The morning after their star gazing adventure, Santana was slow to wake up. Not because she felt bad; despite getting fairly tipsy with Brittany, she had not descended into the state of being hungover, nor had she grown weepy or upset as she so often did when younger. Actually, she could not remember the last time she had slept so long and well, without her sleep broken up with nightmares. She didn't know whether it was the calm, quiet togetherness of the night before with Brittany, staying in the familiar, warm comfort of Brittany's childhood home, or if a little alcoholic assistance had truly been helpful, but whatever it was, when she opened her eyes the next morning, her body warm and relaxed with sleep against Brittany, nose buried in the hollow where Brittany's shoulder joined her neck, she felt good. Rested, her heartbeat steady, her breathing even and calm.

Coming home with Brittany after their impromptu star gazing was a pleasant, if slightly fuzzy, memory that Santana replayed as she came awake, still cuddled into Brittany. She remembered holding Brittany's hand on the drive back to the Pierce home, singing along to Christmas songs on the radio and feeling like her heart was full to the point of bursting with her love and happiness just to be with her and touching her and loved by her. Hailey, Thomas, and Katherine were all already home when they pulled up, their cars ahead of them in the driveway, and although Hailey was already in holed up in her room, doing whatever it was teenaged girls did these days, Brittany's parents were watching a movie together in the living room as they came in. After smiling and exchanging a few pleasantries about their evening, they had bid the girls good night. Santana had glowed with pleasure she tried and failed to conceal when Katherine got up to hug Brittany good night and kiss her cheek affectionately, and then without missing a beat done the same to Santana as well. That tendency of Katherine's to include Santana in any affectionate gestures she gave towards her own daughters was something Santana was still not quite used to, even after ten years of receiving them, and unlike her daughters, she never rolled her eyes or playfully batted her away.

When they finally dragged themselves out of bed, Santana was still smiling, even though it was morning, her most hated time of the day, and she had not yet had her coffee. She held onto Brittany's hand as they padded into the kitchen, not even caring how clingy or codependent she might look for it. The Pierces were all used to the overt affectionate displays from them both at this point, and Santana had long ago stopped feeling self conscious about engaging in front of them. Hailey was not yet up, but Thomas was reading the paper at the kitchen, and Katherine was making coffee as they entered. From the sight of Thomas's and Katherine's empty mugs on the table, this appeared to be the second pot they were making, perhaps specifically for Brittany and Santana.

"Good morning," Thomas greeted them, giving them both a smile, and Katherine too turned to them, her smile a shade brighter as she returned the greeting and lined up two mugs beside the coffee maker for them both.

As Brittany and Santana made their way over to fix their cups, Katherine gave Brittany a light hug around the shoulders, then repeated the gesture to Santana. When Santana leaned into her embracing arm, Katherine smiled, keeping her arm around her and smoothing back her hair with affection as she asked the girls about their plans for the day. They didn't have any, really, other than Brittany's suggestion from the day before that she and Santana go pick out food at the grocery store that Santana would be willing to eat during her stay. Santana wasn't looking forward to the trip- she still hated being confronted with food in large amounts, and grocery stores were often ripe with crowds, men she found scary, and other potentially stressful situations. But this was Lima, a smaller and more familiar setting than most Manhattan grocery stores, and Brittany had been firm that they would do this. After all Brittany's efforts to give her such a good time yesterday, she could man up and do this with her today.

Thomas and Katherine seemed to either sense that Santana and Brittany would want the kitchen to themselves to eat breakfast, or else perhaps Brittany had had a private conversation with them Santana wasn't aware of. Regardless, Thomas took his paper into the living room with a nod and smile of acknowledgement, and Katherine too took their mugs to the sink, giving Santana an affectionate shoulder squeeze as she passed by to follow him into the living room. It was these kinds of little gestures from her that had always made Brittany joke to Santana that she was the favorite Pierce child- and although Santana knew it was a joke, although she was now a grown woman, she still privately reveled in those little touches.

It was more to her than just touch. Those tiny, frequent gestures from Katherine Pierce spoke to Santana more than words ever could about the woman's love and acceptance for her, that she regarded her with the same approval that she did her own daughters. Even after ten years, it was something she treasured.

Santana managed this morning to eat all of her cereal, and a couple of strawberries too. She felt proud of herself to what she privately thought was a ridiculous extent when she took her bowl to the sink and followed Brittany to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

She remained in the same calm, almost "normal" state of being as she and Brittany dressed, showered, and brushed their teeth together, even able to separate from Brittany a few times to get clothes or other things they needed. As they got into Brittany's car and drove to the grocery store, Santana felt only faint twinges of nerves. She lifted her chin, purposely adjusting her walk and her body language so it showed nothing but projected confidence as she walked with Brittany inside. She didn't want to look like anything less than the badass bitch everyone had known her to be if anyone in the place happened to recognize her. No one in Lima needed to know and laugh at just how far she had fallen.

Nevertheless, she was relieved when Brittany deliberately put Santana in front of her at the shopping cart, keeping her body as a buffer between anyone else who might come closer. Santana felt a little silly, but also secure, comforted, to have the closeness of Brittany's arms beside hers on the cart handles, her chest against Santana's back as they slowly made their way down the aisle. She managed to pick out four or five things she was pretty sure she could eat, and had made her way down several aisles before she saw them. Her body went completely rigid, her features growing slack and pale with shock, and she stopped moving, forcing Brittany's feet to accidentally step on her heels. She couldn't make herself speak to explain; she could hardly form any thoughts at all as her body and mind flooded with near panic. But there was no escaping, no way to pretend she had not seen them, nor could the people in her view pretend Santana wasn't clearly visible to them as well. After all, they had both turned into the same aisle at the same time from opposite directions, and Santana was looking them directly in the eye.

It was her parents. Her parents, Maribel and Carlos Lopez, side by side with their shopping cart before them. Maribel held the cart's handles, Carlos a few steps behind and just glancing up from the phone in his hand when Santana set eyes on him. That was bad enough, would have been awkward and strange as it was. But to Maribel's left was Alma Lopez, a written shopping list clutched in her hand…Santana's abuela.

There they were, her family, all together in the way they seldom had been when Santana was growing up, when she still lived with them each day. Her family, whom she had not seen for over two years and had not spoken to in over one. Her family, whom had not asked Santana about her plans for the holiday and had not known or seemingly cared she would be less than five minutes away.

Her family, whom had planned their holiday time with the woman who had not spoken to Santana in over ten years.

As Santana stared, her knuckles growing white on the shopping cart, her body beginning a slow tremor against Brittany's chest, she couldn't speak, and none of the other three Lopezes rushed to break the silence.

When Brittany woke up to slants of sunlight falling across the bed the next morning, she would've jolted up in shock and surprise if she hadn't immediately felt the weight of Santana's body against her and the weight of her head on her collarbone. Santana stirred, both of them slow to come out of the deep sleep they'd just been in, Brittany a little shocked that it was already morning and she hadn't woken up the night before, meaning Santana hadn't woken up the night before. Santana's body was heavy and warm against her, relaxed and languid without an ounce of tension in her muscles, so different from her usual state of being, especially in the mornings. Santana was known to be extra clingy and upset in the morning, preparing herself for a day of class or just having to separate from Brittany. Brittany had made the effort to give them extra time to lay together in the morning to let Santana soak in the time and physical contact, but on this particular morning, she looked well rested.

Rolling onto her side, she buried her face in Santana's hair, pulling her body against her. "G'morning," She mumbled, taking a few moments to fully wake up. "Did you have a nightmare last night?" Brittany wondered, as if somehow Santana had woken up without waking Brittany with her. She knew it was far from likely, but she wanted to check, making sure nothing had disrupted Santana from sleep last night.

She smiled when Santana confirmed that she didn't, brushing her dark hair off her sleeping face lovingly. "Guess we should get tipsy every night," She teased, but hugged Santana too her, reveling in the fact that Santana had been able to sleep soundly for the first time in forever, overjoyed for her.

They padded downstairs together, greeting her already-awake parents in the kitchen along with the smell of coffee and sausage and eggs cooking. "Ooh," Brittany cooed when her mother fixed her a plate on the counter and set out coffee cups for them before greeting each of them with a hug. Brittany had forgotten what it was like to receive a hug from her mother each time she left and entered the room, reveling in the warmth of the woman who raised her.

When Katherine moved to hug Santana good morning, Brittany reached up to get a bowl out of the cabinet to fix Santana's cereal, quietly appreciative that Katherine hadn't made a plate for Santana too, knowing it would make her feel like she had to eat it. "You can have some of my egg if you want," Brittany said when her parents vanished, setting up her plate and Santana's bowl beside each other at the table again.

