Hey guys! Apologies for the slow updates! I've been working this whole week, it's been crazy! But I have a week off so in between maintaining a social life and going to the gym, I will be writing future chapters! Hopefully you'll like this one...It's getting more and more dramatic, I think. I still haven't decided on what's going to happen past chapter 6 so if you have any feed backs, I would really appreciate them and they'll help me get motivated to write more chapters! Thank you and enjoy!

After talking to Quinn about the whole situation, Santana felt a little bit more at ease. Or at least she thought she did. On the drive back to their apartment she was thinking of ways to talk to Brittany about her feelings, about how she can't seem to get over the idea that Brittany was the one who called her brother and convinced him to come to Los Angeles and now he's dead. She's calculating the whole situation in her head, how Brittany will react to her words, the words she's now trying to say out loud, memorizing each line so she doesn't digress later on. Something inside her tells her that it can't be that easy. This will never get solved in one day. So instead of taking the usual route to their place, she turns left, not really knowing where the hell she wants to go or what she wants to do but for a reason, she ends up pulling up across the street from a low key bar near the beach. She's been here once or twice before, of course with Britt, during one of those spontaneous dates they have whenever college wasn't busy or if Britt isn't too exhausted from her dance classes. They would set off, without a destination, and twice they've ended up there and here she is again. This time alone.

The bar wasn't busy at all. Maybe three in the afternoon is a little too early to drink but Santana thinks, knows, that she needs it. She needs to relax, to clear her head and right now a little alcohol couldn't harm her. She walks through the door and the smell of cigarettes and stale beer greeted her. The place still looks as dingy as it did a few months ago. She never really understood why they ended up here before, or why she chose to be here now. The usual crowd of middle aged, "alcoholics in denial" were already there, probably celebrating for lasting after lunch hour. Santana shook her head, no way in hell was she going to end up like these losers, no way in hell. She walked up to the bar and sat down, feeling totally out of place. It doesn't feel right sitting here on her own, no hand on her knee, no blue eyes that looked at her intently. She shook those thoughts and called out the bartender.

"What can I get you, honey?" A middle aged man asked her, looking as if Santana was lost and ended up in the wrong side of town.

"Just a beer please." she answered looking around, the bartender is probably right. She looks lost, she is lost.

He handed her an ice cold bottle of beer and smiled at her. "That everything for you?"

"Yes, thank you." taking a swig out of the bottle, appreciating the cold bitter taste in her mouth.

Turns out Santana can lie. The beer wasn't all she needed,no. She also needed five more of them, a shot of jager, redbull, scotch on the rocks and some other hard spirit she can't exactly remember. How did she get here? To this place and this state. Santana was never a shy drinker but she always drank with her friends,never alone. Never when she's sad and about to make some serious life decisions. The bartender had a worried look on his face but he can't actually refuse her drinks because, well, it's business and these days that's hard to come by. Besides, Santana isn't a messy drunk, she's known to be the "hysterical weepy drunk" but it's been so long since she's let herself cry that she can't even remember how to.

"Another one of these please?" she slurred looking at her watch. It's already 6 pm and Brittany should be back at the apartment right now. She checked her phone and right enough there's a text from her girlfriend asking her where she is and if she's had dinner. She shoved the phone back in her pocket deciding that drunk texting would not be ideal right now. "Hello? Another one of these please?"

"Miss, I think you've had enough for a day, heck for the week." the bartender finally decided. He may not know this young woman but whatever the hell she's going through, alcohol is not the solution for it. "Here, drink this." handing her a glass of ice cold water.

"Is this..." the brunette took the glass and took a sip "...water?"

"Yes. You need it."

"Fuck you." she spits, grabbing her purse and putting her jacket on as soberly as she can.

She gets out of the bar and pauses for a moment, looking for her car. She's never done this before, drink and drive. Even in high school, amidst all her rebellious acts, drinking and driving was never one of them. She takes her keys out of her purse and unlocks the car. She smiles lazily when she sees a flash of light coming from across the street.

"Oh there you are, I thought you left without me." she says, stumbling towards the driver's side.

The good thing about places like these is that there are never many police cars around just because this place is a shit hole. No one cares if a drunken driver stumbles out here, heck, most of them don't even have goddamn cars. She turns on the ignition and revs up the engine and pulls away from the curb.

Turns out driving while drunk isn't easy. Thank god her car is an automatic otherwise she wouldn't have been able to leave the shit hole bar she was in. Her car reeked of alcohol and smoke but she doesn't give a single damn and decides to put some music on an turn the volumes up loud. Ten minutes later, she finds herself pulled over seven blocks away from their apartment. So much for bad karma.

"Goddamnit." she swears under her breath as she checks herself in the mirror, trying to look as sober as possible. "Fuck."

