AN: This is the last chapter.

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Star Light Hero

Part III

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There isn't much to do stranded in the middle of nowhere. I guess we were lucky that we had a river to occupy most of our time this afternoon. We gave up the rope swing to a brother and sister duo and their parents. After a short nap laying under the waning sun, Puck alerted us that it was food time.

Quinn had been smart to bring a gas grill, but Puck wanted a fire for later. I elected myself to help and search for wood while Santana and Quinn took over dinner.

"I saw some logs at the entrance of the park, we should walk up there. It's not that far." Puck's tanned back turned away from me and he started down the gravel road.

I had changed out of my swim suit into a tank top and shorts and traded my flip flops for a pair of old sneakers that I brought along. Puck also changed out of his trunks and into some shorts, but he loved to flaunt his chest.

The long trek to down the gravel road was pretty much silent, other than my comments about wooden creatures and elves living in the towering trees. There was an old water bottle that we kicked between us while walking up the road, but Puck's strong punt sent it flying into the brush.

"Ah, see plenty of stuff to burn." Puck jumped down into the ditch and pushed a couple logs with his foot.

"Watch out for sleeping bowtruckles..." I slid down the side of ditch, dirt and rocks p` ouring into my shoes.

"Right, I'm going to throw a couple of logs up there so watch out." He picked up a log and hurdled it to the road landing with a thump.

We weren't going to start a fire with giant logs, so I searched around for smaller branches to bring back with us. There wasn't much to be found on the ground so I moved my attention to the lower branches of a dead tree nearby.

I wanted the fire to awesome.

Awesome enough so we could make smores and so when I got drunk later and tried to jump over it Santana would have something to be worried about.

I swung at one of the higher branches, jumping to knock it out of the tree when Puck shouted.

"Britt!"

I made contact with the branch, but Puck distracted me enough to not notice the stick coming down. I tried to jump out of the way; but the splintered end hit my shoulder, peeling back a small patch of skin.

I dropped the stick I was using as a club and clutched my bare and now bleeding shoulder. At the moment I couldn't feel any pain from my shoulder, the sight of white flesh ripped away and oozing red liquid from the small wound was enough to set my jaw.

I carefully pulled the flap of skin to cover the tear, and instantly regretted it. There was bark and dirt covering my hands and some of it transferred into my cut.

"Fuck Brittany, are you ok?" Puck was at my side, pulling my hand away to get a better look.

"Yeah, it's just a scratch. It doesn't hurt too bad." From him pulling my hand away, the pain seared across my shoulder and up my spine.

"Are you sure?" Puck poked near the cut, not only causing it to bleed more but the action made my eyes cross.

Why the hell would you do that?

"Yeah, I'm fine. Let's just get back... Quinn probably has something to put on it." I pushed him away and picked what I had collected earlier.

Puck followed me up to the gravel road stomping through the brush. He had five logs, one of which he asked me to carry "if it's not too much for you."

If it was any heavier I would have thrown it at him, but I just nodded and added it to my burden. The balancing act kept my mind off the spasming nerves of my shoulder.

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The walk back was much quicker and it also allowed the cut some time to stop bleeding. That's all I needed, returning to Santana with blood pouring out of me.

As we neared the camp Puck slid up next to me and asked if he was going to be in trouble.

"You didn't make the stick fall... the lizard guy did."

"Yeah, alright. You just remind your lady when she comes at me with a knife in a minute." He visibly flinched at his own premonition and strode past me into our camp.

Santana didn't ever really baby me. Behind closed doors it was the reverse, which I was fine with fetching her whatever she wanted. But the sure way to get her maternal instincts flaring was for me to wander up with something broken. After she was confident that I wasn't going to die, she'd embark on a war path to destroy whatever caused my injury. The first time I sprained my ankle in Cheerios it was cute, but now I've just been fearing for other people's saftey.

I dropped my bundle next to Puck's discarded logs, and went into the truck for the first aid kit he told me was under the backseat.

She's probably going to set that tree on fire.

As the thought passed through my mind I faintly heard Puck saying something along the lines of "before you get angry, I didn't..." Wrong thing to say.