Already, it felt like they were immersed into a routine, going through showering and getting ready easily and comfortably. She only detected a hint of anxiety from Santana on the way to the store, rubbing her legging soothingly as they drove. Brittany didn't even care if Santana picked out anything for herself, just walking around a grocery store gathering things for Katherine was enough. Inside, she put Santana between her and the cart, creating a little safe space for her, knowing the knowledge that no one could bump her or come up to her was comforting to her. They shuffled slowly through the aisles, Brittany occasionally telling Santana what to pick out for her mom, reading off a list on her phone and giving Santana's waist a little squeeze whenever she saw Santana pick out something for herself.

They were doing good, having fun almost, Brittany sometimes reading fake items or instructions off her mom's list to make Santana laugh. "She says we need exactly 37 grapes," Brittany deadpanned, keeping her face straight before dissolving into a fit of giggles, before instructing. "We need whipped cream, but you have to stand on one foot with you get it, she says." It was a little game they played as they went, and Brittany was still giggling at her latest instruction when Santana froze, tripping her.

She stepped on the heel of Santana's sneaker, catching herself on Santana's shoulder. "Sorry Babe I- what?" She asked, looking sideways at Santana from where she stood behind her, Santana's body frozen and unmoving.

Brittany first glanced to the shelves - was there a food that piqued Santana's anxiety? All she saw were cracker boxes, so she looked up, ahead of them in aisle, automatically doing a scan for any men that seemed tall or threatening or were wearing hats.

She didn't see any, but she did see Santana's father, the only man in the aisle, following behind her mother and, to the side, her grandmother. Brittany blinked, so taken aback by the trio in front of them that she thought for a moment they weren't real. But they were- they were in Lima, after all. Seeing Santana's parents at the grocery store shouldn't have been a shock in the small town, but Brittany had seen them so frequently in her life that imagining running into them was almost laughable. She'd only ever seen them at Santana's house, and hardly even there. It felt like they existed in another world, but there they stood in the very same grocery store aisle.

Brittany's heart began to thud in the same moment she could feel Santana's body tremble, the five of them staring wide eyed at each other, the silence in the busy store somehow deafening. What were they supposed to do? She couldn't even say anything to Santana, knowing they would easily hear it, not wanting to give them an opportunity to judge them. Automatically, her stomach started to knot, suddenly horribly afraid of how this would go, wanting desperately to take Santana in her arms and run far away from there.

Protectively, she stepped out from behind Santana, her hand protectively on Santana's back, close enough that their sides touch. She took half a step forward from where she stood beside her, as if being a few inches in front of her would shield her from any danger. She wanted to look at her, to steady her with a glance, but her eyes remained forward, trained on the Lopez family as the trio of adults fixed their gazes on them. With the hand that was on Santana's back, hidden from their view, she rubbed up a few inches and back down, the most miniscule of movements, the smallest of comforts that she hoped would be enough.

Santana was trembling, but trying hard to hide it by locking her knees and hanging onto the shopping cart until her knuckles whitened with her grip. She couldn't tear her eyes away from her parents and her abuela, who seemed equally unable to stop looking with awkward discomfort towards her and Brittany. Her thoughts froze along with her body, stilted and unable to fully complete enough to drive her into decisive action. She wanted to run, to hide, to keep walking and pretend not to see or better yet, to pretend she saw and simply couldn't be bothered to acknowledge. And yet she also wanted to say dozens of conflicting things, to force them to acknowledge her and address her, to answer to the many questions she had about just why they made the choices they did when it came to how they treated- and didn't treat- her.

She tried to think of what to do, what to say, as her mouth went dry and her throat closed over, making any words near impossible. She barely felt Brittany's hand on her back, barely saw her take a step in front of her out her peripheral view.

After what felt like an eternity to Santana, in which time seemed not only to stop but to actually move backwards, Maribel Lopez made an odd, startled noise somewhere between surprise and greeting, giving her daughter and Brittany a smile and quick nod that Santana recognized as forced rather than genuine even after years of not seeing her.

"Santana! And Brittany," she said, and Santana noted that she neither stepped closer to them nor made a gesture as though to invite them closer. "This is certainly unexpected to see you here in town, you didn't tell us you would be visiting for the holiday."

She hadn't asked Santana, nor had she issued an invitation. But Santana could not bring herself to respond. She remained motionless, barely breathing, her heartbeat thudding hard and fast in her chest as her mother continued speaking awkwardly.

"I didn't realize you would have the time to take off from touring, Brittany, but then I'm sure it's lovely to be able to come see your family. You must be seeing all sorts of amazing sights, going around the world as you have been, I'm sure it's been quite the experience. I suppose you and Santana are staying with your parents?"

She didn't ask Santana why she hadn't called them, nor did she move to touch or embrace her. She remained far closer to her husband and mother in law than her daughter, whom she had not seen in over two years, and Santana didn't fail to notice this. She didn't ask Santana about school or work or anything about her life- and Santana realized with a mental jolt that as far as Maribel was concerned, nothing in her life had majorly changed. The last time she had spoken to Santana, she and Brittany were still together, Brittany was still on tour, and Santana's life was uneventful.

Her mother knew nothing about her. What's more, she didn't seem to care to ask.

Her father said even less, simply greeting Santana with a stiff nod and "Hello, mija," in her direction. Brittany warranted even less, with merely a nod, minus a greeting by name verbally. He too made no movement towards them.

But her abuela was the worst. She didn't just look at them as though she wished she could do away with the situation, or even as though she wished they weren't there. She outright glared, her eyes narrowed to near slits, her mouth thinned with distaste as she took in Brittany's closeness to Santana. She shook her head tightly, her words emerging with heavy disgust.

"So you still are living a life of sin, Santana, and clearly, it is not in agreement with you. You look like death warmed over, a walking stick figure," she entoned. "What, you can't afford to eat in that big fancy city of yours? Or is it that gay disease? You're wasting away, does that not tell you something about how you're leading your life?"

"Alma!" Maribel hissed, sucking in her breath, even as her eyes skipped away from her daughter, as though not wanting to see and have to acknowledge the harsh truth to the older woman's words. "Stop that, Santana looks just fine."

It was that, even more than her abuela's ugly words, that hit Santana like a punch to the solar plexus. Her abuela had long ago made clear to her how she felt about her sexual orientation, and she had always been a hard woman, sparing in her approval even from the time Santana was a young child. Her words hurt badly, but they were not beyond what she might have expected. But her father, standing there saying nothing- her father, a doctor, who should immediately recognize and understand the significance of her weight loss...and her mother, to not only say nothing about it, but to actually be willing to lie that it didn't exist, or worse, truly believe it.

Her family refused to see her. Her family refused to accept her or want her. And there was nothing she could do to change it.

"Well, I'm sure you girls have a lot planned with Brittany's family, I'm sure she has limited time off from her tour for visiting," Maribel attempted to smooth over with no little unease. "It was good to see you, Santana, Brittany."

She began to wheel the shopping cart forward, with Carlos following close to her, Alma at their heels. None of the three made an effort to touch or speak to Santana again. There was no invitation for her to come over, no questions or apologies, no expressions of concern or love. Nothing.

Even after they had turned the corner and were out of sight, Santana couldn't move. Her heart seemed to be beating more and more loudly, her pulse rushing until she felt it throb at her temples, and her body's trembling intensified until only her hands on the cart, her locked knees, and Brittany's hand on her back kept her from falling.

Brittany could feel Santana trembling against her hand, desperately willing her to say calm as they stared at each other, waiting for someone to break the oppressive, suffocating silence. When Santana's mother made a noise, Brittany felt, in a twisted way, almost relived, swallowing the lump in her throat, her body as taut as Santana's, so unsure of what the Lopez family would say. She silently cringed when Maribel casually mentioned the fact that Santana hadn't told them they were coming home, remember her conversation from a few weeks ago when Santana had chosen not to reach out to them, not that they'd made any attempt to connect with their daughter.

It took her a second to register that Maribel was speaking to her, about tour and her job, instead of, she realized, asking Santana how school was going. After a splitting moment of confusion, she realized Maribel had no idea she'd left tour, of course she wouldn't, and she forced herself to nod, catching herself right before she opened her mouth to clarify that she wasn't on tour anymore. She didn't know if Maribel would ask why, but Brittany didn't want to answer the question if she did. Instead, she cleared her throat and confirmed somewhat weakly, "We are, we uh- we got home yesterday." She choked out.

