Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot all characters are owned by RIB and Glee.

Thanks again to my friend and beta, 216BLT, for all of your support and helping keep me motivated.

TW: References to child abuse, domestic violence, suicide, murder, graphic descriptions of crime scene

Noah stared out of the window in the backseat of Finn's mom's SUV, his heart pounding in his chest as he drummed a staccato beat onto the rough material of his jeans in time with the beat of his heart. He bit down on his tongue to fight the urge to tell Carole to drive faster as they hit yet another red light. He didn't think he ever realized that Lima had this many stoplights. They must've hit every single one. He should've driven himself to his house. He would've already been there by now. He had been halfway down Finn's driveway midway through his conversation with Quinn but his best friend had to get his mom involved. She had stopped him and insisted she drive him home; his anxiety and his need to be with his siblings had prevented him from arguing further.

"Stop staring at me," Noah snapped at his best friend. He had felt the weight of Finn's gaze on the side of his head ever since they started driving through the familiar states of Lima. Finn's staring was doing nothing to calm the chaos in his mind

"Sorry," Finn mumbled, glancing away sheepishly.

Noah could hear the sirens before they even made the turn onto his street, his stomach churning uncomfortably at the shrill sound. He drew in a deep breath, holding it in his lungs as Carole navigated her SUV slowly down the street toward his house. His heart lodged in his throat as he took in the chaotic scene before him, his hands clenching into fists as his brain fought to process what he was seeing. There were so many police cars, the blue and red lights bouncing off of the darkened houses and causing Noah to squint against their harshness. His blood froze in his veins when he saw the ambulances parked at the end of the driveway and a white van with the words crime scene unit emblazoned on the side of it.

His house was a crime scene. Quinn told him that she thought someone was hurt before she hung up, urging him to come quickly but this was so much worse than he could've ever imagined. He leapt from the car as soon as Carole pulled to a stop in front of his house, ignoring her protests as he sprinted toward the house. He stopped short when he realized he didn't know where anyone was, watching as officers in blue uniforms wound bright yellow crime scene tape around the perimeter of his front yard. His eyes darted around the front yard, frantically scanning for any sign of his siblings or his mom. Why couldn't he find them?

"Noah?"

His head snapped around at the sound of his name and the unfamiliar voice, coming face to face with a tall blonde woman that he recognized as Brittany's mom, "Mrs. Pierce?"

"Oh, Noah, thank god you're here. Rachel-"

"Is she hurt? Where is she? What happened?"

"Come with me," She urged gesturing for him to follow her as they weaved their way toward the ambulance at the end of the driveway, "She's hurt but she hasn't stopped screaming since they put her in the ambulance. She won't let anyone touch her. I can't get her to calm down."

He heard Rachel before he saw her. She was screaming, the sound shrill as it became the only thing Noah could hear. The terror in her voice caused goosebumps to break out across his skin. He froze when his eyes fell on Rachel's small form on the stretcher in the back of the ambulance. She looked so tiny surrounded by the paramedics, who were trying to help her to no avail as she continued to scream, kicking and thrashing in the center of the small cot. He didn't know what he was supposed to do. He had never heard Rachel scream like this, the sound so raw and painful that his own throat ached in sympathy. He didn't know what he was supposed to do or if he could get her to stop screaming. Santana did this, never him. Santana calmed nightmares and soothed tears, and Noah was never there. Fuck, he should've been there.

He felt a gentle pressure on the small of his back and turned to see Mrs. Pierce staring at him expectantly. He sighed as he climbed in the back of the ambulance, the paramedics protesting his presence but he ignored them as he seated himself at the end of the stretcher. Rachel must've recognized his presence as she stopped screaming for a beat, her eyes scanning him wide in her pale face, surprised as if she couldn't believe he was actually there. It only lasted for a second and then her face crumpled as she began to wail, repeating his name over and over again. She launched herself at him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. Noah adjusted their position, cradling her in his lap, wrapping one arm tightly around her and using the other to stroke her hair awkwardly as he attempted to comfort her, feeling wholly inadequate at the task.

Blaine pulled his hands away from his ears when Rachel finally stopped screaming. He didn't think his sister would ever stop being so loud. He didn't know if she was screaming for five minutes or five hours but it felt like forever. He had hidden himself away inside the itchy blanket that Mrs. Pierce wrapped around him, using his hands and the fabric to muffle the sounds of his sister's cries. He peeked one eye out from the crease in the blanket to see why Rachel had finally stopped screaming. His eyes widened slightly as he saw Rachel being cradled against the familiar form of his big brother. Noah was here. Noah was here and he was helping Rachel but she was still crying.

Blaine felt tears start trickling down his cheeks at the sight of his older brother, relief flooding his body. He had thought he and Rachel were going to be alone forever. Santana hadn't followed them like she told them she would and he hadn't seen Quinn. He threw the blanket off as the first sob burst from his throat, scrambling up on the stretcher as he threw his arms around Noah's neck, his fingers brushing against Rachel's as he clung to his older brother.

"Blaine? Where'd you come from?" Noah choked out, surprised by his little brother's appearance.

Noah hadn't been able to hide his surprise when his little brother flung his arms around his neck, squeezing so tightly that Noah gasped for breath. He hadn't even seen Blaine when he had climbed into the ambulance so focused on Rachel that he had forgotten to look for his little brother, forgetting that he must be nearby. He could feel Blaine's tears pooling in the collar of his shirt and the way he trembled against him. He could tell how scared both Rachel and Blaine were and he still didn't know why. He had seen them upset before but never like this. They were terrified and he felt fear curdle in the pit of his stomach.

"I want Mom," Rachel hiccuped around a sob, her voice muffled by the fabric of Noah's shirt.

Blaine pulled away from Noah, sniffling as he wiped the back of his hand over his cheeks, clearing away the tears from his skin, searching his older brother's face, "Do you know where mommy is, Noah?"

Noah shook his head, running a hand over his face to force it into a more neutral expression, "I-I don't. I came to check on you guys first. Rach, what happened to you?"

Rachel just shook her head as she buried her face further into Noah's chest. Noah's attention turned to Blaine when he knew that he wouldn't get an answer from Rachel.

