Title: Makin' Music

Pairing: Santana/Rachel, Quinn/Brittany

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Because all fic writers own Glee, right?

A/N: Thanks for the reviews for the last chapter... They were awesome :)

Enjoy...

Makin' Music

Santana and Quinn's feet were firmly planted on the floor as jagged shards of glass hit the asphalt, spilling across the floor, landing no less than one foot away from them. Finn glowered at them with an evil gleam in his brown eyes, his hair was slicked down by the rain and his clothes were clinging to his body, logged with water.

Both girls were ready to run; but where they were going to run was the million dollar question. If they ran to the car, sure they might be able to get in and drive the hell away, but the downside was that Britt and Rachel would be at risk if Finn caught up to them. If they didn't run to the car, where would they go? Brittany and Rachel would worry then, because Santana and Quinn had no way to contact their girlfriends.

"Are you just going to stand there while I drive this through your stupid faces, huh?" Finn growled, taking a clumsy step forward, "I guess you're both stupid, too."

"Look, Finn, just put the bottle down," Quinn shouted, holding her hands up defensively, "Don't do something you might regret!" Finn screwed his face as Quinn spoke. The fear was there, but she wasn't moving. Was he doing it wrong?

"Really, Quinn?" Santana hissed. Her fists were curled into tight balls at her sides, ready to go on the attack. She knew he was holding a glass bottle, but that didn't mean she wouldn't do her best to defend herself. Sizing him up, she reckoned that with the amount of booze he'd drank that she could run rings around him. Santana might not be as strong as the hulking man child threatening her actual life, but she sure was faster.

"Do you have any better ideas?" Quinn bit back. She saw Santana's fists in the corner of her eye, and hoped that this wouldn't resort to violence. It was more than likely going to go that way, but skin wasn't a formidable match for sharp, broken glass.

They had no jackets and nothing in the pockets of the jeans they were wearing. The best bet they had against Finn would be to throw their shoes at him, or strangle him with their shirts besides running away.

"Why would I regret making you see why you're wrong?" Finn growled, "I have the power here."

"Over my dead body," Santana spat, crouching a little.

"That can be arranged," he slurred, and lunged towards the girls, swinging the bottle furiously. Finn's body was twisted; his torso turned with the swinging force of his arm and his legs stayed planted on the ground. The broken end of the bottle narrowly missed the girls' tensed bodies before the two sprang into action; Quinn ran from the scene, whereas Santana decided she would pull back her fist and smack Finn dead in the mouth while he was off-balance; the lumbering oaf fell onto the asphalt and rolled over onto his side.

"Santana?" Quinn called out, realising that the Latina wasn't by her side as she heard a muffled groan and a large body hit the floor. Fuck. She turned and saw that her best friend was standing over Finn as he hit the ground. Quinn couldn't believe Santana let her violent streak get the better of her now, when she was being threatened by broken glass, of all things.

Santana leapt back before Finn could blindly slash her leg with the bottle, and began running towards Quinn at the sound of her name. In a surprisingly nimble act, Finn pulled himself up and hurled the bottle in the girls' general direction – he could just make out Quinn in the distance, but he had a better chance of getting Santana again if he put some force behind his arm.

He grinned evilly as he heard a strangled scream not so far away, and pulled the second bottle out of the holder. He smashed it against the wall, as he did with its predecessor, and began ungainly stalking towards his targets.

"They've been gone a long while," Brittany mumbled through her tears, as Rachel cradled her in the back seat of Santana's car. Both girls were absolutely terrified of what the hell was going on between Santana, Quinn and Finn. The rain was beating hard against the windows, leaving Rachel scared that she wouldn't be able to hear any sinister developments in this evening's programme.

Rachel held Brittany tighter, for her sake as well. She needed to know how Santana was out there, but she had no way of actually knowing; it killed her to know that she'd let her girlfriend stay out in the rain with a very drunk, very angry Finn Hudson, but Quinn had ordered her to take Brittany to the car. She couldn't say no to Quinn, not with the absolute fear for Brittany etched into her hazel eyes. And Santana would do what she could to protect Rachel. If anybody was going to stay back with them, it would be better if it were Quinn and Santana. They were physically superior to Rachel, thanks to years of Cheerios training, and unlike Brittany, the prospect of a fight didn't strike fear into their hearts.