Maribel, thankfully, didn't continue speaking, but what came after was almost worse. The word mija nearly caused Brittany's own knees to buckle, a word so dear and tender, spoken from someone who was so far removed from Santana's own life. She felt her own eyes prickle at the simple greeting, forcing herself to give Mr. Lopez a respectful nod when he silently looked to her. As Santana's parents greeted them, Brittany had felt her Abuela's glare on them the entire time, forcing herself not to look until she spoke, praying that whatever it was would be brief.

It wasn't, of course. Brittany gasped sharply at her cruel, cutting words, she could practically see them being etched into Santana's heart forever. Much like she'd never forgotten what her Abuela had said to her the night she confessed her sexuality, Brittany knew that Santana would never, ever, forget the words she was saying as they stood in the aisle of the supermarket. It was awful to hear and watch, and Brittany wanted desperately to speak, to defend Santana, to rebuke everything the older woman had just said, but she didn't - knowing that whatever she said would only make it worse, would possibly turn the situation into a full confrontation in the aisle. As heart wrenching as it was, she kept silent, for Santana's own sake, not sure what else her Abuela was capable of saying.

Somewhere along the line, Brittany's hand on Santana's back had turned into a fist, gripping the material of her coat as if she alone was responsible for holding Santana up, as if she would crumble from the words if Brittany let her go. When Maribel began to wheel the cart forward, Brittany stayed perfect still, nodding politely out of obligation when she said it was good to see them, trying to ignore the tears gathering on her lower lash line. She stayed frozen, looking ahead, until she gathered up the courage to glance behind her, confirming that the Lopez family had disappeared around the corner.

The second they were alone in the aisle, Brittany snapped into movement, as if a spell had been broken. "Let's go." She said, curling her hand around Santana's fingers and prying them off the cart handle. "Come on, my mom can come back for this, let's go, Santana, now." Her words were rushed and fast, desperate to get them out of the situation, knowing they were both moments away from shattering, like a dynamite ticking down to explosion.

But despite Brittany's hands around her own, despite her rapid, urgent words for them to go, Santana still can't force her brain into gear quickly enough for any thought to spread to her limbs. A strained, soft noise escapes her throat, close to a whimper, threatening to become a full out wail, and her fingers grasp around Brittany's, clinging. The pressure in her chest and throat has built to the point of her feeling close to choking, and her eyes are already burning, full of tears perilously close to bursting forth. She feels decades younger, like a small, helpless child rather than the woman she is, and it is with those childlike feelings and unclear thoughts she is responding.

Her eyes go to Brittany's, bright and brimming with anguish, silently begging her to understand and help. The last thing she wants or needs is to have a public meltdown in the earshot of all the smalltown eyes and ears of Lima- within earshot, possibly, of the family that had just cut her off.

Brittany can practically see Santana shutting down right there in the middle of the store, her eyes wide and panicked, rolling and terrified. It felt like they were a ticking time bomb on the brink of an explosion, and Brittany glanced left and right, silently making sure no one was about to enter the aisle. The very last thing she needed was a male turning into their aisle at the same time that Santana was growing increasingly upset, and she knew with the low grocery store aisles, if Santana grew audibly upset, someone was sure to hear and check on what was happening - or worse, her family would hear her. Would they even recognize the cries of their own daughter?.

She felt her stomach roll at the question, but pushed it out of her mind, hyper-focused on getting Santana to move. "I know, I know," She said, her voice low and quick, grabbing onto the front of Santana's jacket with her free hand. "We just have to get to the car, Santana, come on. Don't get upset right now."

Brittany knew that if she so much as wrapped her arms around Santana she'd crack into a million pieces, demanding her in a gentle voice to hold it together until they were out of the store. "Walk with me to the car and then it will be just us. That's all we have to do."

She knew Santana was spiraling, unable to focus or figure out how to regulate how upset she was, and so Brittany stripped down their situation to one simple task - get to the car. She said nothing about anything that would happen after or what would happen once they got there, needing Santana to focus on that one thing.

"Come on, I'm right here. We're going to walk down the aisle, and then the door will be right there, and then our car is right there in the parking lot." She was standing so close to Santana there was hardly any space between their winter coats, willing, begging her to move before someone discovered them there.

Santana manages with great difficulty to swallow around the still huge lump in her throat, though her breathing is still uneven and picking up speed. She briefly focuses on Brittany's face close to hers, intent on making her hear and understand what she was asking of her.

Don't get upset. Walk. Walk to the car. Walk. Don't get upset. Walk.

With Brittany's hands grasping her coat, Santana's legs begin to move, slow and stumbling, almost like a sleepwalker. She doesn't reach for Brittany's hand; she doesn't think she can tolerate feeling the other woman touching her skin without dissolving. She staggers with Brittany, her vision a dizzying blur, and almost trips through the store's entrance as the doors automatically open for them. She doesn't remember where Brittany has parked or even what her car looks like in the moment and needs her to help her get inside, unlocking the door, guiding her in by the arm, and shutting it after her.

Before Brittany has even come around to the driver's side of the car to join her, Santana breaks, as though the shutting of the car door behind her finally gave her permission to unleash every tightly wound emotion she had barely managed to keep in. She sobbed with the gut wrenching, wailing crying of someone far younger than her age, like a young child newly orphaned. That was how she felt- like she had just received notice of her own death to her family in their view. Hands knotted into fists against her thighs, she let the storm take over her, not able to speak through it.

Brittany felt like they were teetering on a ledge, holding their breath as if the smallest gust of wind could send them over the edge. If Santana's knees buckled right there, if she started gasping and wailing right there, what could Brittany do? Drag her out? She was sure it would cause a scene, sure one of the employees would notice or intervene. The entire time, she was keenly aware of the fact that the Lopez family was still in the store and they needed to get out of that situation as soon as possible.

Finally, Santana stumbled forward, making Brittany sigh in sharp relief, one hand gripping her coat and the other coming to wrap around her upper arm as she tried her best to steady her and also move her as quickly as possible toward the exit, holding tight to her jacket when she stumbled over the automatic doors. Even though everyone else was shopping an undisturbed by them, it felt like everyone was staring at them, like all eyes in the entire store were focused on the two of them as they staggered toward the exit.

The cold air that whipped against their faces when they broke out of the store felt almost good against Brittany's skin, suddenly feeling like she could breathe in the expanse of outside instead of in that cramped supermarket with the three people she hated most in the world in that very moment. She sucked in a deep breath, half-carrying Santana across the parking lot with newfound determination.

"Come on, we're almost there, let's go home," She said, taking the hand off her arm to dig into her own pocket and get the keys, leading Santana to the passenger door and pulling it open, guiding Santana to sit with one hand on the top of her head so she didn't hit it getting into the car, seemingly moving only at Brittany's will. Once she was seated, Brittany backed out of the passenger side slowly, setting Santana's grasping hands in her lap. "I'll be right there," She soothed, "I'm right here." Brittany backed away slowly, shutting the door before moving around to the drivers side.

When she pulled the door open, she was instantly met with the sound of Santana's painful wails, borderline screams, broken and childlike, completely raw and unregulated. Clambering in the drivers side and slamming the door behind her, collapsing into the driver seat. She felt sick with disgust for the Lopez family, like their words had seeped through her skin and poisoned her.

She only waited a moment before reaching over the center console, grabbing for Santana and pulling her unresisting body across into her own lap, suddenly desperate to hold her, to have her in her arms after she'd just had to watch her be so hurt in front of her own eyes.

"I know, I know," She soothed, her voice wobbling, wrapping her arms in a vicelike grip around her. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry, I love you, I'm so sorry," Brittany was babbling, her forehead pressed against Santana's temple, her hand pressed to the flat of her cheek.

Santana's body was limp, almost melted back against the seat even before Brittany reached for her. She couldn't have resisted the other woman pulling her into her if she had wanted to; she has lost full control of herself, from body to voice to emotions. Wrapped in Brittany's arms, she shook and choked with her cries, her hair quickly slicked against her cheeks and neck. She is rocking slightly without realizing it in Brittany's lap in erratic lack of rhythm, her nose running, but she has no ability to even consider what she looks or sounds like, let alone to care.

She only faintly hears Brittany trying to comfort her, telling her that she loves her, that she's sorry. It doesn't really matter what Brittany does or says now; no matter how true it might be, it can't take away the intensity of her pain. She had not understood until she stood standing across from her family in the store, hearing her mother's meaningless chatter and her father's lack of words and her abuela's vitriol, just how much a small part of her held onto hope that one day, somehow, things would be different. One day, they would realize that they wanted things to be different. They would realize how much they missed her- how much they had missed out on with her- and they would seek her out. At the very least, they would seize opportunity of a surprise encounter.