The splurge of Spanish profanity I anticipated never came. Curious, I pulled the kit from underneath the seat with much discomfort to my shoulder; and walked over to the old wooden picnic table.

Oh. She was eating.

"Food looks great you two." Puck was already nose deep into his plate. By the nearly clean paper plates it seemed that Quinn and my lovely girlfriend didn't want to wait for me and Puck.

Food would have to wait for me, I had a cut to clean. I took a water bottle from the cooler to clean my hands with. That was enough for Santana to get a glimpse of my cut. From the look of her face, I guessed that Puck severely downplayed my injury.

"Brittany you're bleeding!" There was my Spanish swearing.

I was able to clean my hands before Santana did and same and ordered me to sit still while she bandaged the cut.

Santana dabbed at the tear with a paper towel, which hurt less than the next step. Digging the bark and washing the dirt out of it. Finishing with antibiotic ointment and two bandages. Even though her hands were delicate and carefully the process left me with tears threatening to fall. The kiss she placed over each bandage chased them away, leaving me with only the dull throbbing heat.

She hugged my back, mindful of my shoulder, and mumbled into the top of my head that I "need to be more careful."

"I wanted to get enough wood for a good fire..." Quinn set down a portion of what they made in front of me, burgers, along with a concerned look.

"You should have let Puck handle that." She released me long enough to get a can of soda from the cooler and sit down next to me on the bench.

"I wanted to help."

"Stop getting bent out of shape over a scratch. She's a grown ass woman." For once I agreed with Puck, but I did take a small pleasure in watching Santana slap him in the back of his head.

"I'm just sayin. All she needs is a couple of shots and a few hits of your kindbud and she'll be fine." Puck tossed his place into the trash bag and set about to start the fire. All the while Santana glared at his every move.

It wasn't until Puck was busy with the fire and Quinn cleaning up that Santana asked me if his suggestion would make me feel better.

"I don't know what else we're supposed to do." I let her clear the plate from in front of me while I finished off my soda.

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There were three things to do while camping: eat, drink, and sleep. Maybe a couple other things, but those don't warrant mentioning.

While Santana left to set up a bowl, I decided to get the chairs. We only had three folding chairs between the four of us, but I was happy to give up a seat in favor of leaning against Santana's legs.

Every movement caused some discomfort in my shoulder. I just ignored it, thinking that soon I wouldn't be feeling anything. Anything other than Santana's fingers ghosting through my hair and along my neck. But there wouldn't be any pain.

"Thanks Brittany. Are you sure you don't want a chair?" Quinn dragged over the cooler filled with our chilled beer and offered me a can.

"Yeah this way I can play with the pill bugs." I popped the top and foam spewed from the opening coating my fingers before I had the mind to suck it up.

Beer wasn't my favorite thing to drink, but it was cheap and it did its job. Really I didn't have to be drunk to fool around like I did; however, it was more socially accepted that I was drunk when I ripped off my clothes. And I liked the buzz, so it was win win.

I sat in the chair staring at the small fire that Puck had going. Slowly nursing it into flames that could eat away at the larger logs we gathered earlier. The camp was already dark, and the flames lit up our camp site. The trees hung over our head, like giant fingers craning down to pick us up, but they mostly blocked out the light from the moon.

Once the fire picked up Puck settled into his chair next to Quinn and Santana finally returned from our tent. I sat up and let her take the chair in favor of her legs.

We pasted the pipe between the four of us silently, excluding Quinn, pausing to refill the cashed bowl. Our beer cans littered the edge of the fire twinkling in the light. The drugs masked the pain in my shoulder completely, and let me relax against Santana.

I dropped my head backwards into her lap, staring up through the tree limbs at the clear night sky while she pulled my hair from my ponytail and untangled the knots from swimming. Her fingers worked mindlessly in my hair, every so often scraping my scalp.

If I was a cat, like Tubbers, I'd be purring. I gave my best imitation of the noise while closing my eyes and stretching into Santana to nuzzle her thigh.

"Britt you're not a kitty." She stroked the side of my face with her palm, urging me to face her.