Rachel looked to the faintly glowing clock on the dashboard, "About ten minutes." She looked out the windshield to get a look at what was going on, but it she could hardly see a thing. Rachel honestly didn't know what to do, and with Brittany's surprisingly strong arms wrapped around hers, she had absolutely no idea how she would actually do it.

"Is he going to hurt them?" Brittany whimpered.

"No," Rachel replied. God, she hoped she was right.

Suddenly, a buzzing sound rang through the car. Brittany and Rachel jumped at the sound motions, wondering what the hell was happening. Rachel felt the buzzing against her stomach and felt around for the source, eventually coming into contact with a solid rectangular mass in Brittany's pocket.

Rachel slid her hand into the pocket of the coat and pulled out Quinn's phone – Puck was calling. She answered immediately; the battery was almost out.

Puck checked his phone, as he lounged back on the couch at the Evans household. The screen read that it was only ten to ten and he'd only had one beer. Lame. He could be scoring some more beer or hooking up with some seriously hot chicks right now, but he was stuck hanging out with Sam, Mike and Tina at Sam's place. He wanted to up and leave, but he'd feel like kind of a dick leaving Tina alone with the two guys, who were engrossed in Call of Duty. Plus, it was raining pretty heavily outside. Like hell was he going to stand around a seven-eleven hoping some geezer would score him a couple cases of Natty Lite in this weather. That sucked, 'cause he knew for a fact that his house didn't contain one drop of alcohol within its' four walls because his mom hadn't been paid yet and she hadn't bought any recently.

He sighed in exasperation – Finn had left nearly two hours ago, and he wasn't picking up his phone. He probably shouldn't have let Finn leave, what with there being a good deal of alcohol in his blood, but Puck wasn't in the mood to go chasing after Finn. The quarterback had only downed three beers and he was nearly wasted; he started mumbling a bunch of angry crap about how his life was apparently ruined because Quinn, Brittany, Santana and Rachel were now batting for the other team; Puck remembered just staring at the guy like he'd been dropped on the head as a kid, or something. Or maybe Finn was just gay; what other explanation was there for him not loading up his spank bank with mental images of hot girls doing it? Puck was flabbergasted; it was almost as stupid as that time Finn thought he saw Jesus in a freakin' grilled cheese sandwich. Maybe he was just dropped on his head, after all.

After throwing him out and watching him meander down the road, Puck figured the boy would just walk it off and then come back – he sorta wished he would, 'cause Sam was looking a little lost without the Pied Piper to lead him around. He was doing okay now, seeing as he was a little tipsy and was fixated on beating Mike in a one-on-one game, but he had no hope. Mike was a frickin' boss when it came to video games. Even Puck had a hard time trying to beat him, but he'd done it.

"Has Finn answered his phone yet?" Tina came back into the living room with a bowl of popcorn. "The beer's all gone. Sorry."

"Don't sweat it," Puck waved off her pointless apology, and she took a seat next to him on the couch. "And no, he hasn't I gave up on him half an hour ago."

Tina nodded silently and took a few small bites of popcorn and checked her phone in the hope that somebody had texted her. She was stuck in a house with three guys and an abundance of video games. "Bored?"

"A little," she sighed. She looked to Puck, who looked about as disinterested in being here as she was. "Are they going to be long?"

Puck looked over to the guys; Sam was shouting insults at Mike as Sam got his ass whooped over and over, "Yeah. I'll take you home. I've only had one."

"Thanks."

"Hey, losers," Puck called, as he and Tina stood in the doorjamb, ready to leave. They didn't answer. "Just call him in the morning and act real mad, he'll be all over it," Puck muttered to Tina as he led her through the kitchen and out the front door.

Puck's truck started easily, despite the loud, rumbling noise of his engine. Tina looked apprehensive of the dirty leather seats and the seatbelts. They were tough things and she feared they'd actually cut through her skin if Puck made an emergency stop.

"Radio's broke," Puck informed Tina, as she went to switch it on, "Some girl I brought back in here threw up on it."

Tina snatched her hand away, repulsed. Puck laughed drily, but said nothing as she shot him a dark look.