But they hadn't. They never would. This was very likely the last time Santana would ever see or hear from her family again, and she hadn't even been able to bring herself to say a word.

"I-I-" she gasped, not even sure of what she was wanting or trying to say, struggling for breath. "I-"

All she could think of was how badly this hurt. But they weren't words that seemed capable of being formed.

It took Brittany a moment to realize that she too was trembling in the aftermath of the encounter, unable to stop the fear and pain that flowed through her body like sharp, cutting ice. Naively, she'd never even considered running into the Lopez family. It seemed silly to think of them grocery shopping, of doing daily tasks. She saw so few of them in her life that actually running into them by chance had seemed impossible.

And she was helpless. She was so, so helpless in the situation. Regardless of what she could've done, those were Santana's family, and their words were even more powerful than Brittany's. Even as much as Santana might not admit it, they were her family, and their words would always carry meaning for her, especially her Abuela, who Brittany knew that Santana had never really let go of. There were parts of Santana that were stronger than Brittany had ever seen, but there were also parts of her that were still whole and childlike, wonderous and hopeful even though she'd been hurt so many times. It was those parts of Santana that were most vulnerable when it came to her parents, and similarly, those parts of Santana that Brittany most wished she could protect.

She could feel Santana rocking against her body, completely submitting to her emotions, as raw and broken as Brittany possibly had ever seen her. She'd known, without really having to ask, that Santana still loved her parents. It was a quality in her that Brittany knew had always been there, despite everything that had happened in her life. Her parents were so detached, so unfazed by their daughter, it almost made Santana more inclined to try and please them, to earn their love when she was entirely lovable in her own right.

"Shhhhhh, it's okay, it's okay," Brittany soothed, wanting to stop Santana from trying to speak. She held her as close as she possibly good, knowing that nearly nothing she would do could help how upset Santana was, that her hurt ran so deep into a place that not even Brittany could touch, not even she could smooth over wounds like this. "I know, Babe. I'm so sorry." She hushed, her shaking hand clumsily pushing Santana's hair off her sticky face, Santana's eyes swollen and puffy, "You're safe now," She said, as if the grocery store had put her in danger. "You're safe." Brittany felt her own throat thick with emotion as she spoke, wanting so badly to cry for Santana, but steeling herself against her tears, knowing it would only make Santana more upset.

Santana can feel Brittany shaking too against her and knows, in spite of her own anguish, that Brittany too must be upset. Alma had leveled the same glares in her direction that she had Santana and was including her in the generalization of Santana's "life of sin." Part of her is able to register this dimly and hate that her family would dare say anything against Brittany, that they would hurt her, but mostly, she is still struggling through every moment of her own emotion.

As Brittany held her, stroking back her hair, murmuring reassuring words Santana couldn't take in entirely, Santana's guttural cries finally softened somewhat, mostly because she started coughing too hard to be able to continue crying so harshly, and she was beginning to gasp for breath. She tried to regain control of her breathing enough not to panic as flutters of anxiety arose in her chest, pressing her damp face into Brittany's neck and mumbling shaken words into her skin that are likely not fully intelligible.

"Th-th-they didn't e-even want to talk to m-me. Th-they d-d-didn't even want to s-see me. They...they were, th-they were w-with Abuela, th-they want to see her and n-not me. Th-they they didn't even ask m-me, they don't...they don't care. N-not about me, n-not about what, what sh-she says. They never care!"

She stops talking, crying steadily, more quietly and tiredly now, but every bit as hurt.

Brittany was focusing on little else other than holding Santana as tightly as she possibly could, overcome with the need to protect her, pained with the realization that another thing had happened that she had failed to protect Santana from. She knew there was, in that situation, nothing she could've done- she would've never spoken up and offended Santana's family, no matter how cruel they were, out of respect for Santana if nothing else. She also realized, sitting there with Santana sobbing in her lap, that she too had held out hope that one day Santana's family may come around. She'd never say anything out of hopes that one day, Santana's family would be interested in her life, would love their daughter in a way she deserved to be loved by her parents. Now, it seemed stupid to be so hopeful.

She tucked her head down where Santana had pressed her face against her neck, gathering Santana's hair away from her face and neck. "Shhhh, I know. It was awful, Santana." She admitted, because she knew there was nothing she could truly say that would ease the pain of her grandmother's words, that would fill the void of her parents indifference. It was so much worse than anything Brittany could've ever imagined, and she didn't want to think of the ways in which the venomous words would affect Santana.

Reaching past Santana, she pushed the key into the ignition and turned it, the car humming to life beneath them, the heat coming on so they weren't sitting in a freezing grocery store parking lot car anymore. "I love you, and I'm going to take you home." She whispered soothingly. Gently, she tried to peel Santana from her body, setting her back in her seat, quick to soothe her whines of protect. "It's okay, it's okay," She soothed, lacing her hand with Santana's, "I'm right here, I just need to get us home so I can hold you there."

Brittany cupped Santana's cheek in her hand briefly, letting her thumb skate under her eye to collect the still flowing tears. "I'm right here, San." She promised again before gently taking her hand away, shifting the car slowly from park to drive. Brittany barely felt like she could drive, still shocked and upset by what had happened, but she knew she needed to get Santana home to fully calm her.

Santana gave another soft, broken sob at Brittany's acknowledgment about how terrible the scene had been, her understanding of how badly she was hurting because of it. She clung onto her, sniffling, trying to breathe, her thoughts beginning to slow down a little more.

She didn't realize she was cold until Brittany turned the car on and the heat roared to life, vaguely soothing against Santana's hunched back. When Brittany carefully eased her back to her side of the car, Santana's head came up, and she made a noiseless protest against it, wanting not to be separated from her. She hears Brittany's reassurance that she's there, that she's just bringing her home, and understands the need for this even as she wishes she was still in her lap.

But just as she opens her mouth to further beg her not to take her hand away, to let her get back on her, a new thought occurs to her. Any second now her parents and her abuela might come out of the grocery store, and Santana no longer has any idea what cars they drive. They could be parked across from her or beside her. They could walk up and see her, crying on Brittany's lap, and further cement her humiliation, make things that much worse. And if one of them said something, she couldn't guarantee that Brittany might not snap back.

That was what kept her on her side of the car, letting her head fall against the window, still sniffling frequently as she stared without seeing out the window. She didn't try to wipe away her tears or look for something to blow her nose. She just sat, slumped, sodden, and silent as they drove the length of the trip to Brittany's parents' home.

Santana was surprisingly cooperative about Brittany setting her back in her seat, and she knew, with a pang, that it was because being in public at all was scary for her, let alone being in the parking lot of the supermarket where her family had just turned her down, the supermarket that her family was still very likely inside. Brittany rolled her shoulders, knowing she had to get them home, she had to focus on driving and getting them home and then she could fully take care of Santana. As she navigated the familiar streets, she stole glances over at Santana, who was nearly catatonic, collapsed against the passenger window, her tears and nose running freely, her eyes bloodshot, swollen almost to slits. It broke Brittany's heart to see her like this, and fleetingly, she almost wished Rachel and Kurt could witness it, to help them realize that Santana was human after all, more vulnerable than they'd ever known.

Pulling into her driveway, Brittany cut the engine and opened her door at the same time, promising - "I'll be right there, Babe," Before slipping out of the drivers side and jogging around to Santana's side, opening the door with care, knowing Santana had been leaning on it. Reaching in, she wrapped her arms around Santana's body, letting them pause there in the driveway for a moment, holding Santana, leaning into the car against her. "We're going to go inside and go straight upstairs and lay down," Brittany soothed, knowing the best thing for Santana right now was to be wrapped in blankets in Brittany's arms. She straightened up, helping Santana unsteadily down from the car with her arm around her waist, using her free hand to unlock the door.

"Girls? Hi! How was the -" Brittany flinched at the sound of her mother's floaty, cheery voice, glancing up to see her frozen in the hallway, mouth slightly open, taking in both Santana and Brittany's states like a parent would check their child for cuts after falling off a bike. "Brittany?" Her mother asked, taking a step closer.

"I'll explain later," Brittany replied, focused on Santana. She stood her in front of her, unzipping her coat for her and pushing it off her limp shoulders. "We're going to lay down," She announced, meeting her mother's eyes, silently having a mother-daughter conversation.