"Daddy pushed her. She hit her head."

Noah felt anger flare in his chest at Blaine's words, swallowing thickly as he fought to keep his emotions in check, "Do you know where your dad is now?"

Noah could see all the remaining color drain from his brother's face, his eyes darting around the back of the ambulance almost as if expecting Hiram to pop up from behind him, "N-n-no. We-we hid and mommy was screaming and then it was quiet and Santana was there and there was blood-"

"Blood? Whose blood, Blaine?"

"I don't know," Blaine wailed, "It was on her hands and-and her pants and her shoes."

Blaine's words were lost to tears once again, as he buried his face in his hands. Rachel was crying again too, mumbling about her head hurting and feeling sick. Noah couldn't do this. He couldn't ask them to tell him what happened. He was trying to comfort them and he just made everything worse. They were terrified and they were so little. He needed to find Santana.

Noah reached for Blaine with his free hand, pulling Blaine's hands away from his face, "You're okay, bud. You're safe," Blaine nodded and Noah could see Mrs. Pierce over his little brother's shoulder. He knew she was waiting for him to get them calm enough for the paramedics to take over, "Blaine, do you know where San is?"

Blaine shook his head, twisting to sit on the stretcher beside Noah, leaning against his older brother. He wound one of his own arms around Noah's larger one, clutching it tightly, "We-we played a game. It wasn't even a fun game. Everything was dark. She said she was coming with us but she didn't."

Noah blew out a breath in frustration. None of what Blaine said made sense to him. His head spun. None of this made sense.

"Listen, I'm gonna go find-

"No!" Rachel cried, clutching Noah's shirt in her fists.

"You can't leave us!" Blaine shouted at the same time.

"Shh, you're okay. Rach, the paramedics need to check you out, Mrs. Pierce will stay with you-"

Rachel shook her head vehemently, burrowing deeper into Noah's arms, "I don't want her to stay with me, I want you."

"Me too," Blaine mumbled around the fingers that had found their way into his mouth, a habit that he had broken years ago. Noah's heart ached at how young his brother seemed, sucking on his fingers as a way to soothe himself. He suddenly looked five years old again.

"Hey, it's okay, "Noah soothed, "Mrs. Pierce is really nice and she's Brittany's mom, you guys love Britt," Rachel shrugged, while Blaine nodded, "I know you're scared but no one is gonna hurt you. The paramedics and Mrs. Pierce just want to help you and I need to find Santana and Quinn."

Blaine removed his fingers from his mouth, wiping them on his pant leg as he stared up at his brother, his dark eyes wide and fearful, "But what if you don't come back? San left us too. She said she would be right behind us and she never came."

"Of course, I'm gonna come back, bud. Santana too. But I gotta find her first," Blaine nodded but seemed unconvinced, "I'm scared too, Blaine but we both gotta be brave. You too, Rach. You have to let them help you."

Blaine nodded solemnly, his middle and ring finger once again making their way into his mouth. The action was so familiar and yet so unfamiliar that it made Noah's chest ache. He wanted to be angry but he couldn't help the overwhelming sadness at how traumatized and terrified his siblings seemed. Rachel allowed him to pass her over to Mrs. Pierce, her grip on him tightening momentarily before she relaxed. He climbed down from the back of the ambulance, grateful that Blaine and Rachel had seemed to listen to his words, neither one protesting as he left.

He found Finn immediately upon exiting the ambulance, the other boy standing with his mother at the edge of the yellow crime scene tape. He was lucky his best friend was so tall and stood out against the other onlookers who had gathered. He wanted to yell at his neighbors to go back to their houses and tell them that whatever happened wasn't for them to witness. They had lived on this street for seven years and no one had paid any attention to them for all of those years and it wasn't right that they were gawking now.

"Finn, have you seen Quinn or Santana?"

Finn shook his head, bringing one hand up to rub at the back of his neck as his other hand found its way into his pocket, "I haven't..I haven't seen them. Were they-were they in the house? Do you know what happened?"

Noah sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels, as he blew out a breath, "They weren't in the house. The twins were home. The twins..the twins are little, and Rachel's hurt. They weren't much help," Finn sighed, glancing away from Noah, the expression on his face a cross between sheepish and guilty, "What did you hear?"

Carole chose that moment to notice the two boys talking, swiftly putting a hand on Finn's shoulder and shaking her head to silence whatever he was going to say next. The look that mother and son exchanged didn't go unnoticed by Noah and he felt anger prickle his skin, "Nothing. I didn't hear anything. We can help you find them."

"I don't need you to help me find them. I need you to tell me what you know."

Something bad had happened that he knew but he didn't know what. It seemed like no one was willing to tell him what exactly happened and he was over it. He could tell from the constipated look on his best friend's face that he had heard something in the gossip of his neighbors and the chatter of the police officers that covered the front lawn of his house. Someone knew what happened and they were going to tell him.

Carol crossed in front of Finn, putting her hands on Noah's shoulders and drawing his attention to her, "It's just gossip, Noah. It's not important right now. What is important is finding your sisters. Focus on that."

Noah twisted away from her, shrugging her hands off of his shoulders, striding to where the yellow crime scene tape encircled his lawn. He had barely lifted it to get underneath when he felt a hand clamp down on his wrist. He glanced over to see a burly officer had taken hold of his wrist, one hand on Noah and the other hovering above the utility belt at his waist.

"You can't come in here, son."

"I live here, sir," Noah explained, grateful when the officer dropped his wrist, as he attempted to duck under the tape again. His movements stilled when he heard the office clear his throat.

"This is an active crime scene, young man. I can't let you in."

"Then arrest me or get out of my way!" Noah shouted, anger igniting his bones, causing his heart to race inside of his chest.

"Noah," Carole warned, "Sir, he's just looking for his sisters. They aren't out here with everyone else. He's worried."

The officer sighed, his eyes roving over Noah and Carole before he backed away, "Five minutes, son. You don't go in the house and I didn't see anything."

"Thank you," Noah called over his shoulder as he ducked under the crime scene tape.

