A.N: Thank you so very much to all who have read, reviewed, favorited or followed. I am amazed at the following this story has amassed and (hopefully) kept! Thank you thank you thank you thank you! You have no idea how much it all means to me.

That being said, if anyone is still following this story, you all deserve an extra large cookie - I am SO very sorry at how long this has taken me, but (if this will help my case)...I am now officially a COLLEGE grad! Holy shit. I have absolutely nothing planned for this summer, so I hope to get a chapter or two of this written, plus follow up/publish a few other stories of mine.

ANYWAY, thanks again. I love you all. And now for what you're really here for...

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Chapter 5: Angel's Retreat

Brittany and Quinn met Santana in the hallway just inside the front doors of McKinley and knew by the look on her face that something during her talk with Rachel had upset her greatly. Quinn reached out and gently grasped her hand.

"San? What..."

"We need to follow her." Santana interrupted, looking almost frantic. "Did either of you see which way she went? Or know where she lives?" It suddenly occurred to Santana that she had never heard Rachel mention where she lived; she had never really said anything about her family, or her home life. 'And now I know why,' she thought bitterly, cursing herself for not paying enough attention, for bullying the diva regardless of her fears.

Both blondes shook their heads to answer Santana's questions. They hadn't even seen Rachel leave the school, which was odd considering the diva should have had to pass them on the way out of the school.

"Damn it!" Santana blew past them and pushed the doors of the school with all of the strength anger and fear leant her. Skipping down the stairs, she vaguely heard her blonde girlfriends call after her as she ran to the curb, looking in either direction, desperately hoping to see a car or a small, lone figure walking away from the school. Seeing nothing, tears of frustration and guilt spilled from her eyes.

"Santana!" Quinn, despite having shorter legs than Brittany, had reached her first. She grasped both of the Latina's shoulders and tried to look into her eyes, shocked to see tears rolling down the cheeks of the normally stoic girl.

"We have to find her Q." Santana whispered, her voice raw and nearly begging with Quinn to understand. "We just...we need..." She collapsed into Quinn's arms, sobbing. Quinn wrapped her arms tightly around the brunette, at a loss at what to do. She had only seen the Latina in this state two times in her entire life, and neither of those were memories she wanted to relive.

"San? San sweetie, I need you to tell me what happened. Why do we need to find Rachel? What did she tell you?" Quinn looked desperately at Brittany, who had caught up with them as Santana had began sobbing, pleading with her to do something. The dancer smiled sadly, telling Quinn silently that she was doing exactly what was needed of her. The taller blonde moved closer, behind Santana, and wrapped her long arms around the both of them, providing whatever comfort she could.

Santana took a deep, shuddering breath, and tried to calm her breathing. "Sh-she..the song she s-sung...God, Q, it's h-her life! Her d-dedication was to her s-sister. She didn't say what happened...didn't say anything really, but it was so obvious...and she t-tried to wash the tears from her f-face, and I-I" She released a shuddering breath, recalling the ice cold dread that had washed through her in the bathroom. "...I saw bruises, Q. On her face and her wrist. She tried to give me some bullshit story about falling, but it didn't add up." She shook her head and pulled from the comforting embrace.

"We need to get her out of there. If...if her sister...if she died because of abuse..." Santana didn't need to finish her sentence. A feeling of abject terror and dread filled each of the girls at the thought of what could possible happen to their little diva if they left her in that situation. But as much as she wanted to jump in, proverbial guns blazing, Brittany realized that without any idea where Rachel had gone, they were stuck.

"San, there's nothing we can do today. We could drive all over town and not find her. We'll go tomorrow, ok? As soon as school ends, we'll make sure not to let her out of our sight and find out where she lives." She gave her girls a tight squeeze and let them go, opening the door of Santana's car. "C'mon, we'll stay at my place tonight. I know I don't want to be alone when I'm a sad panda."

Santana was nearly inconsolable for another hour. Quinn had retreated into her head and Brittany had no idea how to make them feel better. Bullying the tiny girl had taken it's toll on both girls' mindset over the years, and doing nothing about it had done it's damage on Brittany as well. The guilt was overwhelming.

Eventually guilt was replaced by determination in Santana, and Brittany was relieved to see it. When San set her mind on something, she was worse than a bulldog in letting go - it simply didn't happen. Quinn was another story; Santana and Brittany had seen her like this before too many times to count, and knew when it was time to leave Quinn to her own, hopefully non-destructive devices. Both girls knew that Quinn's mentally and sometimes physically abusive upbringing had scarred the girl deeply - hearing that Rachel had gone through abuse that was probably worse than hers caused Quinn to shut down. She needed to process, and the time and space to do it. The introspective blonde could be one of the most loving people you would ever meet, but she had a sadistic streak a mile wide when you caught her on the wrong day and she often had a hard time coping with herself then. She could become hyper-focused on an idea or task, losing perspective on what was going on around her or what the consequences of her actions could be. Her girlfriends suspected that once they moved to New York it would be a good idea to get Quinn into therapy, but while in Lima they had no means to do so.