I turned and looked up to her, bright eyes and her lips curled into a soft smile meant only for me. Someone else would have said that the fire's light danced in her eyes, or that the glow from the fire made her look unearthly. I knew the difference.

Santana's eyes weren't reflecting the light. No. She was absorbing it into her, bending in ways that no prism could and then emitting it as her own.

"I wanta go look at the stars." Truly I wanted to get away from Puck and Quinn. Maybe find out if her eyes would change, like I knew they would, under the moonlight.

"Ok, hold on a second." I stood and brushed the dirt and leaves from my shorts. She searched the cooler for her special water bottle. It was probably just filled with vodka she stole from her mom's liquor cabinet.

"Alright." I took the hand she offered me; I always took delight when she did. "We're going down to the river. Try not to make anymore babies."

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The gravel bar, thousands of tiny stones smoothed over from years of tumbling through the river, had retained the heat of the day. The night air was amplified by the cool water rolling down the stream. From underneath the rocks heated my skin of my back, while Santana laying to my left warmed the rest of me.

She brought along another joint with her plastic bottle of vodka. We passed the two between us as we talked about how our lives would change when we got to New York. Santana was the embodiment of excess. She wanted the best and the most, but she also gave the best and most. Whether it be her drugs or her love, it was usually focused on me.

From the river's banks the sky was opened above me. There were no trees to hide the stars, millions more than I have ever seen in Lima. I traced outlines of animals and people in them, pointing them out to Santana as I went. A dog, something that looks like a tea pot, a funny duck.

Her fingers played against mine, lifting my hand to rest on her stomach. A shiver ran through her so I moved closer to her offering her what heat I could. Santana would return my notes in the sky, adding to our giant painting.

I wondered how many people have drawn in the sky as we are now. How people's figures are forgotten with the rise of the sun or a drifting cloud.

Only a few pictures ever really stayed in the stars. But those people were heroes from a long time ago. I wondered what they did to be cast into the galaxy like that. It must have been difficult whatever it was they did. If I ever did anything heroic I wanted to be remembered in the night sky.

"Do you think I could be a hero?"

My question hung in the air between us. With everything floating in my brain I was surprised I even asked.

Santana shifted next to me, crawling to lay half onto of me, lifting my arms and wrapping my arms around herself.

"You're my hero." Her soft voice was louder than the water rushing in the river, and the feeling of her lips against mine ending her admission was just as powerful.

Yet, my thoughts turned into the sense that she was wrong. I couldn't possibly be anyone's hero. There was no way that I could do anything as epic as the gods. Gods save people. I never did anything like that.

She rested her head under my chin. I could feel her even breathes against the skin of my neck.

"I don't think that counts." I mumbled into the top of her head.

She lifted her head to stare down at me. "Of course it counts. I said so."

I supposed that's how the heroes and gods got up there, someone saying so. Even though Santana's word had always been sound and absolute to me, this seemed out of her grasp.

I didn't say anything. How could I tell her she no power over the stars when I didn't even know who did. For all I knew Santana did control the stars, sun, and moon.

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We stayed on the gravel bar for a while. Lazily kissing and squeezing each other. Santana was on top of me, biting my neck and sucking on my pulse.

I whirled my head around at the crushing of gravel behind us. The light from the moon was enough to make out three figures, but a bright white light blinded me.

"Good evening ladies..." The voice was calm, a southern gentlemanly ring to it; but it sent a wave panic through me. It shot me to my feet, pulling Santana along. I felt her quiver and tighten her fingers around my left arm.

The gravel groaned under the weight of our intruders steadily approaching us. I tried my best to focus in my haze of drugs and pin point where the three people were. But it was no use, the light blinded me. I gripped Santana closer to me.

"Midnight dip in the- are we interrupting?"

The light stopped moving, and a dark haired boy walked out into the light. It was Heath, the slime mold from earlier.

Besides me I felt Santana release a heavy breath and pull from my arm.

"Yeah you are. So if you could fuck off that would be great." She stood in front of me stumbling to gain her balance.

