A/N As always, I'm terribly sorry for the delay. We're almost done here. Hope you like it!

Santana strolled through backstage to pick up Britt after their last show. It was one of their traditions to go out after the last show and eat buckets of ice cream. She turned a corner and saw, to her horror, Brittany talking to Sebastian.

Sebastian stroked Brittany's arm and Santana's blood boiled. He had promised not to touch her. This entire situation was born from his threat to harm her. Britt had always been off limits. Always. He promised.

But Sebastian wasn't one to keep his word. She should have known that. The inconsiderate asshole couldn't even keep a date that he had planned. Santana continued to watch the exchange, her stomach protesting more and more by the minute. Her hands clamped on the mental railing as the fucker suavely handed Britt a neatly folded note. She felt faint, she was sure she knew what was written in that note. How was she supposed to stop Britt from falling into Sebastian's trap?

"Hey San, did you find Britt- oh, what are we watching?"' Morgan asked, interrupting Santana's thoughts. "is that Britt? With Seb?"

"Yes," Santana responded through gritted teeth, still trying desperately to contain her anger.

"Ohh, s-o-m-e-b-o-d-y-s jealoussss!"

"I am not jealous, I'm worried. She doesn't know how dangerous he can be."

"And you would?" Santana was silent.

xxx

After their ice cream party, Britt always fell asleep pretty quickly, giving Santana time to think.

Yes, Sebastian was leaving soon, but that didn't mean that they would never see each other again. He had a habit of turning up at the worst moment possible. She had to do something to keep him from coming near them again. She couldn't handle another one of their relationships.

Right as she was about to fall asleep herself, Santana made up her mind. She needed to go and have a conversation with Sebastian before he left.

xxx

Santana hid in the shadows of Sebastian's apartment, waiting for him to come back.

The door creaked open. Scratching his head, he began to organize his moving boxes.

"You promised not to touch her," Santana growled, stepping out of the darkness. Sebastian turned around, still holding one of his moving boxes.

"How did you get in here?" he asked.

"I have a long history of breaking into boy's houses." She stepped forward. "I repeat, you said you wouldn't touch Britt, fucker."

"What, and you're here to exact revenge?" He looked at her pityingly. "I didn't touch Brittany, you little bitch. I never had any intention to."

"You're a liar, I saw you two together. You gave her a piece of paper/" She crossed her arms, glaring at him. He rolled his eyes.

"That was my manager's card. Britt has potential - I was just being nice."

"You don't know the definition of the word, asshole."

"Nice: Noun. Not telling Britt that you have a nasty habit of cheating on her because you're not sexually satisfied." Sebastian set the box down lightly on a plastic covered chair as Santana gaped like a fish.

"How - how - how DARE you! You don't know anything about Britt and I!" That bastard was not going to come any further between her and Britt.

"How dare I? You're the one who broke into my fucking apartment, if anyone's going to be accusing, it's going to be me. Furthermore, I know a lot more about you and Britt than you think."

"You fucking liar, don't pretend-"

"No pretending here!" Sebastian shouted over her, "Britt's confided in me, you two haven't been nearly as close recently."

"Don't say that, you don't know what you're talking about," Santana said quietly. Sebastian began to advance on her.

"I know exactly what I'm talking about I know because I know you better than anyone."

"No! You're a manipulative, blackmailing dick with a superiority complex!" Santana's back hit the wall, she hadn't even noticed she was retreating.

"So are you!" he shouted, not inches apart from her. There was a moment of silence.

"Get away from me." Immediately, Sebastian stepped back, composing himself.

"I need some beer," Santana announced as she marched toward the kitchen.

"I don't have any beer," Sebastian said, exasperated. He joined Santana who was standing in the middle of the bare kitchen, staring at the vacant fridge.

"You don't have any beer."

"I'm moving out," he gestured to the tightly taped boxes which were stacked everywhere, "anyway, I wouldn't have had beer because, as you know, I don't drink beer."

"Ha!" She poked him in the chest," So you admit that we're not the same!"

"Stop denying it and accept that we are the same fucking person!"

"How can I accept that ! You're vile! You blackmailed me into having sex with you!"

"You're a lawyer! All you do is blackmail people!" he countered.

"Sebastian, look, I don't know why you're pursuing this so doggedly. We're not the same, and we don't get along. I get along with Brittany, she's my girlfriend, and I love her. I don't love you, I never have. It was just for the sex. I don't know why you don't understand that," she said, almost pleadingly.