None of the three girls got much sleep that night. They huddled together in Brittany's room, tossing about thoughts of how to get Rachel away from her home-life. They were three teenage girls in a tiny town in the middle-of-nowhere Ohio. Rachel was obviously scared to go against her parents, as there had never been any reports of child-abuse in their town and Santana's father was the District Attorney, her mother a doctor in the E.R.

And if they did manage to find Rachel, would she even believe them? After years of torment, would she allow them close? As the sky began to lighten through Brittany's window, all they knew was that they had to try, come hell or high water.

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The next day dragged on for the three cheerleaders. Rachel seemed to be avoiding them as much as possible, and the girls were grateful that she had most of her classes with at least one of them, but each time she sat as far away from them as possible. Today was one of the days New Directions did not meet after class, and the girls were worried that as good as Rachel was at disappearing into a crowd, she'd escape their sight at the end of the day before they had a chance to follow her.

AP Lit, however - the last class of the day for Santana, Quinn and Rachel - gave them exactly what they needed and the perfect excuse. The teachers of both AP Lit and English 12 - the normal English class for seniors, and the English class that Brittany was in - had decided to do a play together; Shakespeare's Hamlet. They had decided to team-up students from both classes in teams of four to study a certain passage and later discuss it with the class.

With 25 students in English 12 and 27 students in AP Literature, it just worked out that there would be one group with 3 students from AP Lit and 1 student from English 12 instead of the standard 2 and 2. That group, in a stroke of extraordinary luck - and a bit of student favoritism and fear of one coach Sue Sylvester - was comprised of Santana Lopez, Quinn Fabray and Rachel Berry from AP Lit, and Brittany Pierce from English 12. Quinn, ever the lit geek, was nearly salivating over being given Act 4, Scene V - Ophelia's final scene. Getting to work with her girls and Rachel made that the icing on a very delicious cupcake.

The teachers spent the majority of class going over the project guidelines - each team had to meet outside of class, discuss the scene or scenes they had been given. They were to decide which team member played which character, and who would the the main presenter during the in-class discussion. The project would last two weeks.

The final 10 minutes of class were given to the students to meet in their groups and begin working on the project.

Rachel nervously made her way to where the three had been sitting together. She dearly hoped they didn't bring up the events of yesterday; she didn't think she could deal with that for a second day project, she had a feeling, would be both torture and a gift; time spent outside of school with the three Cheerios, getting to know them better and getting to talk to them...she just hoped she could survive two weeks of their ever present curiosity and need for information.

Santana was, of course, the first to spot her. "Hey, Hobbit." She greeted, but Rachel could hear no animosity in the term. Truth be told, she was beginning to like that particular nickname. "So, me, B and Q all have Cheerios practice before school, so I figured on the days we don't have glee, we can meet and work on this project. 'Kay?"

Rachel nodded, almost afraid to speak incase doing so reminded Santana of their bathroom encounter. Santana frowned. "You ok, there, Hobbit? Usually we can't get you to shut up."

"Yes, yes I am perfectly well, thank you Santana. I was... simply surprised that you were all so willing to meet and discuss the project. A fact for which I couldn't be more ecstatic, make no mistake..."

Rachel nearly wiped her brow with relief as Santana rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah we gets it, we're awesome. Anyways, we've already gots plans for today, so we'll meet Thursday, 'kay?"

"Yes, that is amenable."

"Fantastic. See ya, Dwarf." And with that, the three Cheerios parted the class like the Red Sea as they left the room.

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Sitting in Santana's car, waiting for Rachel to emerge from the school, the three Cheerios felt as if they were in a t.v. show, on a stakeout.

Their plan was to be discrete as possible; watch which way Rachel went, wait until she turned a corner or was somewhat out of sight, and follow in the car. If it got to be too close, one of them would get out and follow on foot. It occurred to them 30 minutes after leaving class that Rachel could have left through the back of the school, but luckily after waiting patiently (not at all) for 45 minutes - after most of the students had left, the small girl emerged. Santana had parked her car in between two large SUVs owned by the football team, who were all practicing today, so her car was fairly well concealed, which they were immediately thankful for as Rachel took a good long look around before making her way across the parking lot, turning left, and continuing her slow trek away from the school.

To their shock and relief, their plan worked. It took nearly 30 minutes of bated breath and careful direction cataloging before Rachel slowed down and fished around in her backpack for a key. During this pause, the girls took inventory of their surroundings.

They were in a small, somewhat deserted neighborhood. While not run-down, the houses were slightly less well kept than most middle-class properties in suburban Lima. The grass on the lawns was turning a dull brown, and there were few trees along the block. All in all, it was an unremarkable area, easily forgettable but all together fairly normal. It was not what the girls had been expecting. Their overactive imaginations had Rachel living in a hovel, with peeling paint and cracked windows, thugs on the street corners and dogs barking and howling viciously. The address was number 48 (not the 666 the girls had been expecting) and the street name again unremarkable - Pine Drive (not Knockturn Alley).

