This is just an angsty one-shot inspired by last night's premiere episode, which was crazy. I thought it was good, but ugh at the end. Obviously, spoilers for 3x01. Also, I don't speak Spanish so if google translate is wrong (which is a distinct possibility) then let me know.

Winners and Losers

"Santana, you like playing both sides… isn't that right? What team you playing for this year? The losers? Or the winners?"

Winners and losers. That was what high school was. One big collection of losers trying to win and winners dying not to lose. Well, she had been a loser and all it had gotten her was a first-class ticket to getting slushied and rumors about her sexuality. And she wasn't going back there. Santana had been a winner before, with the Cheerios, and it had put her on top of the school. No one had been able to lay a hand on her when she was under the leadership of Sue Sylvester; the same couldn't be said for Will Schuester.

"Team Sue," she said, forcing herself to smile. She could play both sides; it had worked before. She would perform with the glee club, her friends, and then go to Cheerios practice and support Sue's campaign. After all, Sue wasn't going after the glee club personally anymore. That meant that Santana could be a winner among losers – she could keep her secret, keep the Cheerios, keep the glee club, and be protected. She was going to be playing all the angles, but Santana had no doubt that she could handle it.

When the time came, she was going to watch the world burn.

Her chance came after the food fight in the cafeteria. The crowd had been less than enthusiastic about their impromptu performance and the reaction had made her angry. Even if they didn't like the glee club, throwing food at them was a new low and the moment she knew she had made the right decision to join Team Sue.

And so a plan was formed. She met with Sue and the devious coach had decided that they were literally going to watch the world burn. It might be dangerous, to start a fire in the open courtyard, but she wanted them to send her message loud and clear. They would rewarded and forever in Sue's favor favor (until they did something next week that made her mad but for this week they would be okay.) Plus, those purple pianos were super tacky.

What Santana didn't plan on was Rachel Berry approaching her after their math class, holding her back until everyone had left the room.

"What do you want, Manhands?"

Rachel stood in front of her nervously, biting her lip in what Santana thought was an almost-cute way. "I think it's a bad idea, Santana."

Santana narrowed her eyes. "Are you talking about that sweater? Because yeah, I agree," she spat.

She watched Rachel's nervousness start to fizzle out and grow into frustration. Good, she thought. It would be nice to goad the hobbit into leaving her alone early in the semester because no way had she just thought anything about Rachel Berry was cute.

"No, Santana, I am talking about the fact that you and the other Cheerios are planning to set fire to one of the glee club's purple pianos," Rachel said calmly, crossing her arms.

Santana leaned back against the teacher's wooden desk, sliding her palms behind her and resting her weight on them. "I don't know what you're talking about," she replied coolly. "I don't think I speak your particular dialect of hobbit."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "First, that implies that you speak any dialect of hobbit and while I understand that you are trying to mock my height, you have inadvertently made reference to the fact that you 'speak my hobbit language.' And second, you can deny it all you want, but your Cheerios aren't quite as stealthy as they would like to imagine."

"God, I forgot that you don't know how to shut the hell up," she said, casually glancing at her nails. So her shot at Rachel's height hadn't gone over the way she wanted; that didn't matter as much as getting away from her. When she looked back up, Rachel was staring at her with those pretty brown eyes and – no, not pretty brown eyes, definitely not pretty. "What do you want?"

Rachel sighed, dropping her arms. "Mister Schuester is on the warpath with Coach Sylvester's campaign against the arts, Santana, and rightfully so. The fact that she would choose to target art programs is despicable."

Santana nodded. She wouldn't say it, but she agreed – Sue's hatred of the arts kind of really sucked because Santana really kind of liked singing and dancing. "Yeah, I know," she settled for.

Rachel looked up at her, her brows furrowing. Santana could see the discontent in her eyes, the worry and the concern. It made her uneasy; she didn't need anyone to care about her, least of all Rachel freaking Berry. "Then why are you doing this?"

Santana sighed. "I don't really have a choice," she said, wishing immediately afterwards that she hadn't said anything at all.

Rachel moved towards her and Santana had to fight back the urge to take six million steps away from the shorter girl; she didn't want to give her the satisfaction. Rachel came next to her, leaning back against the desk. Santana sat up slightly, crossing her arms over her chest. Something between them had shifted with her statement and it made her uncomfortable.

"There's always a choice," Rachel told her, her voice soft. It reminded of her their sophomore year, at Sectionals, when Rachel had believed her. Rachel had been the only one. But that was two years ago and they hated her and she hated them. "You could always quit the Cheerios."