"Well, uh, we're here." Puck unceremoniously announced. Tina thanked him as she left the car and entered her home. Puck waited until she'd locked the door behind her before driving off.

Maybe he'd go check if Finn was home, now that he Mike and Sam were outta his hair. He reckoned somebody should, because Finn had been in a damn bad mood when he left.

He turned his truck around and turned left at the end of Tina's road; he'd make a detour down Dudley Road to see if Quinn had any free booze going if he bugged her for long enough. Maybe if he got her drunk with some, she'd let him in on some action with Britt. Okay; maybe the lack of alcohol on a Saturday was just putting stupid ideas in his head. But it was true that Puck desperately needed something to give him a buzz after a night this damn depressing.

It wasn't long before Puck realised that something damn wrong had gone down, as he pulled up to the Fabray household; the front door was hanging off one of its' hinges, and the stained glass window in it had been taken out, with some force. Puck jumped out of the car and sprinted towards the house; he checked all the rooms for any signs of life, but found nothing apart from that everything in the room had been upturned.

Quinn's bedroom had been ravaged the worst, definitely. Her wardrobe had been cleared out, and bottles of shampoo and expensive skin creams were strewn across the floor of her en-suite bathroom. On the dresser by the window, Puck found a small wallet containing a few pictures of his Beth, sneakily taken before he and Quinn handed her over to Shelby. He picked them up, smoothing them over with his fingers, thanking God that whoever ransacked the place hadn't destroyed them. He had the same pictures tucked into a pocket in his guitar case at home, so he knew they'd be safe wherever he went. Even his sister didn't go through his guitar case. He hid the pictures under Quinn's pillow and swiftly ran downstairs to the kitchen.

In there, Puck found the fridge door wide open, leaving the room with an eerie flickering glow; he spied a few beer bottles open on the floor and the caps on the counter. He didn't know for sure who'd done this, but now he had a pretty good idea.

But the important thing was that Quinn, Britt and Judy were okay, even if he was now worrying because if they weren't here then where the hell where they? Puck whipped out his phone and dialled Quinn's number, hoping she picked up. God, this would not be the best time for her to be doing it with Britt. The dial tone rang a few times, before a voice he didn't think he'd be hearing answered on the other side.

"Noah?" Berry? Puck was confused; she sounded upset – almost hysterical – and he swore there was the sound of more crying in the background, but he could hear that only faintly over the sound of pounding rain.

"Rachel? Is Quinn there?" Puck slammed the fridge door shut, effectively leaving him immersed in darkness.

"She's outside, with S-Santana and Finn-"

"Where the fuck are you?" he hissed down the receiver at the first mention of Finn's name in the same sentence as Quinn and Santana's. Puck left the house and crossed the yard quickly, jumping into his truck. The clock read 22:16 – Finn had been gone for over two hours.

"At the mall! Finn's drunk and I'm afraid he's going to hurt them!"

"Shit," he growled, "Is Britt there?"

"Yes! Hurry, No-"

The line went dead. He pulled his phone back and saw that he had been on the phone for no more than thirty seconds with Rachel. Had Finn got them? He hoped that wasn't the case, and that she'd just ran outta juice, but he had to be sure. He redialled the number, but he got nothing.

Puck threw the phone into his glove compartment and swerved his car back down the other way, speeding towards the mall.

"Was that Puck?" Brittany groggily asked, as Rachel stared dumbly at the phone – she didn't expect it to die on her so quickly. She knew that Noah would be on his way, but she didn't know how long he'd take. The traffic wouldn't be a problem, but the road was wet and if he as long enough to convince Rachel that he'd gotten a damn speeding ticket then Rachel was pretty sure she'd have to take matters into her own hands.

"Yes," Rachel answered quickly, "Why didn't you tell me Quinn's phone was in there?"

"I didn't know," Brittany answered sorrowfully, looking into Rachel's worried eyes, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Britt," she whispered, brushing some hair out of the girl's face, "Don't worry. Noah will come, and they'll be okay."

"How do you know?" Rachel hated herself for the doubt in Brittany's eyes. She was so pure, so innocent; her sadness made sure those bubbly qualities was ebbing away quickly, being replaced with a seedling of scepticism.

Rachel sighed, and let a tear run down her cheek. "Because I do."

