A/N: Okay so I sat down to write something that certainly was not this but this is what came out instead. It's a sequel/follow up/I don't know what to call it to so I'm just going to call it part five and tack it on on the end here.

Part 5

Sam gets the call at two o'clock in the morning. He fumbles for his phone without even bothering to open his eyes and nearly drops it as he tries to raise it to his ear. When he finally manages to get the phone in the correct position, he mumbles hello into the mouthpiece, though he's pretty sure that, given the sleep induced fog around his brain, it doesn't come out sounding even remotely like hello.

There's heavy breathing on the other end for a minute before a string of words he can't understand come spewing out. Though he can't seem to comprehend the words, he recognizes the voice saying them and he can't help the immediate worry that courses through him. He sits up in bed then, opening his eyes and squinting into the darkness, not really seeing anything.

"Santana? Slow down, I don't understand you." He says into the phone, as the fog around his brain quickly dissipates.

The girl on the other end stops speaking mid word and he can hear her sigh before she starts again, more slowly. "She's…you've got to come, she won't stop."

Sam is already swinging his legs out of the bed before Santana's even finished. He answers her while he quickly pulls his jeans on. "I'll be right there." He pauses a minute, remembering that he no longer has access to a vehicle. "Just give me thirty minutes and I'll be there."

Santana sighs again and, as if she suddenly remembers that he's going to have to walk to them and that it's the middle of the night, she tells him. "No wait, it's far and it's late. Maybe you can just talk to her."

Sam shuffles the phone while he pulls a shirt on, bringing it back up to his ear, he answers while he slips his shoes on. "Is it as bad as last time?"

Santana doesn't say anything for a minute but finally she tells him, "worse," the word coming out in a breath of air.

"I'm coming." His answer is firm, leaving no room for discussion. "Just sit tight okay?"

"Okay," Santana mumbles and he's pretty sure she's on the verge of tears.

It's sort of strange, knowing this side of Santana, the vulnerable side, a side that he'd hadn't seen once when they were dating but that lately he's been seeing a lot of it. "I'll be there soon." He tries his best to reassure her, before hanging up.

Sam slides his phone into his pocket and quietly slips out of the house, hopping he won't be missed. It's still weird, living with strangers. Not that they aren't nice, because they really are a sweet couple, but he just never knows how they're going to react and it puts him on edge constantly. Sure his living situation had been far from ideal before, far far from ideal actually, but he'd always known where he stood at home, knew that he had to be careful because the end result of screwing up was always certain. Now, now he just doesn't know what to expect and it's a hard feeling to get used to. It's like he's constantly waiting to do that one thing that's going to tip his foster parents over the edge.

He sighs to himself, kicking at the ground, knowing that, in the end, it doesn't actually matter how his foster parents end up reacting to him leaving so late at night because he needs to get to Brittany and that's the only thing that truly matters. He knows that even if he had been living at home he still would have risked the punishment and snuck out to go to her now, when she clearly needs him. Truthfully, they've become quite dependent on each other and he knows that there really isn't anything that he wouldn't do for her or likewise that she wouldn't do for him. There's something about what they went through, what they are both still going through, that connects them on a level that no one else will ever really understand.

As he walks, Sam tries to guess what's happened with Brittany tonight, what has Santana so clearly shaken. Not that there's much guessing actually needed, this late at night it's most surely a nightmare, but for Santana to sound the way she sounded on the phone he knows that it must have been a bad one, a really bad one.

He sighs, thinking of how he and Brittany have almost switched roles recently. It's not that he's not plagued with his share of nightmares, because he is, it's just that at first she had been so stoic, his rock, seemingly providing all of the comfort while not needing any for herself. That day in the hallway, while he wept, she had just held his hand and smiled and later while his secret was relayed to Mr. Schue and then to the Department of Children and Family Services she didn't let go of him, not once. She gave him the support and the courage that he'd desperately needed in that moment without even blinking, even though she was going through so much herself.

Originally, she had seemed so unfazed by it all that it had been strange the first time he'd gotten a call from Santana, shortly after Brittany had moved in with her, saying that Brittany was freaking out and refusing to eat supper. That night Brittany had had the first nightmare, or at least the first nightmare that any of them were aware of, he's sure that, like him, she'd probably had them before that. He's especially worried tonight though because he thought that Brittany had been making progress, that she was finally settling into a routine at Santana's house and he had hoped that Santana's parents officially being given permanent custody of her last week would further ease the worry and fear that seemed to plague her.

Then again, perhaps the finality of the custody arrangements is actually the root of the problem. He knows that, even if she doesn't really know how to express it, Brittany is having a hard time with the fact that her parents gave up custody of her so easily. Sure they, especially her mother, had been absolutely terrible to her but, despite that, they are still her family and when she speaks it's clear that she still loves them. To have them so clearly not love her back is a kind of painful that Sam can only imagine. The problem is only compounded by the fact that she didn't even understand until recently that the way they treated her was not okay and so she never had a clue that they didn't feel about her the way that parents usually feel about their children. The whole thing is especially bad for her too because, according to his DCFS social worker, the goal when a child is removed from their home is supposed to be, where possible, reunification but Brittany's parents hadn't even attempted to fulfill the requirements that DCFS had set out for them to get her back, they had just willingly signed over custody to the state.

