eat, then she'd eat more of it.

When Santana thought about how she felt, seeming to be confuse, asking Brittany, she felt her heart tug a little. "I think you want to eat," She began softly, "I think you didn't eat enough to feel that full, and it's hard to feel full on cereal, Babe. Why don't we do this," Brittany suggested, "Instead of two plates, we'll put all our food on one plate, and instead of focusing on eating what's on your plate or eating five bites or seven bites or whatever, you can just listen to how your stomach feels."

Britany knew it was a change up to their routine, and Brittany also knew it was a risk, because it would be harder to tell how much Santana really ate, but she also knew it may be easier for her if they were both eating off the same plate and she didn't have her own food in front of her. "We can just eat together, and you can see if it makes you feel better."

She followed Santana into the bathroom, catching her eyes when she looked back to verify that Brittany was still there, silently being there for her while she changed her pad, setting a comforting hand on her back as they left, making their way into the kitchen. Brittany took the lead, getting the chicken and frozen veggies out, feeling Santana hovering at her elbow, moving off of Brittany's every motion. Setting the food on the counter, Brittany patted the other counter space.

"Sit up here Babe, you're hovering," She said, motioning for Santana to sit on the countertop like she had before. "It'll be easier for you, I promise I won't leave the kitchen," She swore, knowing if Santana could sit and watch her every movement instead of skirting around behind her, it would be easier for Brittany to cook and Santana to be calm. She reached over and squeezed her leg comfortingly as she cooked, slipping into the familiarity of their routine.

Santana bit her lip as Brittany made her suggestion of how to eat, not sure how she feels about the change. She likes the idea of eating off one plate, where it's less pressure to eat the full amount, and where there may be less attention paid to what she herself ate. But she doesn't know if she can "listen to her stomach." All she knows is that it's giving her some kind of discomfort, and to Santana, anything from cramps to stomachache to hunger has, historically, been discounted as "I'm too fat".

She didn't refute the suggestion though, nor the one for her to sit on the counter as Brittany cooked. Pulling herself up, she watched Brittany, liking the routine of seeing what and how she actually cooks. She trusts Brittany, but she still likes to see for herself that she hasn't added any secret fattening ingredients like rolling the chicken in butter or sugar or something crazy like that.

When the food was finished being prepared and Brittany had served it onto a platter rather than two plates, Santana sat close to her at the table, automatically reaching for Brittany's left hand with her right. She clutched her fork, her stomach grumbling and squeezing, and hesitated, then ate a few vegetables and a few pieces of chicken slowly. She was surprised when the discomfort in her stomach quickly began to ease, but didn't say anything about it. Did that mean she really had been hungry? She wasn't sure she liked that, but she turned that understanding around in her mind, pausing in her eating as she considered.

Brittany grinned when Santana listened to her, sitting on the counter so she could be always close to Brittany instead of needing to sidestep and shuffle to follow her around the kitchen, letting her sit there and promising she wouldn't leave the kitchen space. She could feel Santana's eyes on her as she cooked, but she knew she wouldn't question her, having everything down to a practiced hand from how often chicken and veggies had become their go-to meal. At that point, she knew Santana knew that she was going to put oil in the pan so the food wouldn't burn and exactly how she seasoned the chicken. It was familiar and practiced and if it got Santana to eat, then Brittany didn't care.

Instead of their usual two plate, Brittany effortless slid the food in the pan onto a single plate, fetching two forks from the drawer and tilting her head, beckoning Santana to her with a "Come on, San." She waited until Santana had hopped off the counter before moving, not wanting to walk too far from her until her feet were on the ground and she could follow after Brittany. They took their side by side seats as always, Brittany flipping her palm up to give Santana her hand before picking up her fork and beginning to eat from the shared plate she set between them.

"I am so hungry," Brittany admitted, her stomach roaring. She was shameless as she ate, digging into the food while Santana ate slower.

She let her pause, pausing too to sit back in her chair, skating her thumb across Santana's knuckles. "I'm not done eating, but I'm seeing how my body feels," Brittany told her. "We didn't really eat today, but I'm definitely still hungry. How do you feel?" She wondered, knowing Santana was trying to figure out her own body by the look she had in her eyes, inquisitive and concentrating. "Before we ate my stomach felt like sharp kind of pains, not bad, but that means I was hungry, and now it feels softer and better." Brittany continued, knowing, as obvious as it sounded, that Santana was having to relearn her body and hunger cues.

Santana regarded Brittany thoughtfully as the other woman started talking to her, pausing in her eating as Santana had. She knew Brittany was empathizing and understanding what Santana was doing, that she was trying to help her better know her body and respond to it. And she was doing it in such a kind and casual way that it was drawing attention to Brittany instead of Santana.

Santana smiled at her, squeezing her hand. "I love you," she said simply, but the way she said it sounded like a thank you too. She considered the question posed at her and said reluctantly, "I think my stomach is softer too. I hate thinking about my stomach like at all, but I think you're right. That's hungry?"

