Warning: This fan-fiction contains mentions of nonconsensual sexual relationship, abusive family, consensual physical relationship between two women, attempted suicide, language and violence.

disclaimer: I don't own any of the lyrics used in this work of fiction, all recognizable names are not mine. Any connection to real life events is purely coincidelntal.

AN: I just wanted to point out that I've never actually seen any episode of Glee, I just read some Fanfics in the fandom and decided It would be intersting to try to write a song-fic. So I'm not sure which characters were members of glee club at each point or whose datint who so I'd like to point out that this is an AU.

Have a wonderful time, I hope you'd enjoy :)

Chapter 1: Spidey's Curse (-Black Lips)
^^

Like every end of a semester, Santana took it upon herself to scan the names on the honor-roll. It served exactly two purposes; first she could choose her newest slushy victims. And second, and more importantly she saw the potential of future help in subjects she had difficulties in. She usually picked kids whose names she recognized from her own class, but there was one name that kept hunting her. A name that never moved from the top of the chart no matter which subject she searched.
-"Who the fuck is Q. Fabray?"

"Brittany, you know every one right?" Santana asked, not waiting for a reply, "whose Fabray?" The blonde just looked at her with slightly narrowed eyes.
"I can tell you it's not a care-bear. That's a funny name, where'd you hear it?"
"One of the school's misfit losers"
"Well, wouldn't it be more smart to like, ask another misfit loser?" Brittany offered half mindedly. Groaning, Santana face-palmed herself, of course it would be smarter to ask another nerd to find the elusive-ghost child that Q was.

Santana strode through the hallway, spotting the ugly sweater from afar.
"Who is Fabray?" She asked shutting the girl's locker in the process.
"I beg your pardon?"
"There's no need to beg, midget. Who is Fabray?"
"I have no idea. Let me point out to you that I don't map the school for its occupants even though I intend to make to everyone clear that I am an approachable and caring person. You might want to check the yearbook although if it is after all, an unknown student you cannot possibly assume he or she is in our grade or a transfer student, which highlight the fact neither I nor you recognize it. I would furthermore add that your rude behavior and the fact that you chose to openly talk to me even in this crowded hallway proves that whomever this individual might be, he or she might like to take cover and hide until your anger be more manageable. Remember what Mr. Schuster told you, deep breaths, and—"
"You lost me at 'no'" Santana pointed out and left, "I just figured it would be funny to see when is your face is going to be as blue as Finn's balls"

It seemed that her luck had run out on the subject of asking people. Like always, she would have to deal with it by herself. Like they say, if you want a job well done do it yourself. That is why Santana ditched her math class that day and stepped to the AP math class instead. Waiting a reasonable time after the bell rang Santana knocked on the door and stepped right in not waiting for a reply.
"There's an urgent phone call for Fabray in the main office. A family thing" she told the teacher who was just sitting by his desk as his students were solving a working sheet he handed them earlier. He glanced at her questionably than nodded.
"Fabray?" the man called out. Everyone stopped what they were doing and glanced around them, not sure at who to look. Suddenly, from one of the middle rows stood up a blonde girl. Everyone started to talk among themselves, whispering things the Latina couldn't hear, after a quick shush from the teacher, they all quitted down, the blonde gathered all of her things into a messenger bag with the Batman logo and the pair stepped out.

After a few seconds of silent walking in the direction of the main office, the girl made her first sound. "What is it that you really want? I know there's no phone call"
"How do you know?" Santana raised her eyebrow to look if the girl took the bait and believed there was, after all an emergency.
"Because there is no reason for any family member to call and inform me of any development, what ever might it have been my mother won't bother call, she would've wait to the end of the day or just come to pick me up"
"Okay smartass" Santana moved to grip the girl's elbow, but the over sized sweatshirt she was wearing misled the Latina and she only grabbed unto clothe. She moved her into the near bathroom, locking the door behind them she decided to give the girl a once-over. Her hoodie was gray and plain a pair of jeans held by a belt carrying the green-lantern logo I can't believe I fucking recognize this stupid symbol, Santana chastised herself. A pair of hikers' boots completed the look. By the looks of the girl's face she appeared to be very thin, the fact that the clothes hung on her baggily further proved this observation. Fabray had shoulder length blonde hair that used as a curtain to hide her from the world.