Brittany nodded and slumped back into her chair. Rachel did so, too, beside her and tried to think calm thoughts. Quinn told her to wait. Even with an order, she was feeling the need to go outside and check. Maybe she could help? No. She glanced at Brittany and she was torn. She couldn't take the girl if she left, and she couldn't just leave her.

Santana let out a pained growl as an intense burning ripped through her right calf, and stumbled against the wall, clinging to it. She had to keep a hold of something while she tried to get a hold on reality. She screwed her eyes shut and ground her teeth together to keep from yelling out in pain from the utter agony of the fact Finn had actually gotten her with that goddamned bottle neck. Even if she opened her eyes, she probably wouldn't be able to see where that lummox was. And now, with this injury, Santana wondered if she'd be able to get herself away quick enough. It wasn't enough that she was stupid enough to provoke the bastard, but now Quinn had to save her own ass and Santana's.

Her mind raced to Rachel, and how she was holding up in the car. God, how could she be so obtuse? She didn't need Rachel worrying more than she had to, because Santana was the one that had signed up for the role of protector. She couldn't bring herself to think back to the mind-numbing look of apprehension in Rachel's eyes as Santana pressed her lips to her girlfriend's cheek before she turned back to Finn and Rachel left. She could smell the sweet scent of Rachel's perfume, tasting it on her lips, as she willed herself to pick herself up and move on so Finn's merciless drunken side couldn't damage her further.

She looked downwards, seeing an even darker patch on her jeans where the pain was pulsating around her body. She felt physically sick, as she saw the large shard of glass still lodged in a presumably nasty wound. Not far from her, lay the bottle neck Finn had actually launched at her. There was indeed a large chunk missing, which was now inside Santana's leg. She steadied herself against the wall, as she saw a puddle of blood begin to form around her heel. It was small, but it was there. Fuck.

In a flash, Quinn was at her side and supporting her weight. Santana pulled herself out of Quinn's arms and picked up the neck of the bottle that Finn had thrown at her, letting out a harsh whimper as she continued to bite her lips to keep Rachel and Britt hearing her scream all the way from the scream.

"No, Santana," Quinn hissed, reaching for the bottle, but Santana pulled it away from the blonde. Finn was advancing quickly, but he was still a way off. She saw he had broken the final bottle in his case and was wielding it in his right hand, more than ready to strike again. He was calling out random insults, but both ignored him. "Did he hit you bad?"

Quinn instantly wished she hadn't asked such a stupid question as she saw the shard of glass wedged in Santana's leg. This was getting way out of hand, now. Quinn kicked herself for not dragging Santana away with her as she'd ran off earlier, because when Rachel saw this there would more than likely be a grotesque homicidal attack.

"Just my leg," she replied, downplaying the wound and grimacing as she tried to support much of her weight on it, "But I'll make him pay."

"No," Quinn ordered, gently pulling Santana back towards her, "We're leaving. Now. I'm not giving him a chance to throw the other one."

Santana relented from arguing with Quinn and allowed the blonde to support her as they made their way down the car park. They travelled quickly than Santana's leg could take, but that was beyond the point. She'd been badly hurt and it would happen again if they weren't in that car and soon.

Finn kept on lurching down the asphalt, after the girls, weighed down by how wet his clothes were and the feeling of nausea overcoming him. He laughed heartily when he realised he'd hit Santana with his blind throw and couldn't wait to see what he could with this one.

Rachel was getting more and more restless by the second; she had to know what was going on.

"Do you think if I went outside...?"

"But Finn's out there!"

"So are Santana and Quinn!"

"But they told us to wait," Brittany reasoned, "I think we should."

"Britt, I just want a look. I can't see a thing from in here," Rachel countered, feeling around for the door handle.

"Okay... but don't you be gone long, either."

Rachel's stomach twisted with guilt at the meek tone of Brittany's voice. She opened the door, keeping a look out either side of her, and exited the car. She shut the door quietly behind her and moved to crouch behind the bonnet, so nobody would notice her. She just needed to see how Santana and Quinn were handling the Finn situation.

In the distance, she spotted two bodies and four legs conjoined, struggling to make ground. She thought, as she saw one of the four legs limping along at a speed Rachel deemed too fast for whatever weight it was carrying, that her heart was in her throat. He had hurt one of them. How, she didn't know; that was besides the point.