"We just wanta hang out." Heath shrugged and looked over to who I assumed to be his friends from earlier.

The light came closer, shining directly into Santana's face. I could see now it was a camera, a crappy one unlike my own. My hands flew to Santana's shoulder as she swung for the camera, she almost fell face first into the rocks.

Santana had three more beers than me and she was primary recipient of both the vodka and weed. I was trashed and she was ghetto blasting. I had no idea what to do.

"Get that light out my fucking face right now or else-" Her second swing ripped the dangling lens cap from the thread of yarn.

"This is expensive..." The light lifted flooding the blonde camera boy's face; he didn't look very pleased to find the cap torn off.

"Stop it." I whispered the words. Not to Santana, not really to the boys either. Maybe someone else who would actually listen. Someone who could have control over this, because it certainly wasn't me.

"You know earlier you were really rude to us. That wasn't very nice." Heath pushed the camera boy away, stepping up to Santana.

"I'm not a nice person." Santana quipped back. It wasn't her best. She was leaning backwards onto my hands on her shoulder to keep up standing up right.

She wasn't able to talk trash, and I was going to have a hard time dragging her back to camp. Three boys hot on our heels wasn't going to make this easier.

Wait. There's three of them, where's the other...

The light made searching the gravel bar difficult, but I could see the other blonde guy circling around behind us.

"Santana, maybe we should go back..." I made sure that everyone could hear me. The boys and Santana in her stupor.

There was an awkward tension growing, so I pushed Santana's shoulders in the direction of the wooden stairs. She complied, and we made it a few steps closer.

"You're not going anywhere until we get our apology." Heath jumped in front of Santana, reaching out to her.

"I told you once to fuck off!" It was her breaking point, she twisted my hand from her shoulders and pulled me away from the boys. "Come on Britt."

"I don't think you heard right." The blonde boy, Tobi maybe, shoved Santana hard from behind us. I managed to keep her from falling, but just barely.

I turned around to the three boys, keeping Santana tucked behind me. "Don't touch her!" I felt her hands fumble for my pockets, and I pushed them away. It was so not the time for that.

"And what are you going to do about it?" Heath chuckled like there was nothing I could do to take Santana away from them. Tobi and the camera boy's laughs echoed in my ears.

I was rooted to the spot, a useless barrier between my girlfriend and three creeps.

After the laughter Santana must have collected herself. I felt her push pass me and confront the boys.

"Look I get that you three think you're hot shit right now. But in a minute you're gonna be up chucking your teeth."

"Oh really?" Heath closed the space between them. She's so much shorter than him, it's like she's yelling at Finn. Only this guy isn't Finn, he's some freak.

"Yeah." Santana poked a finger in his chest. I hoped that his shirt was thin enough to feel the sting of her nail, but I doubted it.

"And I suggest that you back the fuck off now before I get serious." The camera circled around us, the other boy shuffling behind me.

"I would love to get serious with you." A wave of nausea hit me, and it wasn't from the weed or alcohol. It was caused by the boy brushing her hair back smirking, and his friends chuckling like hyenas.

"Ha, see now." Santana took a step back and lunged forward shoving him hard. It didn't do much damage, he barely moved. "You're just fucking askin-"

"Watch your fucking language whore." I saw his fist fly through the air, I heard the smack, and I felt my chest tighten; but it unreal.

Santana was doubled over on the gravel, kneeling in the rocks. Her hands were clenched around her mouth.

"San!" My body fell forwards to her. She needed me. She was hurt. But a pair of arms circled my waist and pulled me into a heavy chest.

"Hold it right there blondie." The other blonde boy trapped me against him. I called out again for her, beating his arms; but the grip didn't loosen.

The camera circled around Santana, plunging into her face. "Dude! Heath you busted her lip! Awesome!"

"That's not all we're gonna bust." Heath pushed the smaller boy, "move Mark."

"Let go of me! Santana!" I struggled against the boy. I thought I was free when he released me. However, it was only to spin me around to back hand me.

The force of the cheap shot tossed me to the ground. I fell on my shoulder; the rocks digging into the cut opening it back up. The pain immobilized me from a second and then I felt the stinging of my cheek and the blood weeping there.