He didn't know where to look and didn't immediately see either of his sisters. He didn't understand how his sisters could manage to get lost in their front yard. They weren't Blaine and Rachel. They didn't hide and they wouldn't have left the twins alone. He scanned the yard frantically, trying to ignore the stream of people coming in and out of the house and the way his stomach flipped uncomfortably at the thought of what the inside of his home might contain.

He spotted Quinn first, crumpled on the ground underneath the large tree that he had fallen out of once when he was ten. He sprinted in her direction, dropping to the grass in front of her as he scanned her for any obvious injuries. His heart clenched in his chest as he took in her shell-shocked form. She seemed lost, oblivious to the movement around her as she stared at something he couldn't see, her eyes cloudy and unfocused. Noah cupped her cheek with one hand, whispering her name softly. He hoped it would be enough to bring her attention to his presence. Her thousand-yard stare made him uncomfortable and he didn't know how to bring her back.

Quinn blinked at the contact, confused hazel eyes searching her brother's features, "Noah?"

"Hey," Noah murmured, offering her a small smile as he allowed his hand to fall from her cheek, "I thought I told you to stay at Britt's."

Quinn sighed, glancing away from him, "I couldn't. San was here. She was all alone. She needed me."

"Do you know where she is?"

Quinn shook her head, her gaze becoming far away once again, "She was just here. There are so many people, Noah. Where did all these people come from?"

Noah could tell by the soft, confused quality of his sister's voice that she was retreating backward, attempting to hide away in her mind again. He couldn't let that happen. He needed her to stay with him but he didn't know how to do that. His relationship with Quinn had always been difficult. He loved her. She was his sister but they were so different that he didn't know how to relate to her.

"Don't worry about them, Q. Are you..are you hurt?"

"N-no. I threw up," she mumbled, suddenly sounding like she was five years old again. Noah didn't understand why that mattered. He studied her carefully, watching as different emotions played across her features. He backed up slightly when she sprang to her feet as if just remembering something she forgot, "Rachel's hurt. San was carrying her and she was hurt. Where is she? I need to find her."

Noah reached for her, catching her by the elbow to prevent her from running away from him, "Rach is okay, Quinn. She's okay. She's with the paramedics and Mrs. Pierce. They're gonna take good care of her," Quinn nodded, some of the tension releasing from her body as she deflated, "Quinn, what happened? Where are Mom and Hiram?

Quinn wrenched her arm away from him, backing away slowly, tripping over her own feet as he reached for her trying to prevent her from falling to the ground, nearly toppling them both but he managed to keep them upright, "I can't…Noah, I can't…please..please..I can't."

Noah watched as her breathing quickened, her body tense yet again as her eyes grew unfocused. She was panicking and he didn't know how to stop it. He could hear the panic in the words she repeated over and over again, but they were strangled as if they were stuck behind the breaths she couldn't take. Her face had grown impossibly paler as her eyes filled with tears. He reached for her, encircling her in his arms, even as she fought against him, her fists ineffectually striking his chest as she tried to get away.

"Breathe, Quinn. You're okay. You need to breathe," Noah soothed, tucking her head under his chin as she trembled and gasped against him.

He needed to calm her down. Her heart was beating too fast and she sounded like she was choking on air, her entire body shaking with the force of her attempts at pulling air into her lungs. He had never seen her like this and he didn't know what to do. He hated that he was so bad at this. He had watched Santana do just this for years. She made it look so easy and yet he couldn't even manage to keep one of his siblings from panicking. His actions seemed so clumsy and ineffective. He was trying to emulate Santana and he was doing it all wrong. He repeated the command for her to breathe over and over again until he felt her breathing slow, matching his own. He scanned the yard over the top of Quinn's head, trying to locate Santana. He saw a flash of blonde hair from the corner of the house. Brittany. He knew wherever Brittany was, Santana had to be close by. He squinted his eyes into the darkness until he could just barely make out two small figures huddled together in the shadows of the house.

He held Quinn against him as her breathing slowed, never taking his eyes off of the side of his house. He itched to move in that direction, but he needed to make sure Quinn was calm. He held his younger sister until she pulled away from him. She swiped her eyes with the back of her hands and stared into the distance and that fucking blank, haunted look was back. Noah hated that look. He had seen the same expression in Blaine's eyes when he left him in the ambulance and he hated it. He hated how quiet and still they all seemed.

"C'mon, Quinn," he said, reaching for Quinn's hand and pulling her in the direction of the house.

Quinn dug her heels into the grass, stiff and unmoving, trying to break Noah's grasp on her hand, "No, Noah. I can't-I can't go back in there."

Noah stopped, turning back towards Quinn. "We aren't going inside," he assured her. Quinn nodded and stopped fighting against him. He led Quinn with him to the side of the house, stopping short and dropping Quinn's hand, when they found Brittany sitting cross-legged on the ground, absentmindedly picking at the blades of grass, "Britt."

Brittany's head shot up at the sound of Noah's voice. She jumped to her feet, striding towards them and wrapping her arms around Noah tightly. "Noah, thank god, you're here."

"Britt, where's-" Noah started, the words dying in his throat as he finally spotted Santana.

Santana was leaning against the side of the house, her eyes fixed on the stars above her. She looked so small. He could think of a million words to describe his sister but small had never been one of them. But that was the only word he could think of to describe her now, crumpled on the ground, legs akimbo, like a forgotten doll that had been dropped and abandoned on the side of the house. He averted his eyes from her bare legs and socked feet when he realized she was only clad in a shirt, "Is she-"

"She's not hurt, Noah. I-I don't know what she is. I've never seen her like this, she's..she's.." Brittany's words trailed off when she was unable to find the words to describe Santana's current state, turning her attention towards Quinn, "Quinn, how are you doing?"

Quinn didn't respond with anything more than a slow shake of her head as her body shuddered with the tears she had been holding back. Brittany made gentle shushing noises as she pulled Quinn into her arms, tucking her against her tightly, resting her head on the top of Quinn's bowed head as she rubbed Quinn's back gently. Noah watched as his sister seemed to relax in Brittany's embrace so different from the way she had remained stiff and unmoving when he had tried to comfort her.

"Do you..did she tell you what happened?"