Santana scoffed. "Yeah, sure," she mocked, her heart not really in it. "The last time I did that I got slushied. No offense, but I actually care if my clothes get ruined."

Rachel rolled her eyes and Santana could see that she was trying to stay calm and be patient. "The glee club is a family," she tried. "Wouldn't you rather get slushied and have friends than have no one and be a pawn in Sue Sylvester's games?"

Sue's games were harsh, but Santana had learned firsthand that it was better to play her games with her than be the target of said games. Rachel looked at her expectantly, and so she laughed, because that's what Santana Lopez would do – she would laugh in Rachel Berry's eternally hopeful face.

"Friends," she squeaked out in disbelief. "Family? I have to give it to you, Berry, that's a novel concept."

Rachel huffed. "It's true!" she cried.

Santana thought about her parents, her absentee mother and her drunken father, both of whom were the worst part of her day. And she thought about the glee club, all of their pandering to the notion of family and togetherness while being the first ones to cut each other down. Sometimes they came through for each other and sometimes they didn't. The glee club was a family the same way she and her parents were. Santana needed more than that; she needed safety.

"You keep telling yourself that, Rachel," she said. "Keep telling yourself that while you send girls to crack houses and cost us Nationals. Sure, you got to kiss Finn and that was great for you guys, but what about the rest of us? You didn't think about us then. Family. Right."

Rachel shook her head and Santana could see the sadness settling on her features. "Mister Schue is going to be upset, Santana," she said. "He's demanding allegiance this year."

Santana scoffed, standing up fully. "Yeah, him and everybody else at this school," she told Rachel.

"I know that glee is the best part of your day," Rachel said. "And even if you don't like it, we are your family."

Santana turned away, walking to the desk she had been at and grabbing her bag. She didn't have to listen to this. She didn't need Rachel Berry coming to her and trying to convince her that the glee club cared about her. She wasn't there for them; she was there for herself.

"I just hate to think that you might lose that," she heard Rachel say, her voice still unbearably soft.

"Whatever," she scoffed. "It's not like we don't have three other pianos. And besides, what's the worst that could happen? Mister Schue needs all the warm bodies in glee club that he can get his hands on."

She walked to the door, holding the strap of her bag over her shoulder, hoping that what she said was true, that she would get no more than she ever got - a slap on the wrist at most, disappointed silence at the least.

"Just because you're sad doesn't mean that you have to light the world on fire," she heard Rachel say quietly.

Better to set them on fire than wait for them to set me on fire, she thought to herself. Santana walked out.

Santana had been wrong, so very very wrong. Sure, watching that eye-sore of a piano burn to the ground had been rewarding. She had watched with a smile as the purple piano project went up in flames. She was back in Sue's good graces and she got to help light something on fire. It was a win-win as far as she was concerned.

Until Mister Schuester banned her from the glee club for a lack of allegiance. Which was stupid, she thought, putting on her best bitch face and walking out. Well fuck them because she was Santana Lopez and Santana Lopez didn't need anyone, least of all a bunch of losers. She didn't need them and their catchy musical numbers and fun performances and sense of togetherness and the ensuing food to the face. The glee club could have their stupid ugly pianos and that new kid with the red pants and bowtie. She had the Cheerios; no one ever threw food at them.

And let Mister Schuester be down a person, because seriously, what part of "we don't have enough members and we can't get anyone to join" meant "we're going to start kicking people out"? She hadn't done anything that bad (she had done way worse than set something on fire) and it's not like it was her idea. She was just following orders. Santana had to get kicked out because he had a grudge with Coach Sylvester?

Well they could all go to hell and she would light them on fire while they walked there. Let it all burn, she told herself. Let that room full of people who didn't come after her just fucking burn.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she cried, throwing the front door open and stepping outside. She shut the door behind her. The last thing she wanted to do was stand anywhere near Rachel Berry, but her dad was home and she didn't want to risk him stumbling his way to the front door to see what she was doing. "Did you come to gloat? Well, congrats, you were right."

"Of course I didn't come here to gloat," Rachel said.

She paused and didn't say anything. Santana took a moment to look at her. She was wearing simple pants and a t-shirt, clothes that weren't plaid and covered in animals and that looked like they came from the kid's section. It was a surprisingly okay look for her, Santana thought, but just okay because anything more than that should never describe Rachel Berry.

"Well?" she shot out. "I'm waiting. I don't have all day, Berry."

Rachel shuffled around and Santana crossed her arms. She was curious about why Rachel was there if it wasn't to gloat, but she wasn't going to let Rachel know that. Rachel, whose one claim to badass-ness was sending a girl to a crack house; she didn't get kicked out, Santana remembered. The thought pissed her off. Finn, Kurt, and a couple others had fought really hard to keep Rachel around, but no one had said a word when she got banned. Whatever, she thought, she was going to win this year so it didn't matter anyway. It was just the principle of the matter, Santana told herself.