At least she wouldn't be bleeding alone.

"You think that was anything? I get tossed around harder by my mother!" Santana wobbled up to her feet, wiping the blood from her lips. Her face was contorted in pain and anger, but her eyes. They always gave her away. She was scared, more than I've ever seen.

I tried to push myself off the ground, but a heavy shoe was thrust into my chest. Taking my air and pinning me to the rocks.

"That was just the beginning sweet heart." His voice was eerily calm.

I turned my head to see Heath advance on her again, her face illuminated by the camera's light. I could see the blood, and I could feel her fear.

"It all starts with a touch." Slowly his hand reached out, uncurling his index finger and pressing into the flesh of her nose. He then dragged it down to her bloodied lip, collecting a small amount and bringing it to his lips.

"You already taste good."

My internal mantra was just one word.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

The tree stump on my chest wasn't budging. No amount of scratching, punching, or wrenching was breaking the boy's hold on me.

I gave a fleeting glance to Santana, hoping that she would tell me what to do. She looked back to me, and I saw that she on her last leg. Her expression was something like guilty, and I didn't understand until she turned from Heath and made a run for it.

She knew there was nothing she could do to save us. So she ran. She always ran.

When she ran in fear she made mistakes. Like not looking down. Tripping over a piece of drift wood. Knocking her head on a stone.

Heath and the camera strolled over to her, a tangled mess of limbs. I watched as he kneeled next her. I couldn't hear what he said over the river and Tobi's cackling, but I did manage to hear her scream "puu" before her voice was muffled.

Puck would be helpful now, but her calling out to him made me more angry than hopeful that he heard.

I heard dragging and thrashing above my head, I assume it was Santana being brought back over closer to the river.

"Now don't think about running again. Or else things are going to be rough for your friend." My eyes widen and I looked up to my captor.

The boy lifted his foot from my stomach, quickly sending it back down onto my breast. It hurt, but not as much as his fist coming down against my nose with a resounding crack in my ears.

My vision blackout.

"You care what I do with her?"

"Shut up Tobi!"

"I guess that's an ok. Your friend can't be having all the fun."

The only thing I was aware of was the stabbing in my nose and blood coating my fingers.

Once I looked back to Santana she was pinned to the ground. The camera boy was holding her hands above her head, and Heath hovering over her. I could see her shirt was torn, her exposed chest and heaving in the cold night. His hands were mauling her skin, while the camera flew around soaking in every angle.

I moan out her name. Like magically I would find the strength to push this oaf off of me and rescue her.

"You like that?" I whipped my head up, finding the boy pressing himself along my torso.

I shoved him, but he was heavy.

"You like watching your friend." He pushed my head back to watch what was happening to Santana. His right hand pressed my head into the gravel while his other grabbed my breast.

Tears mingled with my blood, seeping between the rocks. Soon to be washed away by the river and forgotten, just like my drawings in the sky.

"San..." I reached out to her, wishing I could make it stop. The boys began slapping her and the strangled gasps where too much for me to bear. I whimpered.

"You're a freak bitch." I ignored his voice the best I could. But his grinding was another thing. Other than what I expected to be poking against me, there was something else pushing into the skin of my thigh. I creeped my hand to the area, my pocket.

When did that get there?

I peeked at the boy from the corner of my eye; his mouth was drawn into a sick smile and completely focused upon Santana.

Quickly I shoved my hand into right pocket and closed my fingers around the knife. From the feel of it, slick short handle and the round metal bud that would project the blade out of the casing. It was Santana's switchblade, a la Lima Heights Adjacent, it must have been what she was reaching for earlier.

Tobi's fingers bit into the sides of my face, his other hand tailing down my stomach to my shorts. It was as his hand shoved past my waist band and I watched Heath unbuckled his pants that my apprehension is eradicated.

I pull the knife from my pocket, the blade shooting out hidden at my side. I've never hurt someone, not as I have to now. I certainly didn't want to kill anyone, but where do you even stab someone?

"No!" Santana cries out and the camera boy fastened a hand over her mouth.