Still slightly dazed, Katherine nodded, moving to take Santana and Brittany's coats out of her arms, ushering them toward the stairs with her hand on Santana's back. "Go upstairs, girls," Katherine soothed softly, as if it had been her idea.

Grateful that her mother seemed to accept Brittany's lack of an answer for the time being, she led Santana up the stairs, sealing them in her bedroom with a relieved sigh. They were finally out of the car, no longer in public, away from her parents. "Come on," She soothed, sitting Santana on the bed and getting her pajamas out. It was the middle of the day, but all Brittany could think to do was dress them in warm clothes and snuggle Santana in safety and protection.

Santana staggered with Brittany out of the car and up the driveway, her body heavily leaned into Brittany, her arms limp against her side, not really embracing her back or supporting herself. She has mostly stopped crying but occasional tears do still slip free, and she has to keep her mouth open slightly to better be able to breathe through her stuffy nose. She barely sees anything in front of her and needs Brittany to help her get inside the door.

Once in the house, she remains motionless, not responding to Katherine's voice or gentle touch on her back after Brittany addresses her. She let herself be helped out of her clothes and upstairs to Brittany's room, sitting numbly and without speaking on the bed when encouraged to. As Brittany got her pajamas out for her, Santana took them but just held them, as though uncertain how to dress or undress herself. Distantly she's aware she must be in shock.

As Brittany sat Santana gently on the edge of her bed she reached for the hem of her shirt to pull it over her head, swift to replace it with her pajama top. She did the same with Santana's jeans, undoing the button and zipping before having Santana stand to push them down over her hips, careful as she guided each of her legs into her pajama bottoms, pulling them up before she discarded her own clothes quickly, slipping her pajamas on before taking Santana by the arm, guiding her to the adjacent bathroom, wetting a damn washcloth and gently wiping Santana's nose and cheeks despite the fact that she was still steadily crying. It was something her mother had always done to calm her, and Brittany could still remember being upset and feeling the refreshing coolness of the washcloth against her skin.

"Let's lay down, okay?" She asked, knowing she was just guiding Santana around at that point. She blotted at her face with a dry towel, leading her from the bathroom and to the bed gently, always keeping a hand on her to physically guide her. Leaning against the pillows, she pulled Santana with her, settling her against her with a sad sigh, her hand slipping up the bottom of her pajama top to rub her bare back lovingly.

She knew Santana was in the safest possible place and that while Brittany had just dressed her in pajamas and washed her face, those caring actions did nothing to combat the pain of the day's encounter, did nothing to quell the raging storm that she knew was still crashing around inside Santana. It made her heart squeeze painfully, and she let a tumble of caring words out.

"What happened was terrible Santana, I'm so sorry they said that. I love you, I love you, I love you," She whispered in Santana's ear, as if saying enough comforting things would really make them true, as if she could possibly rewrite the events of that day.

Santana let Brittany guide her about, manipulating her arms and legs to help her dress and undress herself. As Brittany gently helps her into the bathroom, cleaning her face, Santana catches sight briefly of her face in the mirror. She looks devastated, her face wretched and ravaged, red in some places and pale in others. She looks ugly to herself, enough for her to briefly wonder if the ugliness she sees in her features then is somehow what her family always sees when they look at her. Can they somehow see ugliness in her heart?

She squeezed her eyes shut with a shuddering sigh, feeling more tears streaking down her cheeks, and grasps for Brittany's hand, squeezing hard. She doesn't know how Brittany can still look at her and touch her with so much love and comfort in each gesture, when her own family can barely stand to look at her for more than a moment. What can Brittany possibly see that still makes her regard her with affection?

As Brittany helped her lie down, wrapping her in blankets and her own arms, Santana closed her eyes again, an occasional sob breaking forth, but mostly quiet for several minutes as Brittany rubbed her back, whispering to her how much she loved her. She let Brittany's words wash over her, just barely beginning to touch the overwhelming pain in her heart, but eventually she whispers back unsteadily.

"I don't think they do. Love me. Why do you, when they don't?"

Brittany kept her close and cradled against her, wishing she could hold her there forever in the safety of her bedroom, warm and loved and far from the outside world that always seemed to be hurting Santana in one way or another. There, it was only her, free to love Santana and convince her how amazing she was without anyone else saying differently. She wondered, briefly, how Santana would blossom, how happy and confident she'd be if there wasn't anyone to convince her that she was anything other than perfect, to rewrite the script in Santana's own mind.

"I don't know," Brittany answered honestly, her own voice sad, still reeling from what had just happened. In a way, it didn't feel real, as though they could wake up in the morning and this would fade away like the faint lingerings of a dream. "I don't know because I've always loved you. You've always been perfect to me," She confessed honestly. "I don't understand how anyone could see you other than the best thing in the world." Brittany whispered, because it was true. She couldn't put herself in their shoes, couldn't imagine looking at Santana, or anyone, with such disdain. Brittany had never known a world without loving Santana.

In a way, Brittany hated Santana's parents. Her Abuela was old and cruel, but Santana wasn't her daughter. It was Santana's parents job to bring her up and protect her from the harshness of the world and love her and help her through life and they'd failed miserably. She couldn't wrap her head around Maribel's indifference to her own child, her only daughter, starting so young.

"It's not your fault that those are who you were born to, Santana," She said softly, knowing Santana, deep down, blamed herself for their indifference and lack of love. "They're you're parents, but they never gave you anything your parents should give you," Brittany pointed out softly, speaking the difficult truth. She thought back to everything Santana had said in therapy, the term emotional neglect spinning through her mind.

Santana heard the honesty and the grief for her in Brittany's voice, and it was soothing in and of itself, a validation that her feelings were right and deserving. She burrowed herself in more closely against her, winding her arms tight around Brittany's waist, and took a shuddering breath, hearing Brittany continue to voice her love, to voice to her that she thinks she's perfect, and offers up a faint protest in a small voice.

"But you know I'm not perfect. You know I'm not the best. I've done a lot of things that were really stupid, or mean, or just selfish, and that's...maybe that's why," she attempted to reason to herself, needing to have a concrete reason she can point to, that perhaps she can have control of and make sense of. "Maybe if I wasn't so...if I was different. If I wasn't a tomboy, when I was little, or if I didn't throw so many fits, or...maybe if I was nicer to people, or just..."

Her voice cracked, and she squeezed Brittany harder, fresh tears streaming. "Maybe if I wasn't gay. Do you think that's why? Do you think Mami and Papi knew, even before I did? Maybe something told them. Papi, he used to get really mad when I would run around without a shirt on, or want boy toys, or play super heroes, or ask for my hair to be short. He didn't even see me do it, but Abuela would be mad and she would tell him, and when he got home he would fuss at me over it and tell me to be like other girls. And Mami, she never said anything, but maybe she didn't like it either. They said...they said, when I told them, they said it was okay, but maybe it wasn't. Because they didn't talk about it again. They, they didn't kick me out, they let me stay in the house, but they didn't, they- maybe, maybe it's just because they c-couldn't. Because I wasn't eighteen yet, and they could get in trouble, and if someone knew at work, they...Papi's a doctor, and..."

Her words trailed off, and she snuffled tiredly against Brittany, gulping, her thoughts still circling as she whispered against her shoulder.

"Abuela said before th-that I was a mistake. She said...Papi was careless, he got Mami pregnant, and then, then they c-couldn't get rid of me, because it was a s-sin. And they had to get married, because, because of me. I was...I was conceived in sin, she said, and that's why I can be so wicked. Maybe that's...maybe that's why they don't care. Because, because I was never supposed to be here."

She could still clearly remember the day Alma had told her that. Santana had been nine years old, trying out back talk against her that she had copied off a teenage TV show she had recently watched in an effort to sound cool and mature. It had backfired; she could still feel the sting of the slap across her face, first one side, then the other, until her skin felt alit with pain. Then had come Alma's sharp, pointed words, aimed to wound, and all the more successful because Santana heard and understood their truth.

She had never asked her parents if it was true. She hadn't had to. Even at nine, she had fully believed.

Brittany could feel the way Santana was squeezing her around the waist, as if she'd float away or be dragged under if she let Brittany go. She held her back just as fiercely, her hand steady and warm on Santana's bare back, feeling her chest heave as she cried. Hearing Santana voice her own flaws was something that Brittany was familiar with- she did it often, despite how many times Brittany tried to build her up.

"I don't want you to be perfect," She insisted, understanding why Santana needed to say it out loud, but once against wanting to reassure her that she was perfect and whole in Brittany's eyes. "I want you just like this." She wished she could take away some of the pain in Santana's life, the trauma that she'd suffered, but even after everything, she wanted Santana just like this, in all her sadness and tears, still utterly perfect to Brittany.