He can only imagine what it feels like for her, knowing that they didn't fight for her, because his dad has actually had the opposite reaction as Brittany's parents. His dad is fighting for him, fighting hard, which is why Sam is now sitting in what he likes to think of as limbo, or what most people call foster care. He hasn't seen his dad yet, they aren't allowing that at this stage, but apparently he has quit drinking, is going regularly to AA meetings, and is taking anger management courses. DCFS is putting all kinds of hoops in front of him and he's jumping through all of them, he wants Sam back and he's doing his best to make sure that happens.

Sam's not really sure how he feels about that, a part of him wants to believe that things really could change, that he could go home and not have to worry about being on the receiving end of one of his father's violent outburst ever again, that they could be a happy family like they were before his mom died. That part of him is the part that still loves his father, he is his father after all, and that part of him is also most likely the part that kept him from saying anything for all of those years. The other part of him however, is sceptical that anything could ever really change. That part of him worries that going home would just mean going back to living in fear and pain and that speaking up, saying those words that had been so hard to form, will have done nothing but anger his father more.

All in all, comparing his and Brittany's situations, he really doesn't know which is worse, having your parent fight for you, knowing that you might have to go back to a situation that could not actually change at all, or having your parent give you up that easily, knowing that they really didn't care about you. It's a lot to think about, too much to think about really. It's the kind of stuff he knows that teenagers shouldn't have to even consider but it's the kind of stuff that's on his mind all of the time.

He tries to keep his mind clear for the rest of the walk, wanting to be level headed when he gets to Brittany because he'll be no good for her if he's upset too. When he finally makes it to Santana's house he climbs the steps and approaches her front door but he hesitates there, unsure if he should knock this late at night. He doesn't have to make a decision though because as soon as he reaches the door, it swings open and Santana is standing on the other side.

Santana lets him in and Sam pauses a moment putting his hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently. She looks absolutely worn down, like the weight of this whole situation is crippling her. He knows she's been trying so hard to make everything better for Brittany and, to a lesser extent, for him, but it really isn't that easy. Stuff like this, what happened in his house and what happened in Brittany's house, well there's no magic wand you can wave to make it go away.

"She's in my room." The dark haired girl finally whispers, pulling away from him, her eyes laced with worry.

Sam nods and makes his way to the staircase, quickly heading up to the second floor to where the bedrooms are, Santana trailing behind him. When he swings the partially closed door to Santana's room open, he spots her immediately, she's sitting in the center of Santana's bed with her back against the headboard, her knees pulled tightly to her chest and her chin resting on them. She's staring at the bedspread but even still he can tell that her eyes are red rimmed and puffy and he's sure that if she looked up that he would find tears there. He doesn't hesitate, striding quickly over to the bed and sliding in beside her, while Santana remains standing in the doorway. He sits so that his side his pressed into Brittany's and he feels her immediately lean in towards him. Her head tilts ever so slightly and her gaze shifts from the bedspread to his feet.

"You're alive." She whispers and then her chin leaves her knees and she's looking right at him. Tears spill out of her eyes but she smiles a bit. "You're alive." This time the words are a little louder and her voice carries a mixture of relief and disbelief.

He's slightly puzzled by her reaction, having fully expected the problem to be related to her parents, but he smiles back at her the best he can. "Of course I'm alive silly."

"You're alive," she says again, this time the smile lighting up her whole face, despite the ever present tears. "You were…" she pauses, more tears rolling down her cheeks and the smile fading, "you died."

Sam wraps his arm around her shoulder and pulls her even closer to him. "In your dream I died?"

Brittany nods, sniffling. She doesn't say anything for a minute but finally the words come tumbling out in a quick succession that he has a hard time keeping up with. "You were my brother and we lived with your dad and my mom and they…they hurt you really really bad but I couldn't help you." She takes a gulp of air, sniffling again. "I tried Sam, I really tried, I promise…but they just kept hurting you and then you…then you died. You wouldn't get up." She takes another shaky breath before continuing, her words quieting down to a whisper. "They hurt you and I couldn't save you."

"Oh Britt," he whispers, hugging her with both arms. "I'm alive. Nobody hurt me."

She pulls back so that she's looking him in the eye. "You're alive but somebody did hurt you." Her words are solemn.

Sam nods, it's true and he can't deny it. "Somebody did hurt me but you saved me remember? You got me help and I'm okay now."

"You promise you're okay?" She asks him, clearly still worried.

He sighs, it's not like years of fear and pain can just disappear overnight but she knows this, probably better than anyone, and doesn't need to be reminded of that. "It's going to be okay. We're both going to be just fine." He settles for telling her.

"But…" Brittany starts but she stops, uncertain.

Sam looks over at Santana then, who's still standing in the doorway as if she needs permission to enter her own room and he nods his head slightly, indicating that she should join them.

Santana hesitates only a moment before she steps towards the bed, climbing in and taking a seat on Brittany's other side. She laces her fingers with Brittany's squeezing gently. "He's right you know. It's going to be okay." Her voice is filled with determination and she meets Sam's eyes across Brittany's head, making it clear that her message isn't just for Brittany. "Nobody messes with Santana Lopez and I'm not going to let anyone hurt him or you. Never again, okay. Never again."

"Okay." Brittany whispers, letting her head drop onto Sam's shoulder and clutching tighter to the hand that Santana has a firm grip on.

As Brittany's eyes begin to droop, Sam realizes that he isn't going anywhere tonight. Truthfully, he wouldn't have wanted to leave anyway because right here, right now, even with the uncertainty of his fate looming, it really does feel like it's going to be okay.