"What do you want?" Santana asked huffing.
"I figured you are the one looking for something. You did, after all took me to the bathroom. What do you want?"
"I want kick ass grades, you?"
"I don't see the connection…"
"You help me around, with your smart-particles I make sure you get what you want. So what is it? Want to be a Cheerio? To stop Slushy attacks? Have some football player rock your world? Bet Puck will do it, wouldn't need much persuasion either you look half decent, if you ignore all the dorkness you seem to scream like a fucking lighthouse," Fabray rises her head at the compliment and Santana seems to sink into the green-hazel eyes but puts on her bitch act and ignores the fact that the girl in front of her is more than 'half-decent'. "Glee club or some shit? Name it Fabray I don't have all fucking day"
"You don't even know my name, don't you?" The girl manages to harshly point out yet appear submissive, her voice small but confident, eyes averted yet hard stance. Instead of saying she doesn't care what her freaking name is, Santana chooses with a less offensive remark,
"No, but you're new or something"
"I've been at most of your elective classes since middle school," she points out, "for you, for now, it's Quinn. I imagine you'll ignore this fact and call me Fabray at best or some derogatory name at worst" she hops onto the counter, sitting next to the sink. "Whatever, I don't need anything from you, I'm already part of a club, no one bothers to slushy me, and football players aren't really my thing"
"Are you gay or something?" Santana sneered.
"Yes, are you?" Santana chose to ignore the question and continue on doing what she did best. Well, second best… Intimidate people into doing what she wants.
"Well, if you don't help me I'll make sure slushy-facials will be the first things to great you every morning. And seriously, telling me you're gay? You're just loading up my gun"
"That's the thing, Santana," She stands up and takes a step closer, "No one cares. No one knows who I am. Do you want me to tell you how many times Brittany introduced me to her cat? –It's been 7 times so far. No one remembers me, not the dumb jocks, not nerdy little glee-clubbers. I'm pretty sure the only person that recognizes me is Ms. Pillsbury. Technically I'm loading up your gun with blanks"
"That metaphor has gone all sexual now. So, your point being is you want to stay inviso-girl, that's cool. I can make it happen, or else, I can just, like, hang lots and lots of your pictures at the boys' locker rooms and bathrooms, see how you'll manage than. So all you have to do is help me around in math and English homework and before tests and shit"
"You want me to tutor you? Is that what this all about? You're really bad at asking for help, you know that?"
"Plus, I want you to text me answers if I'm having trouble during exams"
"So I'm rising my price. 20 bucks for each 'A'—"
"15"
"Whatever, and you have to go out on jogs with me twice a week"
"Listen Danny Phantom, you teaching me doesn't make us BFF s with hearts and rainbow-popping unicorns in the background"
"You need to pass math, I need to pass PE"
"Sure, what ever, deal," the girls shake hands, "come over to my place at 4 today"
"I work until 6. I can make it by 7"
"Good, do you know where I live?" The brunette scoffs and crosses her arms.
"You live 5 blocks away, I think I'll manage"
"Geez, stocker much?"
"Only when you leave your curtains open" Quinn strides to the door, unlocking it while the other girl stares at her slack jawed, "learn to take a joke wonder-woman."

"What the fuck just happened?" Santana asks herself.

Santana was smiling widely, a thing most considered a warning for something bad to happen. Although, that day, the reason for her good mood was much more innocent then an elaborated prank Puck tries to pull off. Today Santana was in cloud 9 because she had a great feeling about the test she just finished. While most of the class was groaning in desperation, staring into space for inspiration or just playing with their pens in annoyance Santana just aced it. The loser's teaching methods seemed to play their magic and now the Latina was almost skipping on her way to her own locker, installing the fear in the hearts of every student she passed on her way with the display of joy. She was almost humming when she reached to open her locker when a piece of paper fell from the inside.
'I gather that the test went well,
you didn't even texted me
x Flash x'
She chuckled to herself when she recognized the name she used as a signature as one of a superhero and decided to ask the blonde later why she chose that one in particular.
"Why are you all sunny, Sanny?" Brittany asked from behind her. "Hi, that rhymed"
"I think I got an A on my English test" and the blonde hugs her, celebrating the joy.
"That's so wonderful! You know what else is wonderful? Coach S told me she moved the photo-shot for the school paper and yearbook for today, so we don't have practice"
"That's awesome, Britt" Santana agrees and tightens her hug before letting go.
"And I asked Mr. Schuster and he said he scheduled the pictures to next month"

The day flow by and by the end of her last lesson Santana was ready for the shot. She walked to the field and saw Brittany on the bleachers talking to someone who had their back to her. There was a big camera strapped to their side, and Santana could tell Brittany was excited because her hands flailed around as she talked. A second later the dancer gestured her widely to come over and the photographer looked behind her. Santana recognized her face and walked up the stairs to join the conversation.
"Sanny, did you know there was a photography club in the school?" Brittany asked.
"I had no idea" she said as she subtly checked out Quinn who looked engrossed suddenly in her camera, playing with the strap. She was wearing a similar looking hoodie to the one she was wearing the day they officially met only now in crimson, a pair of jeans and black wool-had.
"That's our photographer. She said she's the same grade as us, and I told her she should come with us to feed ducks because she probably looks like a hottie beneath all of the baggy stuff and that she should meet Lord Tubbington"
"8th time" Quinn whispers under her breath so only Santana can hear. The brunette laughs at this but is quick to hide it away.
"Come on Britt, we should get down to the field before coach gets mad" Brittany obeys and bounds down the stairs. "I get the name now. Flash, because of the camera, right?" All Quinn does is raising her eyebrow and moves her zoom. "Aren't you more of a spidey, though?"
"I'm also fast, Linda Park, you better join to your friends, I need to finish up in here" Santana didn't caught the reference but she listened to the advice, mainly because Brittany was eyeing her suspiciously and the coach was emerging with her bullhorn. She had a great idea for when the photographer comes to the glee club.