She let Santana ramble on, knowing that Santana was trying to find something to latch onto one, one solid reason. She clung to logic, things she could dissect and repeat over and over to herself in the same way she did when she was upset and needed to comfort herself. If Santana could pinpoint one single part of herself that caused her family's behavior, it would mean that maybe, all the other qualities weren't bad, it would mean that maybe they didn't dislike all parts of her, knowing that was Santana's deepest fear. It broke her heart to hear her cycle through all the potential reasons - Santana could find negative aspects about herself that Brittany had never even considered and thought of, and she wondered, if she compared how she thought of Santana to the way Santana thought of herself, how different those images would be.

"Shhhhh, Santana, I don't think it's any of those reasons." Brittany promised when Santana trailed off, sniffling weepily against her shoulder. "They didn't know you were gay when you were younger, you were just a child." Brittany pointed out softly. "Having short hair and playing with boy toys doesn't mean your parents knew you were gay," She reasoned, knowing Santana needed to hear her explain it out loud. "I don't think it has anything to do with you at all."

Brittany didn't said it, but she also suspected that if her parents weren't okay with her being gay, they would've had no problem vocalizing that to her.

She let them trail off into a brief silence before Santana spoke again, her voice trembling, recounting what her Abuela had told her for the first time. Brittany's eyes fluttered shut at the confession, a mistake. Her perfect, precious Santana being told she was a mistake. The thought made Brittany's throat close, and she took a moment after Santana stopped speaking to answer.

"You were not a mistake, Santana." She said softly. "Maybe your parents didn't plan on having you, but you're the furthest thing from a mistake." She promised, squeezing her even closer to her. "The fact that you weren't planned doesn't mean your parents had a right to did what they did to you." Brittany swore. "You're their baby. My parents didn't even want kids or think they'd have a family." She explained.

Her parents had told her that, in vastly different circumstances than Santana's Abuela had explained it to her, and Brittany so passionately wished Brittany had experienced it the way she and Hailey had- being told that, while Katherine and Thomas never pictured a family, once they had Brittany she made them so happy that they wanted to give her a sister or brother.

"You were a baby. It's not your fault you were born." She pointed out, Santana suddenly seeming so young and vulnerable in her arms, even though they were the same age. "You're not wicked," She added quietly, her hand picking up its rhythm of rubbing her back again. "I wish I had answers for you, but I know it has nothing to do with you. You are perfect, and you are mine and what they said was horrible and wrong and I don't believe any of it."

Santana's breathing slowed slightly as she listened to Brittany's promises, beginning to come closer to matching the rhythm of Brittany's stroking hand on her back. She tries to take in her words and believe them, hearing the passionate insistence behind them and knowing Brittany is certain of their truth. Brittany never lies to her. Brittany does not believe she was a mistake, or wrong, or shouldn't exist. Brittany thinks that how her parents have raised her, the way they have kept her so distant, is wrong.

She makes a soft murmur of surprise when Brittany tells her that her parents had not planned to have her. She couldn't imagine that- Katherine and Thomas had always seemed to her the perfect, ideal parents, and it was beyond clear how much they loved and adored Hailey and Brittany, how they accepted them for exactly who they were. To think that at one point, they might not have wanted a baby Brittany, before they actually met her, seemed incredible to her.

Brittany was still talking as Santana's thoughts spiraled, and she tried to cling to her words. Perfect. Mine. Santana was still hers. Brittany wanted her. Brittany didn't believe there was anything wrong with her. Brittany didn't htink she was a mistake.

Her body gave a strong shiver, then went heavy and limp, as Santana drew in and released a deep breath, finally able to draw enough air in to do so. She let herself fall fully into Brittany's embrace, her grasp loosening, and whispered against her, her eyes half shut, heavy lidded and gritty.

"I'm so tired. We just got up but I'm already so tired."

Brittany let Santana sit with her words for a moment, knowing each one of them challenged what Santana believed to be true, knowing she was rolling the words around in her mind and clinging to them, never considering that maybe she was perfect and that her entire identity wasn't a mistake at all, that her habits as a child weren't enough to justify her Abuela's hatred and parents overall lack of concern. She rubbed her back steadily, letting Santana think for a moment, letting her calm after her outburst and moment of panic after confessing that she wasn't planned.

She hummed when Santana took a deep breath, feeling her body relax fully against Brittany's, grateful she was finally calm after the storm of that morning, after the awful confrontation and the feelings that followed. She knew it wasn't the last of Santana's tears about the situation and that her family's words had a way of sticking, but all she could do in that moment was be thankful that Santana had found peace, no matter how brief it was.

"Shhhh, why don't you try to sleep for a little?" She suggested, knowing Santana was already dropping off, but knowing she'd fight sleep if Brittany didn't encourage it. "I think you'd feel better if you took a nap and rested your eyes." Brittany added, knowing without looking at Santana's face that her eyes were swollen and bloodshot, her face puffy after shedding so many tears that morning. "I'll nap a little too, and then after we wake up we can go watch a movie or something, or I'm sure my mom has a task for us around the house to help her get ready for Christmas." She teased lightly.

Brittany doubted that she'd be able to sleep, her mind was moving too fast, running through what Santana's family had said and everything Santana had just told her, but she wanted Santana to be reassured that she'd be laying right there the entire time.

Santana's eyes were already repeatedly dropping near shut before she forced them open again, just before Brittany encouraged her to sleep. She hesitated, then let her eyes shut completely, her body relaxing a little more against Brittany. She tries to focus on Brittany's rubbing her back, replaying her soothing words through her mind in an effort to calm her mind enough to sleep.

Brittany didn't think she had done anything wrong. Brittany didn't think that she was anything wrong, or that she was a mistake. Brittany still loved her, even if her family didn't care. Brittany loved her.

She clung onto this, her breathing slowing, and eventually she drifts off into a light doze, snoring faintly with her still stuffy breathing. She isn't in a deep enough sleep to dream.

Brittany held her as she drifted off to sleep, her head lazy and relaxed against her arm, her body heavy with the emotional exhaustion and outburst. She looked so young, Brittany thought, vulnerable and sweet as she slept, tear tracks dried against her cheeks, her face a little puffier than usual from all the crying. She could hear the way congestion still lingered as Santana slept, appreciating that she was at least able to sleep and breathe in deeply.

She snuggled her ever closer, yawning in spite of herself, her body relaxed compared to how tense and rigid she'd been running into Santana's family. Although she wouldn't have necessarily said she was tired, she found herself dozing off a little, lulled by the warmth of her bed and the comforting weight of Santana against her body. She couldn't have slept longer than 30 minutes, drifting in an out of sleep before the quiet creak of her door made her open her eyes.

Katherine had peaked her head in, undoubtedly to check on them since they'd been up there awhile and were so quiet. Brittany didn't move her arms from where they held Santana, but nodded her head, beckoning for her to come in the room. She did, careful as she moved toward the bed, perching on the mattress on Santana's side, her face sorrowful as she took in Santana's state, the way she was limp against Brittany. Gently, Katherine brushed a few strands of hair back from Santana's face as she slept, smoothing it under a loving hand before beginning to rub her back lightly as she spoke with her daughter. "Brittany, what happened to you two?" She asked.

Brittany shook her head, her eyes prickling a little, but unable to hold the truth back from her mother. After gentle prompting, she launched into a whispered explanation of what it had been like to see Santana's parents, everything her family had said. Katherine, of course, was well versed on the topic, having been there in the aftermath of Santana's coming out to her Abuela and the troubles she'd faced in school.

Santana roused slightly when she felt a differing pressure on her back and the slight dip of the mattress as Katherine's weight joined them. As Katherine rubbed her back, she started to open her eyes, squinting up at her and Brittany with some confusion at Katherine having joined them when she was unaware.

"Brittany?" she mumbled somewhat foggily, still half asleep. She tried to lift her head, to sit up a little against Brittany. "How long have you been here?" she murmured towards Katherine.

She feels like she should sit up and try to assemble herself into looking more normal, less disheveled, in front of Katherine, but she's still too tired and feels too drained to move very much.

Brittany explained what had happened in the grocery store to her mother as Santana slept, their voices whisper quiet. She didn't bother hiding any of the exchange, Katherine was well aware of Santana's strained family relationships, and Brittany had already told her that she hadn't had contact with them when she told her parents Santana would be coming home with her for the holidays.