She can't say she likes it, but it is a piece of the puzzle. Exhaling, somewhat annoyed by her body cues, but knowing Brittany will doubtless tell her that she needs to eat if she's hungry, she picks at a few more vegetables, chewing slowly in hopes that will make it seem like she's eating more to Brittany. She had intended to eat exactly seven bites, which seemed a lucky number, but she was distracted enough paying attention to her stomach and thinking about it that she realized she had lost count and probably ate more than she intended.

Deciding that was enough, she put her fork down. "Done."

Brittany beamed at Santana's simple declaration of I love you, leaning over to peck her lips gently. She let Santana think about what she'd just told her, her own experiences with her body, knowing Santana was testing her words and seeing if she felt the same way. "Your stomach is an organ in your body, San," She pointed out. "Like your lungs or your leg muscles or something," Brittany shrugged. "You have to take care of it or it'll mess up the rest of your body, like if I mess up my leg and don't heal it it'll screw up my back and my hips." She explained, knowing it was far more complicated than that but wanted to take Santana's focus off her stomach.

"But yeah, that's hungry. Your body is telling you it wants food to work right." She pointed out, their joined hands resting against her leg. Brittany picked up her fork too, eating some more veggies as Santana ate too. When Santana set her fork down, she was always so definitive about it, as if she'd reached a very clearly marked finish line, and Brittany turned to her, eyebrows raised. She thought about asking her to eat more, but didn't, shrugging.

"Okay, well, my body is still hungry and I think I'd feel better if I ate more," She said simply, continuing to eat the vegetables and a few pieces of chicken left on the plate. She wasn't sure if Santana would eat more, but she wanted her to sit there with her and see how she felt with the food there for her if she wanted it.

"I'm still tired," Brittany giggled as she stuck a piece of chicken on her fork. "Our schedule the past 24 hours was kind of crazy," She admitted, knowing they barely slept the night before and would probably sleep well that night. "Imagine if we had school and dance today," Brittany widened her eyes with a shake of her head. She knew that if they did, Santana simply wouldn't have gone to class, choosing instead to accompany Brittany to her rehearsals. Silently, she wondered if Santana's newly heightened fear of losing Brittany would play into the fact that they usually spent the day time apart in their different classes.

Santana frowned at Brittany's explanation of why she had to feed herself, as usual, torn between accepting and rejecting her logic. She understands that her stomach is an organ, but Santana is unaccustomed to thinking of her body's inner workings and far more accustomed to focusing on its outer appearance. To her, her stomach has always been more about how it looks than what it needs or how it feels.

Santana heard what Brittany said as she told her she was still hungry and the point she was trying to make to her, but she didn't want to acknowledge it. She sat there, fidgeting a little, not liking the larger amount of food there, even if Brittany is eating and not asking her to. After several minutes, she takes two more small bites of vegetables and sneaks them into her mouth, hoping Brittany won't say anything. Then she put down her fork, resolute this time that she's done, and fidgeted until Brittany finished.

She doesn't even want to think about school or work and huffs when Brittany mentions it, rolling her eyes. "I am not even going there. Are you trying to make me throw my fork at you?" She pretended to stab her playfully. "I'm ready to turn my brain off for a week. Can people become zombies from overthinking? I'm guessing you would know something like that if it's possible."

Brittany didn't sneak any glances to Santana as she continued eating, pretending not to notice the extra little bites Santana took, even though it was hard not to smile over them. Still, Santana was trying so hard to be discreet about it, she didn't want to confess that she noticed them happening and so she looked at the plate instead, eating a few more bites of chicken and vegetables because she really had been starving.

She giggled when Santana pretended to poke her with her fork, slumping in her chair tiredly with a nod when Santana confessed she was ready to turn her brain off for a week. "I get that," Brittany said honestly, feeling exhausted from their day and from hosting their friends, even though all they did was watch a movie. "Come on, lets go lay down." She encouraged, dancing around the words "get ready for bed."

She stood, her hand still in Santana's, stacking their forks on top of the plate and bringing both over to the sink, washing them quickly as Santana hovered at her side. She wasn't sure how Santana would feel about sleeping so soon after she ate, but she knew they were both dead on their feet and could at least change and get ready for bed if they didn't go straight to sleep.

Drying her hands, she pulled Santana into her by the waist, lazily wrapping her into an embrace in the kitchen, resting her head on her shoulder. "I'm proud of you, you did a good job today," Brittany mumbled, her hands playing with the ends of Santana's hair where they fell on her back, tickling Brittany's arms as they wrapped around Santana's back.

She breathed Santana in, shampoo and body wash and the smell of her skin, the skin she'd pressed her face against so many nights in high school in she and Santana's childhood bedrooms. It made Brittany swoon with love for her, in awe that they'd spent so many years together and come so far.