Something in Sebastian seemed to snap with these words. When he looked up there was a darkness in his eyes - one that was more encompassing than it was during their 'dates'. Santana's heart stopped with fear - there was only one thing that darkness in his eyes meant.

She looked around automatically for any escape route. There wasn't one, but there was a package-cutter on the counter. She grabbed it, holding it shakily as Sebastian advanced upon her, grabbing her roughly by the hips and forcing his mouth on hers. His lips were hard and forceful, his hands dug into her hips hard, instantly bruising her. Her spine bent against the counter, threatening to shatter under the pressure.

This was bad. Sebastian didn't show any signs of letting up or stopping. Like he said, Santana knew Sebastian like she knew herself, but she didn't know just how far he would go. He always showed some restraint or limitations despite the injuries he inflicted on her, but those had been thrown out now.

She whined in protest, fruitlessly trying to push him away and trying pull her head away. He was relentless. She clutched the cutter tighter in her hand, hesitating to use it. She didn't really want to hurt Sebastian - not physically anyway. She just wanted to get out of this alive. Bringing her arms up to her chest and shoving his chest, hard. His only response was to encircle her wrists with his fingers, preventing her from struggling. Her breaths came out in pants as her adrenaline kicked in. She leaned away from him as far as she could manage to avoid his assault on her body. It only enraged him even more. A growl escaped his throat as he threw her to the floor.

The bruises on her hips screamed as she hit the floor. In horror, Santana saw Sebastian kneel over her. Not allowing her mind to imagine was he was about to do, she did the only thing that she could do.

Closing her eyes, she lunged at Sebastian with the cutter. She felt the hot blood coat her hand as the cutter pierced Sebastian's flesh. Shaking, she let go of the handle and watched with blank shock as Sebastian groaned and fell to the ground. She numbly scrambled up and looked at him one last time before fleeing the apartment.

You didn't kill him, you didn't kill him, she repeated the mantra numbly to herself as she stepped into the elevator and hid her stained hand in her coat. You just got his side, that's not enough to kill him.

As the elevator jerked into motion, the adrenaline faded with her shock and numbness. And then the panic and emotion caught up with her, taking over her. She couldn't control the tears that slid down her face, her sobs shook her entire body. Her back slid down the elevator wall as she continued crying. She hugged her body tightly as if to protect herself, trying her best to take deep breaths and calm herself down .

After a few moments of silence, Santana felt a growing sense of relief with her calm. She never had to see Sebastian Smythe again. He would never contact her again. He was going back to Hollywood anyway. She didn't have to worry about him appearing every second without warning. She didn't have to be graced with his insulting presence anymore. She didn't have to deal with his attempts to ruin her life and reputation. She didn't have to deal with the lying that came with the sex, and the scars, the violence she had to endure. He was out of her life for good.

Sebastian gasped as he fell to the floor, pain radiating through his body, pulsating with every heartbeat. He made his way towards his bathroom blindly, clutching the cutter to his side.

Standing unsteadily and looking at himself in the mirror he tried to remember what had happened. He had been talking to Santana, trying to profess his feelings for her, when suddenly the world went fuzzy. He was saying things he never would have dreamed to say. Then - he could barely think about what happened next.

He had gripped her with the intent to do unspeakable things. He had tried to stop himself from throwing her onto the ground. He had tried to stop himself from getting on top of her. He really had tried to stop himself. Then she stopped him. With a package-cutter. He winced as he subconsciously twisted the cutter with his hand.

Gripping the sink, he made a decision he never thought he would make.

A long time ago, his father had pulled him aside. It was the only memory he had of him.

"Son, you have to listen very closely to me." The young Sebastian nodded, confused. "In your life there will come a time when you realize the world doesn't need you." Sebastian became more confused. "When that time comes, you have to do what's best for the world. Do you understand?" Sebastian shook his head. His father looked at him grimly, "One day you will. Just as I have."

That was the day his father had killed himself. After that day, Sebastian understood those words, knowing that his father had advised Sebastian to kill himself if he became too violent. But he never would have thought it would come to this.

But Sebastian knew his father was right. He had gone too far, and he couldn't control himself anymore.

Tears cascaded freely down his face - partially from the pain - as he tugged the cutter out of his side. His heart pounded valiantly, pushing blood through his body as though trying to make use of the time it had left.

He raised the cutter.