Although she kept her voice at a whisper level, Brittany rambled on about how awful it was. "And then they just walked by us Mom, like she didn't even exist, like we were running into an old teacher or something, not her parents. Her dad didn't even say anything really. And her Mom brought up my tour but didn't even ask about school for her or anything!" She gushed.

Katherine held up her free hand nodding her head, wanting to settle her daughter while Santana still slept between them. "Okay, Britt, we'll figure it out." She assured.

It wasn't long before Santana stirred under Katherine's hand, her face sleepy and confused, disoriented even though she hadn't been asleep for long at all. "Yeah, San." Brittany answered, mostly to let Santana hear her voice. She knew Santana knew she was there, being that she was laying against her, giving her verbal reassurance in her half-asleep state. She looked heartbreaking and somehow exhausted, as if she hadn't slept in days although they'd both slept soundly the night before.

"Just a few minutes, sweetheart," Katherine explained sympathetically. "You keep resting," She added when Santana shifted a little. Keeping her hand on Santana's back, now still, she explained after a moment, "I came in to check on you two and Britany told me what happened at the store."

While Katherine had parented Santana for most of her life and had been very aware of the situation, she'd largely refrained from commenting in front of the girls, aware that they were still young and not wanting to affect Santana's perception or relationship with her own parents.

Now, however, it was clear to Katherine that the situation had escalated, especially when Brittany shared some of the things Santana had said to her. "What happened was awful, dear." Katherine said, shaking her head. "I'm sorry you had to go through that and hear those untrue things." She soothed. "I want to be very clear with you that I don't think any of the treatment has anything to do with you. You've always been lovely to have hear and I can't imagine any reasons your family would have to treat you so poorly."

Santana blinked again, and rather than drifting back into sleep, became more awake at Katherine's words. She gripped Brittany, grasping her with tightening hands as her body tensed, dreading Katherine's response as she explained that she knew what had happened with her family. Katherine was literally the kindest person Santana had ever known, but she still nevertheless hated the remote possibility that she could find a reason for her family's behavior.

But Katherine did not. Instead she spoke soothingly but with conviction, telling Santana that she was lovely to be around, telling her that what she heard was untrue and awful. Telling her that it wasn't her fault.

It was everything she needed to hear from someone older that she respects, from a woman she views as nearly perfect and certainly the perfect mother- as nearly her own adopted mother. Santana's eyes filled and then overflowed, and she took a shaky breath, reaching out one hand for Katherine's.

"My mom and dad barely said anything, they acted like I'm no one," she whispered, her voice cracked. "I know what my abuela said isn't true, but she thinks it is. That's what she thinks about me, and they still talk to her and see her instead of me."

She took a shallow breath, her eyes dropping, and then said very quietly, huddling closer to Brittany, the same secret she had kept shamefully to herself for so long.

"She told me I was a mistake. M-my abuela. They didn't...they don't want me," she said, unconsciously changing to present tense. "That's why. They don't think I should be here."

Brittany patted her side as she clung to her, trying to calm her down, knowing before her mother even spoke that she'd never say anything to upset Santana and that her mother was just as unhappy with the situation as Brittany was. Of course, she was right, and she smiled, kissing the top of Santana's head as she heard her sniffle in response to Katherine's words.

Katherine took the hand Santana offered to her, holding it between both of her own on her lap while Brittany looked on lovingly. She knew Santana was comfortable with her mother, but it still caught her by surprise to see her reach for her, familiar with how unwilling Santana was when it came to touch with anyone that wasn't Brittany, even if it was someone she knew.

"I know dear, I'm sorry you had to experience that so soon after being back." Katherine said sympathetically. "I've been upset about their behavior toward you for a long, long time, Santana, but this just seems cruel."

Katherine shook her head remorsefully, quieting so Santana could continue, shocking Brittany as she uttered the same confession she'd only told Brittany for the very first time just that morning. It struck her, as Santana spoke to her mother, just how important Katherine was to her, and Brittany felt her own throat thicken at the realization at just how present her mother had been in Santana's life and just how much Santana loved her parents. It was a combination of sadness for Santana but also gratitude for her own parents, who had welcomed Santana into their family without a second thought.

Katherine listened intently as Santana spoke, Brittany rubbing her side as she curled even closer to her body while she whispered her teary confession. "Oh sweetheart," Brittany's mother laughed once, briefly, not making fun of Santana's confession, but a wise laugh. "I think as you get older, you'll realize just how many people came into this world as happy surprises." Katherine patted her hand. "I'm sure you're beginning to grasp this now concept now, but life works out according to your plans very, very rarely. New jobs, moving to different states, whatever you want to call it. I'm sure Brittany told you she began our family oh, about -" Katherine paused to think about this, "Eight years sooner than planned?" She shook her head, laughing again. "Turns out she knew I wanted to be a mother years before I did." Katherine said with a wave of her hand, "I assume that's the case for about half the population." She shrugged calmly.

"You seem pretty intentionally made to me," Katherine said, her voice earnest. "You can believe in whatever higher power you'd like, but children are not mistakes, and surely not a child as bright as you," She assured, her voice now soft and gentle. "That's not something your grandmother should've told you, dear, and that's far too heavy a burden to bear. I don't think you ought to blame yourself for your family's actions or their behavior toward you. Parents have a responsibility to their children that you both probably won't understand until you're ever parents yourself, but I think your family's behavior is more reflective of them than you." She hushed.

Santana took a few more breaths, taking in the combined comfort of Brittany and Katherine's touch. With Brittany stroking her side and holding her against her, and with Katherine cradling Santana's hands, both treating her like she was something precious, someone deserving their love, attention, and concern, Santana felt the intensely painful ache that had filled her the moment she set eyes on her parents ease, just a bit

"You're a good mom," she said softly to Katherine, blinking back more tears from coming. "You always do stuff for Brittany and Hailey, and you don't even seem to think about it or mind it. You always do stuff for me. I didn't even know there were really moms like that before I met you. I thought it was just something made up on TV."

This was true, and the first time she had acknowledged it aloud. Santana, as a child, used to watch sitcoms and other kid shows, both wistful and resentful as she watched the loving, bantering interactions of the mothers with their kids. She had been suspicious of Katherine for some time after meeting her, assuming that the niceness must be an act, and it had taken her some time for her to soften her defenses against her.

She closed her eyes, taking another deep breath, and forced herself with trepidation to say the words she had never said yet to Katherine, so quietly it was barely audible, and unable to look at her when she said them. "I love you."

Katherine smiled sadly at her, rubbing the back of her hand gently. "Those aren't things children should have to earn, dear." She explained, referring to Santana's amazement that she always did things for her and her children. "You're part of our family, you were my responsibility just as much as my daughters were." Katherine assured, which was true. She'd taken responsibility for Santana shortly after Brittany had met her, doing everything from making sure Brittany and Santana got their homework done to disciplining them when they tried to sneak out or got caught drinking. "I didn't plan to have Brittany when I was 24 much like I didn't plan to have three daughters but look how that turned out." She smiled, wanting Santana to be assured that the unexpected parts of life were surely not mistakes.

When Santana said the three words, quiet and shy, Brittany beamed, snuggling her body closer to Santana with a squeeze at her waist, in awe of her confession, while Katherine smiled gently at her confession.

"I love you too dear. Like I said, I consider you part of this family." She nodded, holding a hand up, "And, not that I think anything will ever happen to the two of you, but if it should, I want you to know you're always welcome here and can always call Tom or I for anything." She patted Santana's hand again, leaning forward to brush Santana's hair off her face and press a kiss to her forehead, doing the same for Brittany. "Why don't you girls keep resting for a bit. I'll go to the store later, text me if you want anything," She instructed Brittany, rubbing their legs over the blanket before standing up, smiling at the two of them before she left.

Grinning, Brittany pulled Santana even closer to her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "That was sweet, San," She glowed.

Santana hadn't actually considered this before, that she shouldn't have to earn a parent's attention and affection. She had always assumed that the only thing required of her parents was to give her shelter, food, clothes, education, and medical care- in other words, the bare necessity. Although she had of course wanted far more and felt hurt by not often receiving it, part of her had privately always wondered if she had kept them somehow from wanting to give it by her behavior or who she was overall. She had also sometimes wondered if she was being selfish or overly demanding in her emotions by wanting it.

She smiled a little tremulously when Katherine counted her as one of her daughters, then a little more when Katherine returned the words of love she had braved to speak. When Katherine left them, Santana was quiet, turning over her words of reassurance and love, having soaked in each gesture of affection and comfort and stored them away in her heart.

She smiled a little self-consciously again when Brittany hugged and kissed her, flushing. "Well, whatever. I mean, she's kind of my mom too, it's not a big deal."

