Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, or any of the characters, only the plot is mine.

"Wheels!" Santana chimed, Artie turned to the latina with a dissaproving look in his eye, "Have you heard from Brittany?"

Artie shook his head.

"Not since last night. Why?" there was a tone of suspision in his voice.

"N-No reason." The ex-cheerio replied quickly, almost too quickly.

The sound of the door closing made Santana jump slightly, "She's fine," she thought, "Nothing is wrong with her, her cell just died, that's all."

"Hip-Hop!" Mr Shue announced, "I've decided to mix things up a little, give you guys something to work on, that you know about."

"What? We were supposed to be doing Les Mis this week Mr Shue, you promised." Even a chance to critisize Rachel wasn't making Santana feel better.

Mr Shue's words were a blur. Everything was spinning.

"I'm gonna puke."

Santana jumped to her feet and yanked the door open, ignoring the calls of Mr Shue and the other Glee Clubbers.

The sound of her heels echoed aorund the walls of the girls bathroom, she knocked open a stall door and proceeded to puke her guts up.

Brittany could hear ragged breathing. But could see no one.

All she could remember was a hand closing around her mouth and another around her stomach, dragging her into a van.

She had tried to undo the rope around her wrists, but knots were confusing and it didn't help that she was blindfolded.

At first she thought that she was being taken somewhere for a surprise party, or something along the lines of that. But that idea changed when she heard a gruff voice mumble "What are we gonna do with her?"

That was what had scared her the most.

What were they going to do with her?

And who was going to do it?

"Santana, honey, how are you feeling?"

Santana was lying in the nurses office, her mother standing next to her. She'd been sent there after she had fainted in English.

This was really starting to get to her, Santana never fainted.

Brittany's words came back to her mind.

"I think someone is following me."

"Mom," Santana was sitting upright now.

"Yes?"

"I need to go to Brittany's"

"Mom, I'll walk home, I'll be fine," Santana said finally, adding a silent 'I hope' in her mind.

She watched her mother drive away before turning towards Brittany's house, hoping that someone was home.

She raised her fist and knocked three times.

The door creaked open.

"Yes?" The slightly accented voice of Brittany's fathers voice.

"I was just wondering if Brittany made it home okay last night," Santana's voice quivered slightly.

"Well, she didn't come home, but it's not that unusual, it's happened before. I do admit that it's odd that she didn't call, but she'll turn up eventually."

"Okay, thanks Mr Pierce," Santana turned quickly, shoving her hand into her bag, making a beeline for her cell phone.

Her fingers were clumsly, making mulitple mistakes as she dialled '911'.

"Hello. 911. What's your problem?" A woman with a southern accent asked.

"I- I'm reporting a missing person.