Brittany shook her head, bringing one hand up to cover Quinn's exposed ear, attempting to muffle her words, "She didn't say. She hasn't really said anything, but it's bad. Really, really bad."

"Where are her clothes?"

Brittany used her head to gesture towards the lawn behind her and Noah saw Santana's pants and shoes scattered throughout the lawn like debris. "There was..there was so much blood. She-she took them off. She has clean clothes in her car but she wouldn't let me get them. She didn't want me to leave."

"Give me her keys," Noah commanded, holding his hand out expectantly for Santana's keys, "Stay with them. I'll be right back."

Noah may not be able to comfort any of his siblings but he could take care of them in other ways. He was able to locate Santana's Cheerios duffle quickly in the trunk of her car, searching it for a pair of sweatpants and a spare pair of shoes. His stomach clenched when he saw the other duffel bags in the trunk of Santana's car, knowing they contained spare pairs of clothing for his siblings. He had forgotten about his sister's habit of packing go bags for each of them, always wanting to be prepared in case the worst happened and she needed to get them out of the house quickly. He hated that Santana always felt the need to be so prepared.

Noah jogged back over to his sisters and Brittany, unsurprised to find that they hadn't moved. Noah instructed Brittany to take Quinn to her mom or Carole, ignoring Quinn's protests as Brittany led her away. His attention turned fully to Santana. She seemed so broken and so lost. She seemed stuck in some moment that he wasn't a part of. She hadn't moved or spoken since he found her and he wasn't even sure she knew he was there.

"Santana," he stated, his eyes fixed on the side of the house as he attempted to draw Santana's attention to him. She was too vulnerable, only half dressed and she deserved some privacy.

Santana jumped, startled, barely able to stop herself from hitting her head on the brick wall of the house when Noah's voice pierced her muddled mind. Her eyes widened as she saw her older brother standing in front of her, a pair of her red Cheerios sweatpants and a clean pair of sneakers dangling from his outstretched hands. Her cheeks flooded with embarrassment as her eyes filled with tears, remembering how she had stripped her tainted clothing from her body and the shock of the cold water as it hit her skin as she tried uselessly to cleanse herself but it hadn't been enough. She stood on shaking legs as he handed her clothes to her, turning his back to her. She slid the pants up her legs, the fabric clinging to the places of her skin that were still damp from the garden house, shuddering as she remembered the frozen water hitting her skin. She sat back down sliding her shoes on before calling for Noah to join her.

Her voice sounded raspy and her throat hurt as if it had been scratched by sandpaper but she wasn't sure if it was from disuse or the force of her vomiting. She watched as Noah crossed the lawn to sit beside her, mirroring her position, pulling his legs against his chest, his arms falling by his side. Santana studied him from the corner of her eyes, her stomach churning. She could see the way his eyes were searching her, expectations and questions shining within them. She didn't want to tell him what happened. She knew he was waiting for her to speak but she suddenly had no words. She didn't know how she was going to tell him what she saw that night. She couldn't find the words to tell him that their mother had been murdered by her husband and she couldn't stop seeing her mom's lifeless form every time she closed her eyes. Her stomach surged and she bent away from him vomiting once again. Her body shuddered with every heave. She felt Noah's hand on her back, rubbing gently, her shirt damp with the sweat that coated her clammy skin and she didn't pull away.

Santana stayed turned away from him once she had finished heaving, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, and scooting closer to him to get away from the mess she had made. She pressed herself against Noah's side from shoulder to hip, seeking the warmth she felt emanating from his skin. She didn't think she ever felt so cold. She couldn't look at him and tell him what happened. She rested her cheek on her knees focusing on a shrub at the edge of the backyard, watching as it blurred and came into focus each time she blinked away the tears that pooled in her eyes.

"They're dead," she whispered, her words harsh as they cut through the stillness of the night like a knife.

Noah felt his blood freeze in his veins at Santana's whispered words. Her words were so soft that they had nearly been swallowed by the chaos that surrounded them. But he heard her, her whispered words seeming like a scream as his heart froze in his chest and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He wanted her to look at him. He needed to see her eyes. He didn't understand. She had to be wrong.

"San, I don't…I don't understand what you're telling me," he stammered, disbelief lacing each word as he shook his head in confusion.

Santana winced at the quiver in her brother's voice, a tear snaking down the surface of her skin at the pain and confusion she heard in her brother's words. She slowly turned her head to face him, biting her lip and sucking in a wet breath as she attempted to keep the rest of her tears at bay. She met Noah's gaze, her breath catching in her throat as she saw the emotion swirling in his eyes and the tears that he was refusing to let fall.

"Mom's dead. Hiram, too."

Noah drew in a sharp breath as he blinked against the tears in his eyes, his entire body trembling with the force of keeping his emotions contained, "How?"

Santana squeezed her eyes shut as she felt her heart race in her chest, snapshots of that evening playing in her mind. Hiram crumpled against the wall of the living room, his blood and brain matter splattered on the wall behind him, like some sort of twisted halo. Her mom's cold, lifeless form, the waxy feel of her skin as Santana sought to find a pulse. She swallowed against the bile that was rising in her throat as tried to push away the memories. She had to tell him. He needed to know what happened and maybe if she told him, if she told anyone, she could stop seeing those images in her mind.

"He-he killed her. He..I-I think he stabbed her," Santana managed to explain, her body shuddering as the vivid memory of the ragged oval-shaped wounds that had covered her mother's torso resurfaced, "He shot himself. I-I tried, Noah. I tried to save her but...but it was too late. I..I was too late."

Noah pressed one hand to his mouth as he stared at his sister. Santana had to be wrong. Her mind must have been playing tricks on her. Their mom couldn't be dead. She couldn't be. He glanced away from Santana to her clothes that lay crumpled in the yard, remembering his little brother's words about the blood that had coated Santana's skin and clothing. He knew his sister was telling the truth. His mom was dead, and it didn't seem real. He had just seen her that morning. They had passed each other in the hallway, neither speaking as they drifted passed each other like apparitions. Why hadn't he said anything to her? He couldn't remember the last time he had spoken to her. She was his mom. They lived in the same house, he should be able to remember talking to her, but he couldn't.