She couldn't see or hear Finn, but she didn't bet that he was far off the girls, which scared her even more. Of the two forms, she couldn't make out which of the limping figures was Santana or Quinn and she prayed as hard as she could – what else could she do from where she was? – that whatever injury had been inflicted, that it wasn't too bad.

Rachel opened her car door, but didn't get back in, "I'll be back in a minute, Brittany," she informed the girl. She held a hand up, indicating the girl not to speak, "Brittany, please stay in the car."

"They're hurt, aren't they," she mumbled. Tears pricked her blue eyes once more, and Rachel knew she couldn't leave.

"No – well, one," Rachel didn't even bother continuing with her story and just crawled back into the car and held Brittany as she cried. Idiot.

Puck's truck sped faster and faster towards the mall – he tooted his horn loudly to get those fuckers in front of him out the way – because it was right in his sights. The entrance to the parking lot was three hundred yards away and closing; Puck just hoped he'd made it before it was too late.

The lack of blaring blue sirens behind him was really pissing Puck off – he had hoped that by roaring down an interstate he'd catch the police's attention and lead them right to Finn – but his plan had fallen to shit. Where the fuck was Lima's Police Department when you fucking needed them?

Puck growled and turned to see if that fire extinguisher was still in the back of his truck – he caught the light reflecting off the heavy red cylinder and cheered inwardly – matters had to be taken into his own hands now. He pulled it into the passenger seat, preparing himself for a quick exit from his truck.

Puck swerved into the parking lot, and raced down the drenched asphalt. As soon as he spotted a hulking giant lurching towards who he assumed to be Quinn and Santana, he abruptly stopped the truck and yanked the extinguisher out with him.

"Yo, Finnessa!" he bellowed, "Come fuck around with somebody your own size!" He didn't wait for Finn's response, as soon as he noticed the broken bottle neck in Finn's right hand.

He wasn't about to get himself cut up with that fucking glass, so he got as close as he could to Finn to get a good aim at the quarterback's leg, and hurled the heavy metal extinguisher right at the boy's lower legs.

Finn howled in pain, as a loud crack split through the heavy air. Puck's face broke into a wide smile as he realised that he'd broken the boy's leg, but he realised there were still other things to deal with.

Rachel and Brittany froze when they heard the truck speeding into the parking lot, and Finn's loud cry of agony not ten seconds later. Puck was here.

Brittany pulled the car door open and began to sprint down the car park. Rachel kicked her heels off in the back of the car and chased after Brittany. Her feet splashed against the floor as she carried herself as fast as possible towards her girlfriend.

Brittany made it to the two first, and held up the girl's weight, making it easier on the other. Rachel got to them not long after, and she stopped dead in her tracks as she saw Santana in between the two blondes.

"Rach, just get to the car," she groaned breathlessly, hissing as her bleeding leg took her weight once more, "I'll be – I'll be f-fine..."

Rachel stood there, as if Santana had just spoken to her in Ancient Greek. Santana slumped against Quinn's shoulders, as the full extent of the blood loss and her exhaustion at trying to carry on took its' toll on her and she blacked out.

Quinn pulled Santana into her arms and laid her on the ground, checking for a pulse. "She's okay," she reassured Rachel, "She's got a pulse."

Puck appeared seconds later, "Is she?"

"No," Quinn answered quickly. Santana hadn't lost that much blood... surely?

Puck pushed past Quinn and threw the keys to his truck into her lap as she knelt on the ground, and scooped Santana up in his arms, carrying her towards the car. "You and Britt follow us to the hospital," he shouted, "Rach'll come with me, in S's car. I need to lay San down in the back." Puck easily gave the orders, but inside he was crapping himself – he hadn't once seen Santana Lopez in such danger before. She kept herself safe, dammit. Finn would pay for this.

Rachel didn't argue with Puck and flitted to his side, jogging to keep up with his long strides towards Santana's car in the far corner of the lot.

Quinn grabbed Brittany's hand and pulled her towards Puck's beat-up truck; she wouldn't waste a second in getting to the hospital. Rachel needed a support system to help her through this.

"Why have you stopped?" Brittany asked her, when Quinn suddenly halted her sprint.

"What are we going to do about Finn?"