She reveled in their embrace for a bit longer, humming in content before straightening up with a smile, linking their hands together as she led the way to the bedroom.

Now that she's more alert than she had been immediately after waking, Santana is beginning to rethink the concept of bed. She is still very tired; she feels heavy and sluggish, mentally and physically both. But she is also starting to worry a little about eating, and if she ate enough to keep getting her period next month, or if she should try to exercise more to make up for it if she had tomorrow and the rest of the week. Still, the thoughts are more a bothersome buzz in her brain than a frantic avalanche, and she doesn't voice them.

When Brittany turns to embrace her, Santana is somewhat startled away from her inner concerns, but accepts the embrace and returns it, wrapping her arms back around Brittany's waist and splaying her hands over her back. She closed her eyes, breathing her in just as Brittany was breathing in her, and her thoughts slowed nearly entirely to a stop, just from Brittany's embrace.

She almost says something when Brittany told her that she was proud of her, that she had done a good job. She almost protested that she had actually sucked today. She had had a panic attack about her period, and then gotten into a fight with Brittany. She had another panic attack in front of Rachel and Kurt and basically forced them to flee in terror. She had spent half the day crying for one reason or another.

But she stopped herself, even as she opened her mouth, and just hugged Brittany back a little more tightly. When they parted slightly to walk into the bedroom, she got out her choice of pajama bottoms and an oversized shirt, then climbed into bed, automatically rolling onto her side and making herself open to reach for Brittany.

Brittany smiled when Santana hugged her back tightly, pressing a kiss to the skin of Santana's shoulder before they broke apart to head into the bedroom. Although their day had been stressful, Brittany felt tired and calm, peeling off her clothes beside Santana and pulling on her own pajamas. It was a calming ritual, and Brittany thought it was much needed, especially at the end of a day like the one they'd had. Now that Kurt and Rachel were no longer there, it was just the two of them and their small, quiet apartment, sinking into the familiar calm of going to bed together.

Grinning when Santana opened her arms for her, she crawled onto the bed and up to settle in her arms, making she had an arm around Santana before she twisted and turned the lamp out, gently rubbing Santana's side of the material of her t-shirt.

"Our bed is comfier than usual right now," Brittany smiled, pulling Santana close to her where they lay twined together in the middle of the mattress. She could see Santana's eyes shining in the dark as her own eyes adjusted, her hand coming up to gently run her hand back over the top of Santana's head, brushing the hair off her forehead and smoothing it down.

She wondered, silently, how badly Santana's upset from the movie still lingered, and if the fear of Brittany dying was going to be something they had to work on rather than a one-time moment of sadness because of an upsetting scene. She knew it could go either way, and gently brought it up, trying to probe the situation to see how much Santana was still thinking about it.

"Are you still scared I won't always be here?" She asked, gently pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Because I don't want you to worry about it. I want you to sleep as much as you can tonight, and we can sleep in all morning together too, and I'll still be right here with you." Brittany hushed, hoping her words would settle Santana enough to get a good night's sleep.

Santana murmured wordless agreement with Brittany, scooting in closer against her and wrapping her arms around Brittany's waist. She kept her eyes open, enjoying watching Brittany settle and get comfortable. As Brittany stroked her hair, Santana pushed one hand under the hem of her shirt as Brittany so often did to her, splaying a slightly cold hand against the warmth of the skin of her back. She traced her fingers over the slight indentation of the small of Brittany's back, mindlessly drawing abstract shapes.

When Brittany asked her if she was still scared she wouldn't be there, Santana's fingers stilled against her back. She pressed closer to her, tightening her grasp, reluctant to answer. It had not been a thought at the foreground of her mind, but now that it was mentioned, she understood with greater clarity how it had lingered at the edges of her thoughts, providing another reason why she didn't want to close her eyes. She wanted to be there, watching Brittany and alert, just in case she somehow, in some way came to harm in the night. Until Brittany voiced her question, she hadn't even really processed that urge consciously.

She didn't answer. Instead, she pressed her hand flat against Brittany's back, her eyes shifting away from her, and deliberately adjusted her body to try to wake it up more, attempting to avoid getting too relaxed and comfortable against Brittany.

"I'm not really tired anymore, actually."

Brittany cooed in pleasure at the feeling of Santana's hand tickling her back, pressing herself more against Santana's body, the two of them tangled up in each other among their sheets and pillows. It was soft and safe and Brittany loved everything about it, especially after their day had ended with Brittany asking Santana to be her girlfriend, something she'd been rolling over in her mind for weeks but was so grateful she'd finally been able to say, even though it hadn't been necessarily planned.

She noticed the shift in Santana when she asked the question, her eyes darting away from her as her hand pulled Brittany in noticeably closer to her, her body no longer heavy and calm like Brittany's. Brittany's brow furrowed, watching her shift, feeling her muscles tense where their bodies were pressed together, shifting to prop herself up on her elbow, her other hand coming to rest on Santana's cheek.