"I have to..." I close my eyes and hope that I can do this. I have to, for Santana and for me.

The hand on my face presses me further into the gravel, while the other pushes roughly inside of me. "What the fuck are you babbling about? You likin' this-"

What was probably supposed to end in a dirty question turned into a harsh cry.

I plunged the knife into his open armpit. The blade made it easy to slide deep into his cavity, so much so that I wasn't sure I had done it right.

I swiped at his face as he pulled away from me, catching his brow and nose. I kicked him hard in the groin and jumped up. He crashed down into the rocks and curled into himself. Hopefully he would stay down.

The boy holding the camera looked over, but made no move to stop me. He just warned, "Heath, Heath, Heath that girl..."

I ran up to the three, they haven't gotten very far yet. Santana was pinned underneath the two with tears and blood trailing down her face. It was added fuel to my adrenaline. I was surprised I controlled myself from sinking the knife into his head, seeing her like that.

I grabbed Heath. Wrapped my arm around his neck and pulled him back onto his knees, off of Santana; and pressed the blade into his neck. The sweat on his skin mingled with the blood from his friend on Santana's knife. Just like Heath's "whoa whoa wait wait" and Tobi's cries met in the cool air. He brought his hands up to my arm, so I squeezed tighter and pushed the blade harder underneath his jawline.

If he tried to move I'd have to hurt him.

Santana eye's were wide I could tell she wanted to run from me, from the boys. I was just glad that Heath wasn't touching her anymore. But the other boy... Santana was squirming to pull her hands away from him.

"I suggest you let her go." Mark looked from me to Heath.

"Dude!" Despite Heath's plea the camera boy didn't move.

To prove my point, I lifted the blade to his sideburns and trailed a long shallow cut to the bottom of his ear.

Heath hissed and told the boy to let her go again.

The boy released Santana, and she scampered to my side covering herself with her arms.

"Now throw that in the river." My voice was low; there was only so much time I could buy threatening a life.

Without a second glance he took the five steps to the edge of the river and threw the camcorder into the water.

From there things got confusing. I thought that Santana was crouched next to me, but then I saw her behind the camera boy. Santana had picked up a log and smashed it over his head while he was still facing the river. He dropped limply onto the muddy bank.

She ran back over to me and decked Heath in the face twice. She tried to pull the knife from my hands, but I could only guess what she was going to do with it.

I shook my head, keeping my grip firm on both Heath and the knife.

"You're a fucking lucky bastard." She spat in his face and drew back her foot landing a solid kick into his groin. I let him fall out of my arms.

I stood taking one of Santana's hands in mine. She pulled me quickly in towards the steps, but I had one more thing to do.

Stepping up to him I lifted my foot above his head, crashing it into his skull, driving it down into the gravel. "Don't fuck with my girlfriend."

I closed the knife after wiping the blood on my shorts and pocketed it.

"Come on Britt!" Santana was a few paces away from me and we hurried back to camp, leaving the boys laying at the river side.

The fire died down, it was just a hot bed of embers. Puck and Quinn must have been sleeping in their tent by now. Santana jumped into our tent and reemerged with one of my shirts to replace her torn top.

I followed her over to Quinn's tent. She quickly unzipped the flap, while I issued the verbal warning "Quinn! Puck! Wake up!"

Groggily they sat up, wiping the sleep from their eyes trying to focus on our frantic shouts. I didn't even know what I was saying. They were just starting to realize that both me and Santana were covered in blood. But now wasn't the time for band-aids and hugs.

Santana got the message across. Rape, I stabbed someone, unconscious boys.

"We need to leave now!" Santana crawled out of Quinn's tent and ran back to ours, shoving things into our bags.

"You heard her right?" It was the kick to get them moving, mirroring Santana.

I stomped over to Santana. I was about to tell her to slow down, but time was not on our side. Who knew what those freaks were going to do when they came to.

Bruises started to form on her face, blood from cuts on her cheeks and lips still oozing. The sight almost made me want to run back to the river and bash their heads in with rocks. That was called venting right?