But it was a big deal. It was a huge deal. The only person Santana had ever directly said to their face that she loved before, other than her mother when she was little enough to still cling Maribel, was Brittany- and her abuela, for the first and last time, just before she disowned her.

It wasn't that Santana didn't love people. Of course she did- she loved every person in the Glee club, no matter how dumb or lame or annoying she found them. She sometimes talked about loving Rachel or Kurt or Quinn, or in a roundabout way referenced having love for them, but never could directly say the words to their faces, in front of them. Speaking of love to someone felt hugely vulnerable, like an enormous risk that could open her to hurt.

But if anyone wasn't going to hurt her, it would be Katherine Pierce. If anything, she had said everything Santana might have needed to hear.

Brittany giggled when Santana brushed it off, knowing she was bashful about it, shaking her head at the adorableness of an embarrassed Santana. "It is a big deal," Brittany promised, always one to promote displays of emotion like that, knowing Santana tried to downplay their significance. She hugged Santana too her, content to soak up a few more moments of calm and warmth together, feeling, in that moment, a million miles away from the grocery store.

"Do you want to try and go back to sleep?" Brittany asked, rubbing her side evenly, "You didn't fall asleep for that long before my mom came in," She reminded. She wasn't surprised that Santana had woken up so easily, still sensitive in her sleep. Santana looked a little better, but she could still see the deep pain and hurt from the day in her eyes, knowing it would take more than a simple conversation with Katherine to mend the wounds that had been ripped fresh open earlier that morning.

Santana snuggled Brittany back, feeling calmer now after her nap and after the support from her and her mother, though not happy. She considered her question, unsure how she felt, and stretched her legs out experimentally. She is still feeling weary, unsure of just how to continue her day now. It feels impossible to get up and pretend everything is fine, but she also feels bad lying in bed when she's a guest at the Pierce house and it's the middle of the day.

"It's early," she murmured to Brittany. "I can't sleep all day." Though she's done that plenty of times in New York in the loft.

Brittany shrugged, her hand rubbing Santana's side rhythmically, her fingers skating and bumping over the ridges of her ribs. "We're on vacation," Brittany reminded her with a giggle, wordlessly reminding Santana that her parents didn't mind at all. "Also, Hailey's probably still asleep," Brittany pointed out, knowing her sister loved to stay up all night on her phone and then snooze half the day away despite Katherine's pestering her to get up. "I think you should do whatever feels good for your body," Brittany added, another gentle reminder for Santana to listen to what her body was telling her. "You've been pretty good at that lately," Brittany observed with a grin.

Santana had gotten better at eating and generally responding to the cues her body was sending her, including when she was upset. Brittany had observed Santana had gotten better at self soothing and actively seeking out physical contact and touch from Brittany when she needed it.

Vacation. It was weird to think of staying at the Pierce house as vacation. To Santana it felt like a second home.

Santana squirmed, ticklish, and pushed half heartedly at Brittany's hand on her ribs. She is relieved privately that they are still prominent enough to be easily felt by Brittany- she hadn't gained "too much" weight despite what she views as eating massive amounts of food recently. She smiles a little at Brittany's observation, knowing she means it as praise, and shrugs.

"I think I want to stay awake," she decided. "I'm tired but not sleepy. Can we stay here a while?"

She's not ready to be out of Brittany's arms quite yet.

Brittany giggled when Santana squirmed away from her, pulling her back toward her to bury her face in her hair, smelling her shampoo, the same one that Brittany used. She sighed delightedly, content to stay in bed with Santana all day, reveling in the safety there after feeling so cold, naked and exposed in the store. Now, here, no one could hurt her, no one could hurt her Santana, it was the ideal place where she could keep Santana safe.

"That sounds like a good idea to me," Brittany agreed, knowing she would've agreed with Santana either way. She wiggled in further in the blankets and the sheets now that they were staying, the room bathed in a cool light from the outside sunlight, the lights off in Brittany's room.

"How do you feel now?" She wondered, knowing Santana's emotions had been a roller coaster that morning, knowing that if she asked, Santana would tell her the honest truth. She looked calm and soft as she lay against her, but Brittany knew there was a war of emotions raging on inside the woman she loved, determined not to let her fight alone.

Santana closed her eyes again as Brittany buried her face in her hair, letting herself enjoy the other woman's affection. She shifted herself as Brittany readjusted, wiggling until her body is draped over Brittany's, lying across her chest. Tucking her head under Brittany's chin, she takes her time to answer honestly.

"I'm sad," she admitted quietly. "I love you and your mom and you're both awesome, but I still am. And...hurt."

She says the last word as though it's somehow shameful, to be hurt. She swallows, her voice hardening slightly.

"And mad. I'm so mad at them. Why do they even pretend they care? Why not just spit in my face and be done with it? It's all about appearances and reputation, isn't it? Why not just stop the lying and tell me they hate me? At least Abuela's honest."

It's easier right now for Santana to tell herself that her parents hate her than the more complex truth that they don't know how to love her. It almost feels like the same thing.

Brittany grinned as Santana laid on her chest, almost childlike in the way her head rested under Brittany's chin. She knew the steady rise and fall of her chest and thump of her heart soothed Santana, grateful that she could make Santana feel safe, even though she wished she could do more to help her.

"We're not your family, I know," Brittany said softly, letting Santana know she understood. Despite the fact the Pierces were so close to Santana and she loved them, Brittany knew it wasn't comparable to Santana's actual parents and grandparents, even though their relationship was rocky, at the end of the day, they were her parents.

Sighing, Brittany rubbed her back. Santana had every right to be mad at her parents, but she was asking questions even Brittany couldn't answer. "I don't think… I don't think they even realize what they're doing is that bad." She said honestly. "Which is horrible, but I don't think they realize how much you need them still, how much you've always needed them." She knew Santana did, even if Santana would never say it. "I just… I'm mad too," Brittany confessed finally, "I'm furious at them for hurting you like that."

Chewing on her lip, Brittany thought about it for a moment. "You're mine to love and protect and keep and I hate that they can hurt you like that and don't even realize it." She shook her head, the hand on Santana's back now twirling the ends of her hair. "I wish I could keep you in a little bubble sometimes, so no one in the world could ever hurt you." Brittany said, imagining how perfect that situation would be.

"You are my family," Santana insisted, raising her voice slightly. "My real family. The one that matters."

She sighed again as Brittany rubbed her back, tucking herself more closely against her and tightening her arm around her. As Brittany plays with her hair, she raises her eyes up to her, surprised when Brittany confessed she is angry. She isn't used to seeing or hearing that from Brittany, and it seems almost unnatural to hear her admit this.

She doesn't, for once, contradict Brittany about needing her parents. Because she does. She always has. She does still; if they were to call her up and apologize right now she might be angry and upset, but she would still take them back.

She smiled a little when Brittany called her hers, loving the fierce tone she used with the word. It makes her feel loved and seen in a way little else can.

"Always yours," she confirmed. "Maybe we can make a bubble machine big enough one day and be selfish. Save it just for us."

Brittany patted her back twice to settle her - "I know, I know. I meant we're not your parents." She clarified, knowing Santana would disagree with her if she tried to push back on her about them not being family. "Of course we're family, but we can't take your mom or dad or abuela's place." Even though she wished she could. It would make things way easier for Santana, not having to battle with the void left by her parents, despite how much love Brittany gave her.

At the surprised look Santana gave her, Brittany raised her eyebrows. "What? People can't just treat you like that San." She said in explanation, reaching to tuck Santana's hair behind her ear. It made her heart tug just slightly at how surprised Santana was that people cared about her enough to get angry for her, like she expected Brittany to not have a reaction at all about what had happened.

"I wish," She agreed with a sad smile. Brittany envied a world where she could so easily protect Santana from anything bad or harmful, knowing she'd suffered enough, way more than the average person, even though she didn't deserve to or bring any of it on herself. "I guess I'll just have to try my best to protect you in this world." Brittany pointed out, knowing there were so many instances already where she'd failed to protect Santana.

Santana settled, though scowling a little at Brittany's rephrasing. She wished Brittany's parents were hers, although not too often, because that would mean she and Brittany couldn't be together, obviously. And she would never wish that Brittany swapped families with her. She loved her too much to wish that on her.

"But they do," she murmured in response to Brittany's comment about people not treating her as her family did, sounding sadder than she had intended. "They always have."

She squeezed Brittany again, making the same promise back to her. "And I'll protect you. We'll always have each other's back."

Because she was Brittany's. Brittany had promised. And now, Brittany was hers again.