He couldn't remember anything but the anger he felt every time he looked at her. He had always been so angry at her. He was angry that she brought Hiram into their lives, that she didn't protect him when Hiram had him arrested, and that she preferred to numb herself with alcohol and pills rather than doing something to save herself or save them. His anger seemed so childish and ridiculous now. He had convinced himself that he hated her. He had only been trying to survive his senior year before he was able to leave it all behind. He could leave behind all the anger, the hate, and the helplessness he felt at his inability to ever do anything. But now she was gone and he couldn't even remember the last time he had a conversation with her.

He studied Santana in the moonlight. She wasn't looking at him anymore. She was shivering in the cool, September air, her knees pulled to her chest as she rocked slightly in a feeble attempt to soothe herself. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that everything had been Santana's to deal with for so long. He hadn't been fair to her. He had left her to deal with everything. He should've been here. He shouldn't have been across town, playing Call of Duty and gorging himself on pizza, while Santana had been here. It shouldn't have been his little sister. It should've been him. Santana shouldn't have had to be the one that tried to help his mom but was too late. She shouldn't have been the one to find them. She was his little sister and he should've protected her from that but he was never there.

"You-you found them?" he questioned, his voice trembling. Santana nodded slightly, her gaze drifting back to him, tears coating her cheeks. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her tighter against his side and he could feel how tense she was as he rubbed his hand up and down her arm, trying to warm her too-cold skin, "Blaine and Rachel?"

"They-they didn't see anything. Mom told them to hide. They were hiding in my closet. They were so scared," she sobbed.

"How…how did this happen? Hiram is..was an asshole but a murderer? Just how?"

Noah felt Santana shake her head against him, and he didn't know if he was really asking her or asking the universe for the answer to his question. He rested his head against the cool brick of the wall behind him staring at the vast nothingness of the stars above him as if they contained all the answers to his questions. Maybe this was always going to be the outcome of his mother's marriage to Hiram. Maybe he should've known, should've predicted that one day they would burn it all down and destroy everything they created including their children. He should've known that they would ruin everything. Their marriage had been a powder keg for as long as he could remember but he didn't understand why now. Why tonight? What was the spark that had ignited the flame?

"It's all my fault," Santana whispered, giving voice to the one thing that had been repeating itself over and over in her mind and that she had been doing her best to ignore.

She pulled away from Noah, grateful that he released his hold on her. She didn't have to look at him to know that he was going to ask questions. She couldn't talk about this if he was touching her. Her mom was dead because of her and he couldn't touch her while she told him that. She didn't deserve to be comforted, not when her mom had died alone in the middle of their fucking living room because of her.

"San, what? How could this be your fault?"

Santana shook her head, turning her head towards the sky, mirroring her brother's position as she did so. "I-I pushed her, Noah. Last..last night, I begged her to leave him-"

"So what? I used to do the same thing all the time. She never listened." Noah told her, cutting her off.

"But she did this time. She had all of our shit packed, our clothes were all over the living room. I-I told her if she didn't leave him, I would take the kids away and she listened but I had to send that stupid text message."

"What text? San, you're..you're not making any sense."

Santana blew out a frustrated breath. She was just trying to get through this moment and he kept interrupting her. If he didn't stop, she didn't think she would ever get the words out, "I took Blaine and Rachel to school this morning and to Brittany's after school. I sent her a text. I fucked up."

She wished that her mom had just responded to that stupid text message. Her mom could've called her. She could've told Santana what she was planning. If Santana had only known she wouldn't have gone to work, she wouldn't have given a damn if she had been fired. She knew her mom hadn't responded for the same reason Santana never should've sent the message that started all of this. She should've known Hiram would see it but Santana had forgotten. Santana had forgotten just how he always knew everything about their movements. She had forgotten and her lapse in memory and judgment had ruined everything.

"Why? Why now? She never listened before."

Santana froze, remembering the bruises and welts on her younger sister's body and her conversation with her mother the night before. She had promised Rachel she wouldn't tell but that promise seemed so ridiculous now. Hiram was dead. He couldn't make good on any of his threats. She had already broken her promise to Rachel by telling their mother. That broken promise had been the catalyst that caused their downfall.

"He..he was hurting Rach. She's covered in bruises-"

Noah drew in a sharp breath through his nostrils, his spine stiffening at Santana's statement, anger coursing through his veins, "Did you know?"

Santana shook her head frantically, a couple of tears being forced from the corner of her eyes with the swift motion, "N-no. Of course, I didn't know. Rachel..she made me promise not to tell but I-I had to, Noah. I had to tell Mom. Rachel is so little and she was so hurt. Mom was shit at protecting us but Rachel and Blaine were different. They were always different. I-I had to try."

"San-"

"I begged her and I-I didn't think she was listening. I changed their routine and she had been listening to me the whole time. Noah, I didn't know."

"San, that doesn't make what happened your fault. You aren't psychic. You didn't know. It's not your fault."

"Then whose fault is it? I'm the one who told her to leave! I'm the one who made them go home with Brittany," Santana sprang to her feet, pacing in front of him, her hands clenched tightly into fists, her voice growing more hysterical with every word she spoke, "I'm the reason she had our bags packed! I'm the reason that they had to sit on the floor of a closet that smelled like piss and puke, while their mother was murdered and their father killed himself!"

Noah watched as her chest heaved with each shouted word. He could hear the edge of panic that laced each word she yelled in his direction. He could almost see how tenuous her grasp on her emotions was becoming, her words were rushed and hurried, forceful in a way that scared him. He followed her lead and climbed to his feet, grasping her upper arms to stop her pacing, ignoring the way she screeched at him to let her go. She twisted in his grasp trying to break his hold but he couldn't let her go. He knew she blamed herself and he couldn't let her do that.

"Stop it, dammit. Santana, stop fighting me and just fucking listen!" he shouted, but Santana kept shaking her head and trying to break his grasp. He tried again, his voice firm, "Look at me," Her movements stilled at the bass in his voice as he crouched slightly trying to catch her eyes, their eyes finally meeting. His heart sank, at how broken and wounded his sister's eyes were, tears shimmering just below the surface, "This is not your fault. You could've fucking packed the bags for her and it still wouldn't be your fault. This is Hiram's fault. He-he stabbed her, not you. It was always his fault."