"Honey..." She thrust a bag into my arms carrying the other out of the tent.

"Baby, you can honey me later. We need to get the fuck out of here right now." She pushed past me to Puck's SUV. She was right, as much as I wanted to hold her in my arms right now, kiss away all the hurt, we had to run.

We deconstructed the camp much faster than we put it all together. Everything was thrown into the truck and we wasted no time with jumping in and speeding down the gravel road. Though it was much more crowded in the back seat with Santana, we didn't have time for Quinn's OCD and neat stacks.

Tension filled the cabin, the only sound was our combined ragged breaths.

I pulled Santana close to me, cradling her against me and stroking her matted hair. She was muttering something, not really words, just moving her lips against my neck. I wanted to say anything, to calm her down, restore her previous happiness.

Once we got out of the camp grounds and down the road a ways Puck broke the silence.

"Are you two going to tell us what fucking happened?" Puck looked back at us in the mirror wearing an expression I've never seen.

"Not now Puck! Just fucking drive!" I felt my mouth moving, but my voice sounded nothing like me. It caused me to flinch along with everyone else.

Quinn turned in her seat, staring at us with worried eyes. "Did... do we need to go to a hospital?"

I was pretty beaten up, but I didn't need a doctor. Santana on the other hand, I wasn't so sure of.

It was like I couldn't remember anything from the river. I barely remembered what happened to me, and all I could recall of San were her cries.

She was wedged against me, hot tears pouring from her onto me. I whispered in her ear, "are you... did they..." questions no one wants to ask the person they love. She sputtered in my neck shaking her head in the negative. I crushed her to me and let out a heavy grateful sigh to the gods.

"No... Just... Let's go home." Quinn was satisfied for now; there'd be a drill later I was sure. But now I just wanted to pretend that it was just me and Santana.

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We drove through the darkness, hardly seeing another traveler on the road. Quinn passed out in the front seat; every so often she would make a funny little snore that would put a small smile on Puck's face. Santana worked herself into a light sleep, waking up every few minutes.

In one of her intervals she woke and I didn't notice. I was flipping the knife in my free hand, my right was wrapped around her keeping her close. I switch my gaze from the knife to the dry blood on my shorts. What if I had hurt him really bad? What if he...

"Brittany."

Santana pulled the knife from my loose grasp. She flicked the blade open, there was still a little bit of blood on the metal. I watched as she took the material of my shirt she was wearing and worked off the blood and then wiped the handle.

"Open the window." I did as she asked, the wind howled and pulled at my hair.

She threw the knife out the window. I saw the silver glint tumble into the ditch. Silently I put the window back up. Her arms curled around my neck eliciting a dull pain from my shoulder.

"Just in case." She dropped her head back down to my shoulder and pulled her legs over my lap. Everything hurt, my shoulder, face, neck, back, everything. But it would hurt more not having her in my arms.

"I'm sorry..." I don't know what I was apologizing for. Suggesting going down to the river? Not doing something sooner? Stabbing that boy, cutting the other one, they both deserved it. But it felt like I did something wrong.

"No." She gently tilted my head towards her. "Thank you, if you hadn't... I don't know what would of happened."

I nodded, staring into her face lit from the dim green glow of the truck's dash board that filtered into the back. Her face was marred, bloodied and bruised; but her eyes still stole the light and radiated her beauty. Then I felt better for doing what I did. If they would have caused her to lose her light, I don't even know.

Santana leaned forward halting my thoughts. Hovering her soft lips over mine. As she spoke her warm breath washed over my face and into my lungs, "you're my hero." She pressed her lightly against me, but it was enough to open the cuts on her lips as well as mine.

I wiped away the liquid with my thumb and she resettled against me quickly drifting off to sleep. I licked off my finger tasting the salty copper. I busied myself with gliding my hands over her legs in my lap. She always liked that, even if we were in school.

I shouldn't have second guessed her earlier. Santana was always right. I suppose I was a hero, hers at least.

Maybe that, and we were lucky she thought of my pockets like a second purse.

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AN: I hope you guys liked it. I'm gonna get back to Contract Pending now.