AN: I haven't been able to write for a bit, but I was feeling angsty as hell tonight, and have been thinking about this for a while. I think there will be 1 or 2 more chapters of this.

Writing about Brittany and Santana's childhood was a little different, I tried to relate the general age to my own experience. Would anyone have bough it if I mentioned the girls in their class having bra-parties every week in the locker room before gym in 5th grade? No? I've had a strange life.

In this chapter there is a paragraph that some people may be somewhat officered by. I'm sorry.

You are all lovely, please review.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

"Santana." Amy said, looking straight into the girl's crying eyes "Tell me why we're here. From the start."

And so Santana began telling Amy the long, amazing story.

"I remember the day I met her. I remember her hair, so blonde it was almost white, pulled into pig-tails. I remember the soft pink shirt she was wearing, with orange butterflies. And the white skirt, and bright pink shoes. I remember looking into those bright blue eyes for the first time. I remember I got chills, and my heart dropped, and my knees shook. I thought I had eaten something bad, or s ghost passed through me. My heart raced and I thought I was sick. I almost told my mom I wanted to leave the park, but I wanted to play with her so bad.

"I remember after that, everything was just great. We were in each others 1st grade class, and all the grades after, and we were best friends. I remember in 5th grade, she started wearing a bra. At first I wanted a bra, too. But, then I realized I wanted to touch her chest, and at the time, I didn't realize why. I used to sneak into her underwear drawer when she was asleep and just touch her training bras."

Santana looked up at Amy, next to her on the bed, realizing for the first time she was relating disgusting things about a younger version of her sister to her. However, Amy seemed to be intrigued, not grossed out. Santana continued.

"Then in 6th grade, out of nowhere, I ran my hand over her chest, and it felt like I was on fire. She just laughed and I laughed with her. But I was terrified. For the first time, I was terrified. But, at the time, I was also excited. Then in 7th grade, I kissed her, in my backyard. I felt like I was high the rest of the night. The next day, though, I started to deny it. I told myself it was just friendly, and everything. I told myself that, while we kept kissing and doing other things. I told myself that for years.

But sometimes, like when I looked into her eyes, or when I lay awake in bed at night. Something would tell me that I loved her that I was…"

Santana choked on the word 'gay.'

"I screwed guys, for a million different reasons, honestly. It felt good, occasionally, any way. But most of the time, it was to convince myself and others that I like guys, and to be popular. Such a cliché, I know. I'd always go back to her. And I'd always try not to think about why I did that.

"Now, just recently, Artie happened. And it makes me sick. I mean it just makes me want to throw up. And each day, I just fall more and more in love with her, even when she's sucking his face off. I guess when we sang "Landslide" in glee club, it made me realize I really do love her. It made me stop fighting it. I went home, and I felt great. Scarred to fricking death, but great, because I had finally admitted it to myself."

Santana took a breath in, as she had been talking non-stop for quite a bit. She looked at Amy again, who's brown eyes were wide with wonder, aching to know more of what the normally closed off Santana had to say.

"Amy?" Santana said, interrupting her own story.

"Yes?"

"I'm gay."

Amy nodded, silently.

"What do you think about that?" Santana asked, a new flood of tears forming in her eyes.

Amy grabbed Santana's hand. She had been planning what to say to Santana when she finally told her for a few hours.

"Santana. I love you. And I've known you were gay for a long time, I've never thought any less of you because of it. And yes, there are some bullies at your school who may think differently, but I feel there's nothing wrong with being gay. And your parents will feel the same way, and your friends, so why let a few dumbasses stop you?"

Santana let out a sob before asking "Why do you think I turned out gay?"

Amy played tentatively with the cross around her neck. She knew her idea of religion and sexuality wasn't any kind of normal, but Santana had asked for her thoughts, so she gave them.

"I believe that you're a lesbian because God made you that way. I believe when he was making you, planning your life, he was also creating someone else, someone to become your soulmate, just as He does with everyone. And I believe for you, that person is a woman. If its Brittany, I don't know. I think it could be. But He made you a lesbian, someone meant to fall in love with women. And you shouldn't be ashamed of any quality God gave you."

Santana nodded, taking in what Amy had said. She wasn't sure if she agreed with her on the God thing, but everything else made sense. She decided to get to the point of the story.

"Anyway, I came to school the next day, and I told her everything. That I love her. And she turned me down. She told me she loved me, but she couldn't break Artie's heart. And it killed me. Kills me. And I needed to get away from the pain."

Santana was all cried out. She stated the story more as facts, but the knife in her heart continued to twist. Soon after, she said goodnight to Amy and went to her bed.

Meanwhile, back in Lima, Brittany sat on her bed, her knees tucked up, her chin resting on her knees. She listened to her ipod, singing softly along to the lyrics.

"I never meant to start a war.

You know I'd never want to hurt you"

Tears slowly slid down her soft white cheeks. She never wanted to hurt anybody. Especially not Santana. A few months ago, she would have gladly done anything to anyone just to make Santana happy. But now, she also didn't want to hurt Artie. He was so sweet, and she really did love him. But she loved Santana, too. She knew she had hurt Santana. But if she hadn't, it would have meant Artie would be hurt.

But now Santana was gone. And Santana hurt. Rachel was hurting, too. So was Mrs. Pillsbury, and a lot of other kids in her school. Brittany hurt, too. She had hurt for a long time, because Santana didn't love her. Then Santana did love her, but she had to let Santana down. She hurt Santana. And now she was hurting even worse than before.

Brittany ripped the headphones out her headphones and laid back. There was so much hurting. It confused her, and messed with her brain. She was sick of the hurting, and the confusion. But it stayed.