Just because she was a bitch didn't mean everyone had to hate her. It wasn't her fault they didn't appreciate her awesome sense of wit.

"I suppose I just wanted to see how you're doing," Rachel said eventually.

"I'm great," Santana deadpanned. "Freaking fantastic. Never better."

"I didn't think that he would go through with it," Rachel told her. "We were all very surprised."

Santana shrugged. Rachel was trying to be nice to her, and she didn't like it. She didn't need Rachel Berry's sympathy.

"Glee club won't be the same without you," the shorter girl said.

"I know," Santana responded. "It'll be hard for you losers not to be in my awesome presence."

Rachel sighed. "Why do you always do that?"

Rachel was starting to lose her grasp on the situation and Santana knew it. If she could go on just a little further, Rachel's frustration would have her marching down the path and out of Santana's life and good riddance to those unflattering tights and that the awe-inspiring voice of their owner. Awe-inspiring? No, her voice was far less amazing than Santana's own; she just had better training, that was all. "Be awesome? I know that this might be hard for you to understand, but for some people, being awesome just comes natural."

Rachel crossed her arms and the two glared at each other. Santana had no problem with that; she had perfected her glare years ago. Freshman trembled beneath that intense smoldering gaze and she figured that Rachel was about the height of a freshman. It was close enough.

And eventually, Rachel did fold, thought it looked more like trying to maintain that kind of anger was tiring and less like she was scared of Santana. But that too was close enough to her. Anything that got those penetrating eyes away from her was close enough.

"If you quit the Cheerios and apologize, I know that Mister Schuester will take you back," Rachel said.

"God, I am not quitting the Cheerios again just for you losers," Santana shot back.

Rachel looked at her for a second and Santana had to try not to fidget. Rachel was looking at her like she was really seeing her and like she thought she understood something. But she didn't know anything as far as Santana was concerned and she shouldn't go around pretending like she did.

"You know, your sexuality doesn't matter to the glee club," Rachel said strongly.

What the fuck? No, absolutely not. Rachel Berry really had no idea what she was talking about. Santana just didn't want to be a loser anymore. It had nothing to do with the fact that she was gay, not that she was acknowledging that fact, because she wasn't, but it didn't have anything to do with Team Sue. Team Sue was about winning.

"I don't know what you think you're talking about," Santana spat, "but whatever you think you know, it's wrong. And if you say anything to anyone about your wild theories, I will fucking end you, Berry, you got that?"

Rachel didn't back down, though, didn't even flinch under Santana's threat. But Santana glared anyway, her jaw set firmly. Rachel sighed again. "If you change your mind, there's always a place for you," she said.

"I don't need you to save me a spot," Santana sneered. It was a lie and it stung her to know what she was turning down. It was a calculated risk, though. She was going to burn this year and it was going to lead her to victory. "This year is about winning for me, and you and your precious little glee club aren't going to get past Sectionals."

Rachel only looked at her sadly, with that same I-think-I-know-something face. It was almost a little endearing, the way she seemed to just get what Santana was trying to do. Almost being the key word, because Rachel was wrong, totally fucking wrong.

There was noise from inside the house and her father slung the door open. "Santana, ¿quién es?" he said, his words slurring a bit.

"Fuck," Santana muttered, keeping an eye on Rachel, who looked surprised at the intrusion. "No es una, Papi," she responded, putting a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Go back inside."

She gave him a friendly nudge in the right direction and slammed the door behind him. "Go away," she said to Rachel. "This conversation is over."

Rachel opened her mouth to say something, but Santana wasn't going to have it. Rachel could save her inspirational speeches and talk of unity for someone who gave a damn. "Go the fuck away," Santana yelled. Rachel had seen too much, invaded her privacy and her home and fuck, Rachel just didn't know anything.

"I hope you know what you're doing," Rachel said sadly, her voice soft.

Santana didn't respond. She knew what she was doing and she didn't have to justify herself to anyone, least of all Rachel Berry. No, she didn't owe anyone anything. Except maybe a punch to the face of everyone on her list. Rachel had rapidly passed Mister Schuester in line.

Rachel turned away, walking down the path through the yard to her car. Santana didn't stick around to watch her leave. Because fuck Rachel Berry, and fuck Will Schuester, and fuck the stupid glee club. Santana Lopez knew exactly what she was doing; she was setting the world on fire and watching it burn. Winning.