There was a tap on her window so she rolls it down, that's how they do it in movies right?

"Goodevening ma'am. How are you feeling tonight?" a short stubby police officer asks her.

"Hello officer, I'm jolly good. Just heading to to see the wife." she answers with a smile. The wife, she smiles again.

"May I please ask you to step out of the car and take a breathalyzer test for me?" he asked carefully.

"Listen, Officer..." she tried to read his badge but that was a dumb move, as she couldn't read when drunk, apparently.

"Fernandez." he smiles mockingly.

"I'm seven blocks away from my apartment and I can get my girlfriend to pick me up here, while you wait? Please, let's not take this any further." she explains.

"Ma'am it's standard procedure, I'm sorry but you're gonna have to take the test. We can call your girlfriend, wife, whoever you wanna call but you still have to take the test." he replies trying not to sound annoyed.

"Damn it." Santana muttered under her breath as she opened her door and tried not to fall flat on her face. She took the test and surprise, surprise, she passed, or failed with flying colours. "Fuck."

"I'm afraid, we're gonna have to take you in, Ms..?"

"Lopez. Santana Lopez. Can I atleast call my girlfriend? She's waiting for me." she pleads.

"You can do that at the station Miss Lopez." he said leading her to the police car as his partner took over her car.

It's already eight o'clock in the evening and Santana has yet to call or text her back. Brittany is feeling uneasy to say the least. She's still not touched her dinner because she's been waiting on her girlfriend. Ever since that day, she always gets agitated when Santana comes home late or doesn't call her back. She just can't shake off the bad feeling of not knowing where she is exactly or what she's doing. She is fully aware of the change in Santana's mood and the way she interacts with Brittany these days and it hasn't exactly helped that the brunette hasn't been in touch with her.

The landline rings and the blonde dancer springs up and runs to the phone, her heartbeat racing and her hands felt clammy. "Hello?"

"Baby!" Santana greeted.

"Santana? Where are you? I've been so worried, you haven't text or called me back." she replied, anxiousness audible in her tone.

"Britt,baby, calm your tits. I've just been hanging out with the boys, you know." she slurred.

"Are you drunk? Where the hell are you?" frustration kicks in as she tries not to shout.

"Uhm, Britt, I need you to …"she hesitates. "..pick me up."

"Where from?" the dancer asked confused. Santana hardly ever asks her to pick her up.

"The police station?" she replies.

"What the fuck, San? You were drunk driving? What the hell were you thinking?" she shouts now, letting her control go.

"I had a little too much okay? I'm allowed to fuck up sometimes. Cut me some slack. Are you gonna pick me up or do I need to give Quinn a fucking call? I'm running out of change here." the Latina argues, realizing how rude she sounded but she's too stubborn to even apologize.

"I'll be ten minutes." the voice sighed on the phone, defeat clear in her voice as she hung up and ran to the hallway to grab her keys and purse and hail a taxi.

Santana has never imagined what the inside of a jail cell looked like because she never planned on ever spending even an hour in one. Despite her rebellious teenage years, she has managed to dodge the local authorities, especially in Lima. Her uncle worked in the local police station so she never really had the fear of ending up in one and her offences were never ever this serious. She found herself looking around this concrete box, taking in her surroundings for the first time since she got here. The room had an awful stench of what can only be described as urine mixed with stale alcohol and cigarettes. It was truly disgusting. Everyone looked like crap, including Santana herself, she decided. Two teenage delinquents who are clearly blazed off their minds sat in a corner laughing at something, well just anything really. A young woman in her twenties lying on one of the benches wearing an outfit next to nothing, she looked like shit. Make up running down her face, hair in a tangles mess, her clothes are mismatched and she was wearing the highest pair of hooker heels. Santana's lips turned into a frown at her own realization. This girl,woman, probably not that much younger than her, working the streets at night to provide for herself and probably her family. This society is twisted. So twisted.

The sound of the metal gate sliding open interrupted her thoughts and an officer appeared to be calling her name.

"Miss Lopez, you can go now. Someone paid your bail." he said, signalling her to stand up and get out of the cell.

She stood up, still feeling a little under the influence, okay maybe more than a little. "Muchos gracias officer." she smiled walking past the tall young officer, into the front of the premises.

Brittany stood near the reception with her back to Santana. She was looking down at her feet, as though she was checking out her shoes but in reality, Santana knew her girlfriend was upset. Really upset. She must have hurried out of their apartment because she was wearing a really old pair of sweats, her running shoes and a loose hoody over a wife beater but she still managed to look as beautiful, as always. Sensing that someone was walking towards her, she clocked her head to the side to see the brunette slowly heading to her direction. Santana looked like crap from this distance. She looked like she needed a good warm bath immediately and somehow, Brittany had a hunch that the Latina would be spending that warm bath by herself. The blue eyed dancer has never been one to be pissed off easily so for her to be genuinely mad at Santana was saying something. Of course she's worried about her girlfriend. She's been worried sick and this is the reason why she's so angry at Santana right now, she couldn't even muster a "hello" when the shorter woman finally reached her.