"Santana, Babe - stop," She hushed, wanting Santana to still instead of her fidgeting, even though she declared she wasn't tired anymore, which Brittany knew wasn't true. Brittany herself was exhausted, and she knew Santana had gotten even less sleep and consumed less food than she had. At first, she regretted asking her, not wanting to upset her, but Santana's reaction told her that this newly-realized fear of hers was actually much closer to the surface than Brittany had thought initially.

Skating her thumb across her cheekbone, Brittany waited patiently, until Santana's eyes finally came back to hers, holding her gaze. "Just calm down, I didn't mean to upset you," She said softly, feeling Santana's fingers still holding her tight against her back. "I'm right here and we're safe in our apartment," Brittany reminded gently. "No one can hurt us and nothing is going to happen."

Santana's cheek twitched under Brittany's hand, and she dragged her eyes back to Brittany reluctantly, her lips pressing into a thin line. She felt her eyes grow hot and moist and closed them quickly, swallowing against the building pressure in her chest and the blockage of her throat.

She hears Brittany's promise to her, and she knows that Brittany would never do anything to let Santana be hurt or scared if she could help it. But Brittany couldn't control the future, and she couldn't control Santana's dreams, and she couldn't change the past or stop her own death from happening whenever that time came. Brittany was right that they were safe now, but in Santana's own mind, there could never be a guarantee of safety.

"I don't want anything to happen," she managed to say, her words tight with her anxiety. "I don't want to lose you. I just got you back. I don't ever want to not have you, even in my sleep. I need to know you'll be okay."

Brittany kept her hand there, stroking Santana's cheekbone soothingly, watching Santana battle with her own emotions. "Nothing's going to happen," Brittany promised.

Lying there in their bed, Brittany felt as safe as she could possibly feel in the world, and she wished Santana could feel the same sense of safety in their apartment. The movie had been dramatic and jarring, but nothing like their real life, and for a moment, Brittany felt guilty that she'd let Santana watch it before asking Rachel about certain parts of it. Still, she knew Santana couldn't go through life avoiding every movie or news article or anything that involved someone dying.

She could hear the tight anxiousness in Santana's voice and pulled her to her, her hand slipping from her cheek to the back of Santana's head, drawing her in to kiss her, working her lips against her until she felt Santana's own mouth soften against hers.

"I'll be okay. I'll be right here sleeping with you all night, just like I have been every other night since I got back," She swore, their faces just millimeters from each other. "No one can get in the apartment building unless the doorman lets them, and even still, they can't come up to this floor without the elevator key," Brittany reasoned gently, outlining all the facts about why they were safe. "Our door is locked, and we would definitely hear it if someone tried to come in and we'd wake up." She soothed. "Do you want me to go lock the bedroom door?" She wondered, curious if that would calm Santana's fears a little.

"And New York City never has earthquakes or tornados or anything like that, so we're nice and safe from all of that. If there's a fire, we go down the fire escape." She said gently. She knew, of course, there were a thousand possible things that could go wrong with any of these scenarios, but she knew Santana needed the comfort of knowing they were safe in every situation. "But none of that is going to happen because we're safe and I'm right here." Brittany promised. "I told you I wouldn't leave you again and I meant it." She hushed, kissing her gently again.

With Brittany's hand on her cheek, her face so close Santana could feel her breath on her skin, Santana looked into her eyes, trying to draw in the reassurance Brittany was giving. Brittany's lips softened her further, and as she listened to Brittany calmly explain why they were safe, the gnawing anxiety in her chest loosened just a bit. She sighed, nodding slightly when Brittany asked about locking the door. She knew she was being ridiculous, but it would make her feel better.

She knew they were both safe tonight. But what about tomorrow or next week or next year? Brittany couldn't know that.

Brittany was promising her again, and Santana let out another breath, trying to relax. Tucking her head under Brittany's chin, she closed her eyes.

"Can you turn on music on your phone?" She mumbled. "Or like, find a lame easy listening playlist somewhere, the kind Mr Schue would bore us to tears performing?"

She smiled, grateful Santana had admitted what she wanted, what might help her feel safe. "Okay, I'll go lock the door, be right back," Brittany promised, rolling over to turn the lamp on before she sat up, so Santana could see and watch her cross the room to lock the bedroom door, knowing being able to see Brittany when she couldn't touch her was comforting to Santana, to make sure she was still there. "I'm going to make sure the front door is locked too," She explained, pulling open the door and peeking her head into the living room. "Yup, locked," Brittany said, squinting through the dark living room before pulling the door shut again, pressing in the lock.

"I'm going to forget that's locked in the morning and walk right into it," She giggled, sliding back into the warmth of the sheets and turning off the light, drawing Santana back into her arms again, humming at her request. It was a new one, but Brittany liked the idea of it, knowing music was better than scary thoughts to fill Santana's mind. She kept one arm wrapped around her, reaching with the other to pull her phone off the night table, scrolling through it as she contemplated what songs or playlist she could put on to calm her.