Halfway down the block, Rachel had turned up the driveway of one of the unremarkable houses, painted an easily forgettable beige with white trimmings, with a slightly browner lawn than the others and no cars parked in the driveway. The shutters were drawn in every window. Along the way, Rachel's posture had changed remarkably. Usually her posture was perfect; back straight, chin up, shoulders back. The closer they had gotten to this address, the more rounded her shoulders became, the lower her chin went and she began to walk as if the weight of the world was in her backpack. She looked even tinier than ever, and with her hair hiding her face they would not have recognized her if passing her on the sidewalk.

"So..." began Santana, unsure of what to do as Rachel disappeared behind the door of her house.

"Do you think her parents are home?" Asked Brittany.

Quinn shook her head. "There aren't any cars in the driveway. Even if they don't have a lot of money, I bet they have a car."

"Then maybe now's the best time? To get her out of there, before they get home?" Santana was antsy to get moving. Perhaps it was because she knew that Rachel was hurt, but this whole block gave her the heebie-jeebies. It was too unremarkable, too quiet. Deserted. Like it was sucking the life out of anything and anyone there.

"Uh..." Quinn glanced at the clock, surprised to see it was almost 5:00 in the afternoon. If they didn't get home soon, Brittany's dad's would call Santana's parents, which would lead to getting Quinn's family involved which opened a whole can of worms none of them wanted to think about.

"Uh...yeah. Yeah, let's do it now." Santana parked the car on the sidewalk in front of the house next door, and they got out of the car. Nerves assaulted their bellies and their hands shook. They didn't know why they were so nervous, but they knew that what they were doing was big. Big, but right.

Each taking a deep breath as they approached the door, Santana reached out and knocked lightly. It took a few moments, but soon they heard the click of a lock being undone. The door was pulled open to reveal Rachel, dressed in the same clothing she wore to school, with a confused look on her face that quickly turned to shock and what they thought might be dismay.

"Wh..what are you doing here? How did you find out where I live"

The girls at least had the grace to look sheepish. "Well," began Santana hesitantly, "We kinda..well, we..."

"We followed you. From school. In our car." Quinn finished bluntly.

Eyes wide as saucers, Rachel's gaze flitted to Santana's car parked meters away, then back to the trio standing in front of her.

"Why are you here?" she asked slowly, as if not really wanting to hear the answer.

"We were hoping you'd come home with us." Quinn told her, trying to look as nonchalant as possible, but failing miserably.

"After our little chat yesterday and with our project from today, we were kinda hoping you'd come with us and talk a little, maybe we could work on the project if you don't want to?" Santana explained.

"Yeah, Rache, we just wanted to make sure you're safe." Brittany looked earnestly at the tiny diva, hoping she'd agree and come with them.

"While I appreciate the concern ladies, I can assure you that I am perfectly..." She trailed off, not finishing what the Cheerios were sure was a complete and utter lie, as they heard a car pull into the driveway.

Turning to look, they saw a dark blue sedan roll to a stop and the engine cut off as a man exited the car. They looked back at Rachel to see her eyes wide with fear, standing stock still, nearly frozen. The three heard footsteps get closer as Rachel lowered her eyes once more.

"Rachel, what is this?"

The girls turned again to be greeted by a relatively tall but stocky and unremarkable man standing behind them. He was about 5'11, with a pudgy beer belly and mousy brown hair cut short. He was clean shaven with pale, nearly sallow skin. His eyes were an indistinguishable color, but all the girls would remember about him were those eyes and how cold and dead they seemed. Passing him on the street, you wouldn't look twice and you'd never remember his face. He didn't stand out, and if there is a definition of average Joe, he fit it quite well. But there was one thing, besides his eyes, that frightened the three girls more than anything else.

He was a police officer.

Rachel's voice was quiet as she greeted him. "Hello, father."

A.N: Dun dun dun...Don't kill me! I plan to have the next chapter out fairly quickly, because I actually know what I want to happen in it. Thank you all so much for reading! I look forward to your comments and reviews :)

Also, Please, please, please don't take the abuser in this story being a cop as my opinion on cops. I highly respect the police and military force, but I needed a reason for Rachel to be too scared to report her father. And this lent itself perfectly.

Final note:: Go listen to Emilie Autumn. She's amazing and brilliant and all that is fantastic in this universe. Truly. I recommend if you've never listened to her music before to start out with the album Opheliac, but if you like Celtic or somewhat softer music I would go with Enchant. Fight Like A Girl is fantastic, but very different and not easily understood by those who are not familiar with her work. The reason I bring this up is because I would not have the love of Shakespeare I do today if not for her - I hated his work in high school because I was too young and immature to understand it. EA opened my eyes, to that and much more.