"Hi baby." Santana greeted, her breather stank of whatever she's been drinking and cigarettes. She'd been smoking again.

Their eyes met for a brief moment and it was evident that the Latina was still intoxicated. "Your car's outside. They gave me the keys, so I guess I'll be driving us back." Brittany replied sarcastically as she walked out of the building not bothering to wait on her girlfriend.

Santana didn't say another word, acknowledging Brittany's mood. It would be better for both of them if she just bit her tongue and avoid saying something that will cause the blonde to be more pissed off. She followed her girlfriend to her car and got into the passenger's side.

The roar of the engine was probably a good metaphor for Brittany's current state. She gripped the steering wheel as tightly as possible until her knuckles turned white. Her eyes remained on the road, not wanting to even steal a glance at Santana who was sitting quietly fidgeting on the fabric of her jeans. She wanted to say something, so many things. To bring up all their fucking issues once and for all but not now, not when she's driving and Santana's still not fully sober. That would be a bad idea. But the silence enveloping the inside of the car was suddenly interrupted by a single sentence.

"Britt,..." she hesitated "...I'm sorry." she finally spits out.

The blue eyed woman merely acknowledge her girlfriend's apology. She knew the Santana wasn't apologizing willingly. This is more than this drunken escapade to her. Something needs to be done- said, about the last two months.

"Britt? Brittany, talk to me. What the hell do you want me to say!" Santana shouted out of annoyance, out of frustration.

Finally Brittany turned to her with intense blue eyes. She's trying to hold back the tears and Santana could tell because her eyes were red around the edges, and glossy under the headlights. "What do you want me to say, Santana? What do you wanna hear from me?"

"I just want you to tell me that you forgive me and that it's okay that I fucked up tonight." she said looking straight to the road, realizing that Brittany has pulled over to the side of the highway.

The car came to a halt and Brittany unbuckled her seat belt and turned to face Santana, this time with tears glistening down her cheeks. "So you know how I feel now. How I have been feeling for the past two months."

"Britt, you can't throw that at me! It's not fair." Santana exhaled.

"No San, what's not fair is that you can't look at me with the same look you used to give me. What's not fair is that I know, even if you don't mean to, I know you think it's my fault." she cried, her own fingers brushing away the intolerable tears running down her cheeks.

"I don't..." she paused waiting for the right words to come to her. "...I don't know what to think anymore."

"You think I don't blame myself for this?" she asks a rhetorical questions. "San, every fucking day, I wake up blaming myself for this. Every time I look at you, I see the way you look at me back, I know what you're thinking cos I'm thinking the same thing."

Santana looked up at Brittany. Those blue eyes unrecognizable under the pain and the tears. She reached out to touch her girlfriend's hands but the blonde woman just jerked her hand away. "Britt, I was overwhelmed by everything that's happened. I just, I'm trying to get past this."

"You know Santana, I love you so much. I love you so goddamn much, I sat here not saying a word about it this whole time. But you never tried hard enough because if you have, we would not be sitting here having this argument. Do you think you're the only one who lost him? I lost him too and he wasn't the only one I lost that night. I lost you too. You can't even look at me without blaming me for what happened. What hurts the most is that I just wanted to you tell me you forgive me and everything will be okay and that it wasn't my fault. I needed that from you but you never tried to give that to me because you didn't try hard enough." Brittany sat there looking defeated, like she's given up. Like there's nothing much to hold onto.

Santana was gobsmacked by the honesty that came from Brittany. The realization hits her hard, like a bucket of ice to her face. Her girlfriend was right. She never gave Brittany any reassurance even though she knew it wasn't her fault, she never said it out loud. "I'm sorry Britt. I'm really really sorry."

"Me too, San." she replied biting her lip, as if she was trying not to say her next line, "I'm moving in with Quinn and Rachel for a bit."

Santana looked at her with sorry eyes. How the hell did it get to this? Now Brittany is leaving her. "Britt, please. Let's talk about this. We can fix this."

"We already have." she said, voice still quivering as she turned back to turn the engine back on. She pumped the gas pedal and the engine roared violently as she tried to pull away from the leeway.

"Brittany, please, I'm begging you." Santana cried.

It only took two seconds for her to lose concentration. Two seconds for her to turn and face Santana until she heard -felt a sudden impact on her side. She heard the sickening sound of shattering bones and her girlfriend's terrorised scream and then a blinding light.

AHHHHH! So yes, I haven't decided on what will happen next haha...I need ideas! Feedback is appreciated! Hope you liked it!