"Ooh, I have a good one," She said, thumbing around her Spotify app, pressing play and then lowering the volume so it was soft. Quietly, Shake it Off began to play, soft and sweet in the darkness of their bedroom. "When I was on tour, I made a playlist of all the acoustic songs we'd ever sang, because it made me feel close to you guys and close to Lima when I was a million miles away." Brittany explained, "Looking at pictures made me sad, but listening to music that we'd sang before didn't," She confessed.

Santana sat up on her elbows, watching Brittany go to the door and waiting, squinting at the light, until she returned to bed. Lying back down and twining herself back around her, she smiled softly when Brittany chose a playlist and the first notes played soft and sweet.

"I love this song," she murmured. "I was a bitch to Coach, but she was sort of cool really. It's really fucked up, what that guy did to her. She was nice to us. Even when people made fun of her."

She shivered a little, remembering Coach Beiste's bruised eye, and a flare of guilt lit in her chest. She had been so clueless, so arrogant to actually think it was funny to make a joke about a woman being hit. Any woman. And now here she was, years later, having been beaten herself- and worse. Brittany said it wasn't her fault or her karma, but remembering things like this made her doubt it.

She closed her eyes, trying to think of only Brittany. Brittany close to her, holding her and loving her and there. Brittany, who she would do anything to keep safe.

"I know, but she's okay now I'm sure," Brittany soothed, smoothing Santana's hair when she felt her shiver against her. "You didn't know any better, I didn't either." She said, knowing that situation had now hit home for Santana far closer than either of them would've ever expected.

Still, at the time, the two of them had been so young, oblivious to anything bad that could ever happen, as if the bad things existed only in other people's lives and would never permeate into their own. It was a high school bubble of innocence, even though it came with its own set of struggles, and for a moment, Brittany missed it.

"She's safe and you are too," Brittany mumbled, shutting her eyes, her hand still methodically stroking Santana's hair as the music played softly. "All the doors are locked, and if anyone even tried to break in, we'd hear them way before they could ever do anything," She pointed out, her voice soft and sleepy. "Just go to sleep, and in the morning we can go on a walk and have a slow day," Brittany promised, knowing that's probably what they both needed after everything that had gone on in the past twenty-four hours.

She felt Santana go warm and heavy against her, finally calm and wound-down enough to relax her body, and Brittany tried to hold her there until she fell asleep, swathed in Brittany's calm and loving arms in their familiar bedroom with soft music playing to lull her to sleep.

Santana drifted off, soothed by the gentle, lulling rise and fall of Brittany's chest against her, the quiet tone of her voice and the rhythmic way she stroked her hair. The music in the background provided even more sensory peace for her to be able to relax, and although she marginally resisted, she wasn't able to stop from succumbing.

At first, the comforting setup of her before bed routine seemed to be working out for her. Santana's sleep was even, her body relaxed, for at least a few hours. But when deeper unconsciousness set in, and the dreams started to seep in, she began to twitch faintly, her eyes moving visibly even under closed lids.

In her dream, Santana was lying with Brittany in bed, cuddled up to her, just as closely as she was in reality. Brittany's arms were tight around her, and Santana was hugging her, content and happy, even as she giggled at the coldness of Brittany's hands against the bare skin of her back.

"Your hands are freezing, Brittany! Why are you so cold?"

Brittany didn't answer her, nor did she move her hands. In the dream, Santana frowned, attempting to shift to be able to readjust, but Brittany's arms were tight around her, so much so that she couldn't move easily.

"Britt, ease up a little bit."

But Brittany did not. Santana realized then that there was something damp and sticky across Brittany's chest and legs, seeping into her own clothing, and she made a startled noise in her throat, trying with more effort to pull back from her.

"Britt, what's going on? What is that? Brittany?"

She twisted herself hard, finally breaking Brittany's grasp, and pushed herself up to look down at her reclining form in the bed. That was when she saw more clearly in the room's dim lighting that Brittany's eyes were frozen open, sightless and unblinking. Dark red blood stained her shirt from chest down, splattered across her legs and arms, and when Santana screamed, shaking hands reaching to check first her wrist, then directly over her heart for a pulse, she felt nothing.

Brittany was dead. Somehow, Brittany had died in the night, even as Santana held her in her arms.

"That's what happens to worthless whores," a voice hissed from just behind her, and as Santana's head swiveled, her hands still frozen over Brittany's unmoving body, she saw that the man from the bar was standing just a few feet away from her in the bedroom, leering down at them, his hands stained with Brittany's blood. "She deserved it, and so will you."

He reached for her then, bloody hands covering her mouth, throwing his body over both hers and Brittany's in the bed, and as Santana screamed in the dream, thrashing out in desperate effort to fight him off, she mirrored the movements and outcries in reality.