Santana felt a sob hitch in her chest at Noah's words.

He was wrong. He had to be wrong. She could've done something. She should've done something. She should've been there. She shouldn't have left her mother alone in the house. She should've tried harder. She should've done more.

"But I-I wasn't there. I-I left her alone," she murmured, each word ragged and tremulous.

"Neither was I."

"It's not the same. You..you didn't know."

"But I should've, San. I should've known," Noah explained, tears spilling down his cheeks at his own words, his chest burning and aching with the sobs he couldn't release. He heard Santana's soft gasp as she studied the tears that were burning a path down his skin, "You tried. You always tried and I..I was never there. You at least did something. It could never be your fault."

Santana felt something burst in her chest at Noah's words and the sight of Noah's tears. The tears she had been holding back broke free and they felt scalding hot as they burned a path down her frozen cheeks. Her knees were suddenly weak and if it hadn't been for Noah's hands around her arms, she would've collapsed to the ground again. Noah seemed to recognize the sudden weakness of her legs as he pulled her into his body, guiding them gently to the ground with her cradled to his chest. He rested his chin on top of her bowed head as she wrapped her arms tightly around his midsection, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt in her hands.

She could feel the rumbling of his chest as he whispered over and over again that it wasn't her fault, that they would figure this out as he ran his hands up and down her back. She could feel how his body seemed to tremble against her as his own tears fell into her hair. She didn't believe him when he said it wasn't her fault but the conviction in his voice made her feel like maybe one day she couldn't believe him. She wanted to tell him it wasn't his fault either, that she didn't blame him but her voice had been stolen by her tears and her guilt and the memory of the futility of trying to save her mom.

"Santana. Noah. They're taking Rachel and Blaine to the hospital. Noah, I can drive you there, if you want." They heard a voice say from above them.

Noah glanced up to see Carole standing over them, the unexpectedness of her entrance startling him and causing Santana to freeze. Santana's tears had long since subsided and they were just sitting locked together on the dew-damp grass and he knew that neither of them was ready to face what came next. This had been the easy part if there could even be an easy part to such a terrible ending to their mother's story. But all the unknown was still to come. He didn't know if he was ready for that. He wasn't sure any of them were.

Santana pushed away from Noah, getting to her feet as she turned her head and wiped the tears from her damp cheeks. Noah could do little more than watch as she reconstructed her walls, repairing any chinks in her armor as she stood, reaching down a hand to help him to his feet.

"You should go. Blaine and Rachel need someone with them." Santana told him, her eyes trained on her feet, her voice flat and robotic.

"What-what about you?" He questioned gently, nudging Santana's foot with his own sneaker, the contact enough to get her to make eye contact with him once again.

Santana shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest, her shoulders hunching forward as if she was trying to protect herself, "I-I can't. It-it can't be me, okay? Not now."

Noah nodded, seeming to understand her unspoken sentiment. He could feel her eyes on him as he gathered her blood-soaked clothing from the lawn, fishing her cell phone from the pocket of her pants. He held her clothes against his body and tried not to think about the fact that it was his mom's blood that had soaked into them. Something about holding the blood-stained clothing in his arms made him ache with missing his mom.

He missed the woman his mom had been when he was small. He had convinced himself for so long that he hated her but he loved her once. He was pretty sure he still did. He ached for the mom who had sung him lullabies and kissed his skinned knees when he had fallen off his bike. The mom that signed him up for flag football after his dad left, keeping the promise his dad had made and cheered the loudest at all of his games. His mom had been so much more than the woman who had bled out on the floor of her living room, whose blood now stained her daughter's clothes. He wished he could've made her see that, understand that somehow before her story came to this tragic end.

Noah reached out to press Santana's phone into her hand, his sister glancing from her soiled clothing in his arms to his tear-filled eyes, "Gotta give them to the cops, San."

Santana watched him as he crossed the lawn, handing her clothing to a uniformed officer. She stiffened when she felt Finn's mom wrap an arm around her shoulder, squeezing her slightly. She wanted to pull away but she melted slightly against the older woman's side instead. She had known Carole Hudson-Hummel nearly her entire life and she was such a mom. She was supportive and gentle and always seemed to know just what Santana needed. Santana needed a mom. Her mom was gone but she was all Santana wanted at that moment.

"C'mon, sweetheart. Let's find your sister," Carole murmured, keeping her arm around the shaking girl's shoulder as she began to lead her toward the street.

Santana allowed Finn's mom to lead her across the lawn and to the edge of the driveway. She was able to ignore the looks of the neighbors and the pity in the police officers' eyes while she was tucked in Carole's embrace. She found Brittany, Quinn, and Mrs. Pierce at the end of the driveway just beyond the yellow crime scene tape. Brittany and Quinn sat side by side on the cold concrete, a grey blanket wrapped around their shoulders as they watched the flurry of movement in the street.

"San, we're gonna go, okay? Mrs. Pierce will bring you to the hospital in a little bit." Noah told his sister when he rejoined them.

Santana nodded, ducking out of Carole's embrace, "Tell Rachel and Blaine I'm sorry."

Noah shook his head, as he walked away from her, "You can tell them when you see them."

Santana sighed, rolling her eyes at her brother as she watched him climb into Carole's SUV. She crossed over to the end of the driveway, joining Quinn and Brittany. Quinn startled slightly at Santana's appearance and Santana could tell that she was lost in her head. She sat down on the cool concrete, shivering as the cold seeped through the material of her sweatpants. Brittany offered her a sad smile over the top of Quinn's head as Santana pulled a corner of the thin blanket around her shoulders, huddling close to her little sister. She glanced down and saw Quinn and Brittany's fingers interlaced in Quinn's lap and she reached for Quinn's other hand, locking their fingers together and ghosting her thumb over the smooth surface of her sister's skin. She felt a shudder wrack Quinn's frame at the gentle touch. Quinn allowed her head to drop to Santana's shoulder and Santana could feel a damp patch forming on her shoulder as her sister's tears soaked her shirt.

