It was once again 2.35 am in the morning when his phone rang.
If it had not been the fact he made a promise of always being there for the kids he would so have his phone turned off. With a groan he fumbled for the phone and answered, "Hello?"
"Mr Schue?"
"Santana?"
"Mr Schue, I'm scared," her voice was terribly vulnerable. She sounded innocent and young and nothing like the harsh cold teenager she was. "Some guys kept harassing me and I think they're looking for me. Could you come and get me?"
He was already out of bed the moment she said scared. "Where are you Santana?" he asked as he hurriedly put his clothes on.
"Behind Breadsticks. Please hurry, I don't know what to do," Santana confessed and Will inhaled sharply. It sounded like she was in tears. "Please."
"I'm on my way," Will promised before he hanged up and shoved his shoes on.
GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE
He found Santana curled up behind a dustbin. She was obviously drunk and rather distraught as she threw her arms round him and cried into his shoulder for a solid two minutes. He could smell the whiskey on her and wondered what on earth was wrong with parents these days. Do they not lock their liquor cabinets at all?
After some coaxing and reassuring, Will managed to get Santana buckled into the car and drove back to his for some sobering up. "What made you break the pact?" he asked gently.
"None of your business," Santana said shortly.
"Santana," Will probed gently, "I won't tell anyone that you tell me. It'll be our little secret."
"There are no such things as secrets in McKinley, Mr Schue," Santana said softly. "You of all people should know that."
"This isn't McKinley, its two people in a car," Will pointed out.
"I...Don't really want to talk about it. Why do care, anyway? Is this all part of your act? You pretend to be nerdy and sweet so you can get into schoolgirl knickers? That's low and disgusting."
He stopped the car abruptly. They were already outside of his building but he had needed to park behind it in the lot instead of the middle of the street. "That is enough. I am a teacher simply trying to understand a difficult student who enjoys tormenting her peers even though they're in the same boat as her. Do you like calling Rachel names and saying hurtful things to her? Do you enjoy playing with everyone's love lives as if they're your dolls? Do you just enjoy being called a bitch? Because face it Santana the way you act it's a surprise that Brittany still likes you. In ten years time no one will care if you were a Cheerio or if you slept with all the boys in the school because it's not relevant in the real world."
To his horror Santana burst into tears all over again.
It took him longer to calm her down and even longer to convince her it would be all right for her to crash on his couch.
GLEEGLEEGLEEGLEE
"Do you think I'm pretty?"
She had let her hair down and was wearing one of his t-shirts over her skimpy clubbing outfit. All of her makeup was washed away and he could see the innocence in her dark eyes and the vulnerability all over her. She was suddenly very fragile and completely unlike the Santana he knew.
"Yes, I think all of you are pretty in your unique ways," he said before passing her a glass of water and an aspirin.
"Do you think I'm prettier than Quinn and Rachel?"
"You are in a different way," he said.
She growled. "You're not going to give a straight answer, are you? Just going to keep on being this wonderful fair and just teacher that you like to pretend to be. At least Coach Sylvester is brutally honest. She demoted me because she thought my boob job made me look cheap. You, you just like to pretend that we're all angelic and equal while really you like Rachel and Finn over all of us and you're probably shagging the man-hands as well."
"Santana!" Will shouted. "I am sick and tired of your attitude. You're acting like a spoilt brat over this. You're beautiful, you have an exotic look to you and you sing like an angel, happy now? The other girls all pale in comparison, everyone loves Santana. Is that what you want to hear?"
"No," Santana mumbled. She ducked her head down so her hair would cover her face and she looked rather ashamed of herself. "I just...they always prefer Quinn over me and she's just as bad. She purposely manipulates people into making fools of themselves and she had insulted Rachel just as much as I have and yet I'm the bad guy? It's not fair!"
"Coach Sylvester is right on one thing," Will said. "You didn't need the boob job. You are a very strong young woman at the prime of her life. You shouldn't have needed some plastic alterations make you feel better."
"Yes, I know, I know, Born This Way, yada, yada, whatever. I'm not like the others Mr Schue; I'm just a vain scared little girl who can't admit what she wants to the world. I'm not brave or anything."
"You are brave Santana, just in a different way," Will said. "Now go and get some sleep and everything will feel better in the morning."
"Fine," Santana said huffily. "But you have better not have had sex on that couch. I might be a bit of a slut but even I don't want to have almost sex with you and Miss Pillsbury."
Will wondered if it was morally right just to kick Santana out of his apartment altogether and get some real sleep. Instead he just rolled his eyes and told Santana to sleep before going to his own bed. He ended up laying there awake all night as Santana cried herself to sleep calling out for Brittany and telling her she was sorry.
It hurts that he couldn't think of a way to help the broken damage girl in the room next door.
Jesus, he must suck as a teacher, really he must.