The music had lulled Brittany to sleep, having the same calming affect it had on Santana, holding her to her body as they both eventually went slack against the mattress. The exhaustion had crept on Brittany faster than she thought it would, not realizing just how sleep deprived they both were. She hoped, as she drifted off, that Santana would possibly be too exhausted to even dream.

When she gasped into consciousness hours later, Brittany instantly knew that she had been wrong, that no matter how tired Santana was, a nightmare could still come in and pervade her sense of peace and rest. She already knew what was happening before it happened - gone were the days of being startled awake and not grasping what was going on. Now, Brittany was so used to the nightmares she rarely ever gradually woke up, instead, she was snapped into alertness, her body and mind scrambling to catch up with reality as Santana screamed and thrashed against her.

She rolled away from Santana's kicking and fighting hastily, hauling her feet off the bed to stand up, chest heaving at the shock of being awakened to screaming, fumbling to turn on the lamp, her fingers stuttering over the switch as she tried to steady them, throwing the room into light.

"Santana," Brittany said, loudly, trying to reach for her and sit her up, pulling her closer to the edge of the bed where Brittany stood. "Santana, wake up," Her voice was loud and straightforward, trying to cut through the haze of Santana's dream, hauling her into a sitting position by her arms, squeezing her biceps in an attempt to bring her back to reality and where they were.

Santana's eyes open wide as Brittany pulls her to an upright position, grasping her upper arms, but she is still caught in the haze of her dream, not truly awake. Although she hears Brittany's voice calling her name, she envisions Brittany's dead, unseeing face and bloody body grasping her, fingers cold and hard, trying to fight her rather than steady her, and she screams again, writhing under her hands and trying to slip away. Her heart is pounding wildly, and she sobs in between sharp shrieks, gasping barely intelligible words.

"NO...no, no, no..."

The flood of light gradually forces her into more of a state of confusion closer to awareness, and she stops fighting as her eyes begin to take in Brittany near her, seeing that her face is sharp with feeling and intensity rather than flat with death, beginning to recognize that her hands on her are warm. Still in shock, Santana starts to tremble, tears streaming as she tries to figure out for herself what was real.

Brittany doesn't look dead. Had she been wrong? The man, where is he? Her eyes dart past Brittany, searching every corner of the room she can see, and she reaches up for Brittany, needing to touch her back.

Brittany held her where she was despite Santana's attempts to twist away from her, doing her best to hold her arms down and prevent her from thrashing around. They'd both never been hurt during one of Santana's nightmares, but Brittany constantly feared Santana would hurt herself or break something if she kicked at the headboard or one of her limbs collided with something.

"Santana come on, wake up," She instructed in the same loud and calm voice, repeating it like a mantra. "You had a nightmare, it's time to wake up, I know, I know, look at me, Babe."

From where she stood at the side of the bed, Brittany was bent to be eye level with Santana where she held her by the arms, face to face as she watched confusion wash over Santana's contorted features, watching her tense and coiled muscles relax but start to tremble. "You're okay," She promised, knowing they'd hit the turning point of the nightmare and Santana was coming out of it, realization slow to dawn on her.

Brittany kept still, her eyes watching Santana's as they skated around the room looking, as if they were looking for something in particular or were taking in their bedroom for the very first time. It was only when Santana reached out to touch her that Brittany exhaled in relief, taking one of her hands off Santana's arm to help guide her shaky hand, knowing, by the gesture, that she had been in the nightmare in some way, and that Santana needed confirmation that she was there.

It had happened before, but not always. Sometimes, Brittany wasn't in the nightmares, and other times, she was, usually able to tell the difference based on if her name was anywhere in Santana's screams or if Santana reached out to confirm that she was unharmed. Slowly, Brittany wrapped her hand around Santana's wrist, guiding her hand up to touch Brittany's face, bring her hand down so Brittany could press her lips to Santana's shaky fingertips.

"It's okay," She repeated in a softer voice, her hand on her arm easing up now that she knew Santana wouldn't thrash away from her. "You're okay, it wasn't real. It was just a nightmare," She repeated soothing, general statements, quietly assuring Santana that whatever awful things she saw in her sleep were just dreams.

Santana's shaking fingers registered Brittany's cheek, warm and solid, and she further understood this Brittany in front of her to be reality when Brittany closed her hand around her wrist and kissed her fingers. She vaguely hears but doesn't really take in Brittany's soft words. Instead as her pulse roars in her ears and pumps to the point of causing a headache in her temples, she zeroes in on Brittany, both hands now grasping for her, needy, wanting to pull her in and touch her everywhere she can to see she's okay.

"O-okay," she stammers, her hands roaming over Brittany's chest and stomach, needing to feel that she is dry and uninjured and free of blood. "Y-you, okay..."

She squeezes her eyes shut, shuddering again, and then opened them, a few more tears slipping free. "Not here? Not real? ...him?"