"San, what's gonna happen now? What's gonna happen to us?" Quinn whispered, her voice so soft that it was nearly swallowed by the material of Santana's shirt. Santana could feel Brittany's gaze on the side of her face as she chewed her lip, trying to find the answer to Quinn's question.

She didn't know what happened now or next. She always seemed to have the answers but she didn't actually know anything. She only knew what Hiram always told her would happen if they were ever taken away because she hadn't kept his secrets. She could hear his hissed words in her head telling her that no one was going to save her, some other family wasn't going to rescue her, and that she would be in a group home or worse and she wouldn't see Blaine and Rachel again. She felt a shiver run up her spine as she squeezed Quinn's hand tighter. She should've gone to the hospital. It should be her with Blaine and Rachel, not freaking Noah. Her heart fluttered in her chest at the thought of not seeing the twins again. Hiram had always told her what would happen if she told anyone what he did but he should've told her what would happen if he made them all orphans. She supposed she and Noah weren't really orphans. Their dad was absent, not dead but she felt like an orphan.

"I don't know," Santana whispered, her eyes trained in the distance.

She didn't know how long they sat on the cold, concrete, watching as the crowd of people thinned, her fucking nosy neighbors going back inside their homes as the excitement died down. She didn't know how long it had been since the ambulances carrying Blaine and Rachel had left or how long it had been since Noah left. Time didn't seem to have any meaning anymore. She didn't know if it had been an hour or five hours since she had found her mom. She fought the urge to glance back at her front door to see if they had brought her mom out of the house yet. She didn't want to be her for that. She couldn't be. She had seen enough crime shows to know exactly how they would take her mom out of the house.

She couldn't be here.

They needed to leave. She needed to go to the hospital. She needed to be with Blaine and Rachel. She shouldn't have let them go to the hospital alone. Her heart started to pound in her chest as her mind raced. She didn't know what was taking so long. Heat flushed over her skin as her muscles twitched with the sudden need to move, to run, to be anywhere else. But Quinn was pinned against her, holding her in place and she couldn't move. Her chest tightened as she suddenly felt like she couldn't breathe.

Quinn pulled away from her sister at the sudden change in Santana's breathing, her breathing suddenly erratic and raspy. She winced as Santana's grip on her hand tightened, the bones in her hand feeling like they were touching as her sister's nails dug into the soft flesh of her palm.

"Santana?" she questioned softly, her eyes trained on the side of Santana's face. Santana didn't respond, her eyes squeezed tightly shut as she rocked slightly and Quinn didn't know what to do. She didn't know how to calm her down. It was Brittany who moved next. It was Brittany who kneeled in front of Santana, bracing herself on Santana's knees as she attempted to call Santana's attention to her.

"San, breathe, sweetie. You're okay. You're safe. I've got you," Brittany soothed, trying to keep her own panic from her voice, forcing her voice to stay at an even, slow tempo as she watched her best friend struggle.

Santana shook her head, releasing her grip on Quinn's hand to pull at the collar of her polo shirt. She didn't know when this shirt had gotten so tight and why she was suddenly so hot, "I..Britt..I can't. They..they are gonna take them away. They-they'll separate us. I-I have to see Blaine and Rachel."

"They who, San? No one is taking anyone away. Blaine and Rachel are at the hospital. They are just getting checked out," Brittany reiterated but her words seemed to have no effect on Santana.

"You..you don't know that. You don't understand. Quinn and I..we have to leave. We have to..we have to.." Santana sputtered, her words refusing to come out, lodged in her throat as she tried to get control over her breathing.

Brittany glanced at Quinn, looking for an answer to the questions she didn't know to ask. But she knew Santana was panicking and she couldn't get her best friend to calm down. Santana's words were garbled and almost nonsensical and if she couldn't understand, she couldn't reassure her.

Quinn rubbed her hand, looking at the small half-moon marks Santana's nails had made in her skin before meeting Brittany's gaze, "Social services. She thinks social services is gonna separate us. We-we were always told that's what would happen."

"Oh," Brittany breathed out, glancing up to see her mother standing next to her, Santana's distress having caught her attention, "They can't do that can they Mom? They wouldn't. We can't let that happen. We have to-"

"Brittany," Whitney warned, glancing from her daughter to Santana and silencing any further statements she was going to make. She nudged Brittany with her hip. Brittany seemed to understand her mother's gesture, scooting over so that Whitney could crouch in front of Santana. Whitney placed her hands on either side of Santana's face, "Santana, look at me," she commanded, her voice gentle as she stroked her thumb over the girl's cheekbone. Santana's eyes flew open, wide, and panicked as large tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Breathe, sweetheart. Just breathe," the older woman soothed. Santana nodded, bringing her own hands up to cover Whitney's, clutching at the older woman's fingers, "There ya go. Just keep breathing," Whitney adjusted her hands on Santana's cheeks so that she was able to hold Santana's hands in her own, guiding them to Santana's lap, but not breaking contact, "I want you to focus on me, San. Blaine and Rachel are safe. They're at the hospital. They're safe. I just talked to Carole-"

"But-But-"

"Shh, sweetheart. You're all safe now. I know you're scared but OFC isn't here to take you away or to separate you-"

"They're here?!"

"Yes, sweetheart. They need to make sure you stay safe, that you have somewhere safe to stay tonight," Whitney explained, as Santana wiped at her tears and sucked in a wet breath, gesturing for the young auburn-haired woman standing just behind her to join them, "Ms-"

"Anna. Anna Jackson but you can just call me Anna," the woman said, stepping forward, hand extended but she quickly dropped it to her side when both Santana and Quinn set her with an icy glare.

Whitney sighed when she saw the tension return to Santana's body. Santana pulled her hands away from Whitney's before wrapping her arms around Quinn's shoulders, pulling the younger girl against her side, as if shielding her, "Anna's going to talk to you two. She just has some questions for you."

"I want to go to the hospital," Santana demanded.

"We will go after. Please girls just try your best to answer her questions," Whitney told them both as she reached for Brittany's hand, ignoring her daughter's protest as she led her away.

"So like Mrs. Pierce said, I'm with-"

"We know who you are," Santana interrupted, "Just ask us what you need to so we can go see our siblings. We need to be with them before you stick us in some shit group home for the night."