Brittany let Santana grab at her, pulling her closer as she roamed her hands all over Brittany's body, as if she had to check for herself that Brittany's skin was smooth and unharmed. "I'm okay, we were just sleeping together and you had a nightmare, it's okay," She hushed, climbing back on the bed so it was easier for Santana to touch her. Brittany silently registered that the dream had obviously involved her getting hurt on some part of her body, which she knew had been the subject of Santana's dreams before, coupled with Santana's heightened concerns about their safety. Brittany assumed it must've been terrifying.

As Santana trembled and cried, Brittany felt her heart squeeze for her at her broken words. Him, the source of all of Santana's anguish. "No one's here, Babe." Brittany soothed, her hands on Santana's shoulders to ground her. "Just you and me. We're safe and alone." Brittany promised, repeating it to Santana like a mantra, knowing they were reassurances that Santana could not possibly hear enough of. "See? I'm okay," Brittany swore as Santana's hands continued to brush over her stomach, her arms, her collarbone, leaving no part of her skin untouched or unexamined.

"It wasn't real, I'm real," Brittany soothed, her thumb rubbing Santana's shoulder over the fabric of her shirt, glancing to the side. "Remember how I locked the door when we went to bed?" Brittany asked as Santana's eyes remained focused on her, "Do you want to get up with me and check that it's still locked?" She offered, wondering if that would give Santana an extra level of reassurance to see that they were safe passed making sure Brittany's body itself was unharmed.

Santana's roaming hands stopped as Brittany asked her if she wanted to go check if the door was unlocked, and she widened her eyes, shaking her head so fast her hair whipped out, hitting Brittany in the face.

"No! No, no, no, stay. Stay!"

She clutched onto Brittany's arms as though Brittany were going to disregard her pleading and detach, going to the door without her. Her nails dug into Brittany's skin without realizing it as she tried to anchor her near her, still breathing in irregular gasps.

As Brittany continued to speak softly and calmly, reassuring her that she was okay, that Santana herself was okay, Santana's arms wound around Brittany's waist hard, and she pressed her face into her chest, under Brittany's chin. She was still trembling, tears now dampening Brittany's t-shirt, and she tried to climb into her lap, wanting as close to her as she could get.

"It never really goes away," she mumbled into Brittany's shirt. "And then it's worse. It's even worse."

Brittany's eyebrows raised at how abruptly Santana refused, stuttering out a quick, "Okay! Okay, we'll stay right here. Shhhh, San." Brittany felt the desperation in the strength of her grasp, trying not to flinch as she felt Santana's nails against her skin. She knew she didn't mean to hurt her, and if she could help it, she'd never tell Santana that anything she did ever hurt Brittany.

"Shhhh, come here." Brittany cooed as Santana wrapped her arms around her, pulling Santana into her lap and holding her against her, trying to anchor her trembling as Santana buried her face into her. She knew in that moment, all Santana needed was comfort, reassurance that everything was right in the world and the horrors of her dreams were just nightmares and nothing tangible. She knew the movie probably had a lot to do with it, and Santana's fears of losing Brittany that she'd struggled with even as they fell asleep.

"It'll go away," Brittany calmed, smoothing Santana's hair. "The movie probably scared you." She reasoned, knowing Santana had been putting in a lot of work at therapy and also outside of it to try to work through the nightmares and other things that frightened her. "You've been doing so much better, but it didn't happen long ago San," She reminded her, brushing through her hair in long, even strokes. "You have good days and bad days just like everyone else," Brittany hushed, "But we're okay and we're safe."

Gradually Santana's shaking lessened to occasional shivering as Brittany held her firmly in her lap, her hands steadily stroking her hair. She maintained her tight embrace of Brittany, slowly beginning to calm down as her crying subsided. She didn't look up from Brittany's chest, still needing the grounding of her holding her.

"But it doesn't go away forever," she mumbled against her, sniffing. "I want it to just stop forever. I don't want to think or see these things. I don't want to be scared. I'm so tired of being scared."

She made a frustrated noise in her throat, squeezing Brittany's waist. "It's not fair. He gets to just go live his life and I have to be the one left behind, fucked up and afraid. It isn't FAIR. I wish I could make him pay. I wish I could make him be the one to live like this."

Brittany kept her pulled to her tightly, wanting to still her trembles and quiet her tears, murmuring a comforting slew of words, knowing whatever she said mattered far less than the sound of her voice. She settled herself back against the covers, relaxing for the first time since she'd woken up, confident Santana was past the worst of the nightmare and just needed to settle and readjust. She let her chin rest on the top of Santana's head as she coughed and sputtered against Brittany's chest, her body gradually stilling, save for the occasional twitch or tremor.

"It will," She hummed, "One day, all of this will just seem far away and you'll be so good at learning how to notice things but not let them upset you, and all of this will seem like it happened so long ago you can hardly remember it." Brittany promised, hoping beyond hope that what she was saying was true and Santana really could one day live as though this was just a distant memory. She knew something so traumatic wasn't something she could actually escape from, and she knew the nightmares may never fully disappear, but she didn't vocalize that, wanting Santana to see only the good, knowing she deserved only the good.

Santana's frustrated whine stoked a flame deep and low in Brittany's body and she wished, more than anything, that she could find the man who hurt her and make him pay for what he'd done. It was a protective flare of anger she didn't feel that often, but Santana's frustrated, pleading words made her want to do something awful.

"I know," She confessed. "I hate him for what he did to you and I wish I could make him pay or like, get him in a room and beat him up." She said bluntly. "But you're not left behind." Brittany added, Santana's words registering to her, "You're leaving him behind, because you're still here, loving girls and not afraid to love me still even though he hurt you and now you're my girlfriend and you're in therapy and you get better every single day and every single day you're leaving him a little more behind and taking away more of his power." Brittany pulled back suddenly, both her hands coming to the sides of Santana's head. "And I am so, so proud of you for that."

Although it seemed somewhat illogical, hearing Brittany confess her hatred towards the man who had derailed Santana's life was comforting. It took a lot for Brittany to truly hate someone, let alone wish them harm, and it was validating for Santana to hear that her frustration and pain made sense, that Brittany could understand it rather than just tell her to move past it and forget. Even if one day she remembered less and was reminded less, Santana knew she could never forget. And forgiving seemed beyond impossible.

When Brittany cupped the sides of her head, reassuring her of how strong she was, how far along she was coming, and how proud she was of her, it hit something deep in Santana's heart. Her features scrunched with her emotion, eyes shining with new tears, and she leaned in to kiss Brittany before wrapping her arms around her neck tightly once more.

"I hate the dreams you're in," she whispered, her voice choked. "I can deal better when it's just me. I don't ever, ever, ever want to see you hurt. I could never deal with that. I need to keep you safe and okay forever."

Brittany savored the kiss, savored the feeling of Santana solid and safe between her two hands, wishing she could keep her there in the safety of their bed forever. She let her wrap her arms back around her tightly, grateful for the full contact again and knowing that Santana needed it and that nightmares didn't fade away just like that, no matter how much she wished they would,

"I know," Brittany empathized, always being able to tell when the dreams involved her and when they didn't based on the severity of Santana's reactions after. "I'd feel the same way if I had a nightmare about you, but I'm right here and I'm safe," She promised, speaking the words out loud even though it was obvious, knowing Santana couldn't possibly get enough assurance.

She wished there was a way to assure Santana that she was safe and okay even while she was asleep, knowing that even when she held her in her arms, the dream could still unfortunately take hold and terrify her. "I could never see you hurt either, even now, I hate that you're so sad," She murmured lovingly into her hair. "But we never go anywhere alone, except for when I go to the studio, which is in a safe area, and usually you're with me at night and we always stay on busy streets and in our neighborhood, right?" Brittany reminded, knowing she couldn't completely guarantee her safety but also knowing that the chances of something happening to her were slimmer than if she frequented unsafe areas after dark or went out and drank too much by herself - two things they never did.

Santana nodded tearfully into Brittany's shoulder, her hands tightly clasped over the curve of her blades. She took slow steadying breaths, grounding herself with Brittany's body, Brittany's voice, Brittany's presence. She was here, she was real, and she was okay. That meant Santana could be okay too.

Slowly coming down from the remnants of the nightmare, Santana tugged Brittany to lie down, wanting to lay on her chest back in the bed. One hand flat against Brittany's chest, feeling her heartbeat, the other twining strands of Brittany's hair, Santana lay her head down on the right side of Brittany's chest, fitting her body in against hers.

"I know maybe it's wrong, and it's messing you up or making you different so it's bad... but I like when you get angry for me," she admitted softly. "People get pissed off at me all the time and I don't really care, but it's... I don't know. It feels different when they're pissed for me. I guess I like it better than thinking I'm just damaged or something."

Brittany hummed softly, acknowledging Santana's words. She never could understand why more people didn't get angry on Santana's behalf, why they couldn't see through her sometimes brash and harsh exterior to the vulnerable, gentle girl beneath. She stroked Santana's dark hair back from her cheek, letting her hand linger against the side of Santana's head.

"It's validation," she said gently, knowing just how much of that Santana needed, more than she ever could acknowledge. "It makes sense that it would feel good. We all like to know that people see things our way and get why we feel how we feel. Especially when we're feeling scared or hurt."

She felt Santana nod slightly against her chest, releasing another breath, and the other woman's heartbeat continued to calm, forming a rhythm with her own. Brittany pressed a kiss to the top of her head, lengthening her stroking hand to encompass Santana's back.

"Close your eyes," she murmured. "Close your eyes and breathe. I've got you. I've got you, and you are safe. I will always do everything I can to keep you safe."

She could feel Santana's breathing level out, the growing heaviness of her body, but even so, just before Santana drifted off, she heard her mumble back.

"Same…to you."