"Santana, that's not..that's not my intention at all. We have other options besides a group home."

"You-you do?" Quinn questioned softly.

Anna nodded, "Of course. We like to look at relatives first. Do you have grandparents or maybe an aunt and uncle who might be able to let you stay with them for the night?"

Quinn's heart froze in her chest at Anna's question. Quinn pulled back from Santana slightly as she studied her older sister's face, the muscle in Santana's jaw twitching as an internal struggle played out across her features. They did have an aunt. She was their only relative. Their mom's baby sister who they hadn't spoken to in years but saw every day. She was a guidance counselor. She would help them. She would let them stay with her, "Please, San. Just..please."

Santana didn't look at Quinn unable to ignore the desperation in her younger sister's pleas.

"We have an aunt. Emma Pillsbury. She's the guidance counselor at our school but..but we haven't talked to her in a while. She may live in some shitty shoebox apartment."

"It's a start. Do you have her number?"

Santana nodded, fumbling around in an attempt to locate her cell phone, "Yeah, it's in my phone."

Quinn stared at her older sister, unable to hide her shock, "You have her number? Since-since when?"

Santana glanced away from Quinn, slowly scrolling through the contacts on her phone. This was why she didn't tell Quinn. She knew Quinn would react like this but they went to the same school, Quinn could've talked to Emma, "It doesn't matter."

"It matters to me," Quinn whispered, but didn't speak further when Santana glared at her. Her sister's gaze told her "not now" and "not here."

"Should I-" Santana started, stopping when her voice cracked with anxiety, "Should I call her now?"

Santana stared at Emma's name highlighted in her contacts list, trying to ignore the nervous fluttering in her stomach and the way Emma's name blurred the longer she stared at it. She didn't even remember putting Emma's number in her phone. She didn't even know that Emma worked at McKinley until the first day of her freshman year when their eyes met in the hallway.

She could still remember the flash of anger that had ignited in her chest at the sight of her aunt. The aunt who had just walked away from them like they meant nothing to her, who just left them with their mom and Hiram. They had been close once and then she was just gone. Santana had sought Emma out as soon as the last bell rang that day and made it clear to her aunt that she didn't want a relationship with her just because she went to McKinley. She had ignored the flash of hurt on Emma's face and Emma's stuttered attempts at an explanation but she hadn't been able to ignore the scrap of paper her aunt had pressed into her hand before Santana stormed away from the older woman. She had planned to throw it away and she definitely never planned on using it. Emma was just another person that hadn't wanted them. They didn't need more people to remind them just how unwanted they were.

But they needed their aunt now, and Santana couldn't do anything but brace for the rejection that she expected to come. She didn't know what would happen to them if Emma said no. She didn't know if Emma really had a reason to say yes. Santana had been horrible to her the one time they had spoken and then spent the next two years avoiding her whenever she could. Emma hadn't felt a need to be a part of their lives for the last seven years and Santana didn't know if she had a reason to be a part of their lives now. They were her sister's kids but that hadn't mattered before. She could only hope it mattered now.

Anna shook her head, her eyes trained on the white van that was pulling down the street, "Why don't we just call her on the way to the hospital? We can ask her to meet us there."

Santana nodded, climbing to her feet and reaching down to help Quinn to her feet as well. Santana froze when the white van stopped at the end of the driveway, her eyes fixed on the large block letters that read, "Medical Examiner" on the side. Santana's breathing sped up again as she stared, feeling Quinn clutch at her hand tightly. She knew why they were here and she couldn't move. She wanted to be anywhere else but her feet didn't seem to want to cooperate. She knew they were going to take her mom and Hiram out of the house in those black plastic bags that Santana had only ever seen on TV shows. She couldn't watch her mom be zipped inside a bag.

"Girls, are you ready to go to the hospital?" Mrs. Pierce asked as she and Brittany came to stand beside Anna effectively blocking the van from Quinn and Santana's view.

"Can I…Can I drive my car?" Santana questioned, glancing back at her old Toyota Corolla parked in the driveway. She had worked hard all summer to save up for the car that she had purchased from Burt Hummel. She was still making small payments on it but it was hers and she wanted it with her in case she needed a quick escape plan.

"I'm sorry, Santana. You can't. It's part of the crime scene," Whitney explained, offering Santana a small, sad smile.

"But we..we weren't even here at first. We came after the…Can I at least ask to get some of the stuff out of the trunk?" Santana asked.

"We can certainly ask," Anna assured her, "Maybe if you tell us what it is you need."

Santana felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment, her chest burning with shame as she stared down at her feet. She didn't want Brittany and her mom to know that she had kept spare clothes in her car for herself and her siblings. They already knew so much now and she knew her best friend would have so many questions, "Mine and Quinn's backpacks but there are duffel bags in the car with changes of clothes for all of us."

"Britt and I will ask if we can get them out and then we'll meet you at the hospital," Whitney told her. Santana nodded, grateful that she hadn't asked any more questions, not wanting to explain. She held Quinn's hand tightly as Anna led them to her car, sliding into the backseat.

"San," Quinn murmured, once they were safely ensconced in the back of Anna's car, soft music filtering through the speakers, "Why didn't you tell me you had her number?"

Santana rolled her eyes, pressing her forehead against the cool glass of the window, watching the white lines on the pavement, "It didn't seem important. I never planned on using it."

Quinn sighed, leaning her head against the window, "You still could've told me. Do you think she'll say yes?"

Santana shrugged, "I-I don't know, Q. I hope so because we don't really have another option."

"I think she will," Quinn stated and Santana could hear the false bravado in Quinn's voice through a tell-tale quiver and knew her sister was trying to convince herself that what she was telling herself was the truth. She needed to believe that it was true and Santana wasn't going to take that from her.

"I hope your right," Santana whispered, allowing her eyes to fall closed.

She didn't move her head from the window as she sought Quinn's hands in the darkness of the backseat, lacing their fingers together. Quinn rubbed her thumb over the back of Santana's hand and the soft touches felt like whispers of "it's okay" and "everything will be fine." Santana wanted nothing more than to believe it but she knew everything was fucked and it would be a long time before anything was fine again.

*Loved it, hated it, let me know.*