"Can you concentrate for a minute?" Quinn asked her. It was Wednesday afternoon, and like every week for the past two months Quinn came over to teach the Latina English. She was reading her a short story, explaining some of the metaphors it possessed, but that day Santana's head was in another place.
"No. Brittany had been canceling our sexy-time sessions for the past week to be with her Tron and I'm horny"
"Do you love her?" Quinn asks.
"No. I mean yes. I mean. I love her, but I don't love-love her. Do you get what I mean?" Santana was lying on her bed, staring into the ceiling hands behind her head.
"Well, yes. I think so"
"When we met, you told me I can call you Quinn 'for now'. What'd you mean?"
"What's with the sudden change of subject?" Quinn placed the text book and moved to lie on the bed next to the cheerleader.
"I try not to think about my sexual frustration. Weirdo story equals distraction. Geez, and to think you're the genius teaching me math"
"Okay, well, aside with the offensive remark I guess you can call me Charlie now"
"Charlie?"
"Well, yeah. Charlie. Quinn is the name teachers' use that or Fabray. The one my parents call me and stuff. My co-workers at Bread-stix and the photo-shop call me Charlie, Ms. Pillsbury call me Charlie too"
"You have too many names" Santana concludes. "Wait a minute. You work at Bread-stix?!"
"Yeah. Well, I worked there. I served you like, a dozen times over summer break. You have crappy memory but you do like shrimps, don't you?"
Ignoring her comment, "So how do I call you, Flash or Charlie?"
"I can't believe you're letting me choose. I can just imagine you walk to Berry asking her if she prefers to be Treasure-trail or Yoda"
"Oh, out of those two she's defiantly Yoda. It has to do with the fact I can't understand a shit she says"
"Ah, the dilemmas you face. Come on, back to English Lit." She tries to get up for the book but Santana grasps her forearm and pulls her down to the bed. "What?"
"There's no way I can concentrate on English!"
Charlie huffs, "if I'll help you would you go back to study?" Santana's eyes widen in surprise. Charlie doesn't wait for a reply and leans in and starts peppering open mouth kisses on her neck. Her hands started caressing Santana's hips trailing upwards, ending at the underside of her breast.
Santana's eyes shut. "W-What are you doing?" She stammered out.
"Getting you off" Charlie whispered into her ear. "Tell me if you want me to stop" When no answer came Charlie continued, her gentle fingers smoothly running their course over her body. She nipped at Santana's pulse point groaning slightly. Santana lets out a throaty moan of her own, her back arches up. Charlie's hands move to her back where her Cheerio's shirt zipper is, moving it down slowly, never abandoning the other girl's neck. Santana's shirt is thrown to some direction and Charlie latches to the girl's breasts through the fabric of her bra. The Cheerleader's breath is caught and her fingers sink into soft blonde hair. Charlie's hand trails downward to the elastic band of the skirt and spanks, pulling it down. Her kisses trail down too she takes a moment to tease her belly button. She leaves enticing kisses wherever her fingers land, a trail of fire runs through Santana as her heart beats wildly. She realizes that she is there, only in bra and panties laying ready and wet for the most unknown person Lima has ever created, and she feels better than ever. Better her times shared with Puck or Finn. Even better than the many times she was with Brittany. And she shivers in anticipation when Charlie attentively kisses her thighs, and pulls down her drenched underwear. And when her tongue penetrates her she places her hand on the photographer's head begging; begging for release, begging for her never to stop. -Begging for Charlie.

The after glow is amazing; having three orgasms had tired her. She lays there, eyes closed. Her bed shifts and Santana knows that Charlie is there by her side. When she peeks to here side she catches the girl wiping the corner of her mouth with the palm of her hand. And than she realizes that Charlie is fully dressed. And that they never kissed. So she tugs the girl's sleeve to draw her nearer. With Brittany they made sure not to make it fully detached, even if they never said it aloud because they were still best friends after all not just fuck buddies.
"What are you doing?" Charlie asks.
"Well," Santana answers and her voice is slightly gruff from yelling earlier. "I was thinking you had way too much clothes on for me to return a favor". Charlie blinks slowly, as if trying to understand what was going on.
"There's no need" she says finally.
"B-but…" Santana can't believe she's reduced to stuttering. "So is this a one time deal?"
"No. If you ever need help or something, you can call me or whatever. I don't mind"

"Why do you exactly need me for?" Santana asked after their 4th lap around the Latina's block.
"I told you, I need help passing PE" she reasoned.
"But this is not like English or some shit, you don't really need my help with running"
"Well, I might need some lesson, because a few months ago this girl with anger management problem just passed next to me to the girl in the locker next door and starts looking for me." Santana's face showed that she realized exactly whose locker is next to Quinn's. "Now, my locker neighbor –who's a total snooze-fest worthy, told her to take deep breaths to relax and the angry one didn't. So I think that instead of 'taking cover and hide until her anger is more manageable' -I'll just run"
"I can't believe you!" Santana playfully punched her shoulder, "you listened to that fucking rant and let me look around for you!"
"And I kept waiting to see if you'd recognize me but you just, I don't know, blocking any memories of that awfully long speech so I was waiting for the right moment and see your reaction"
"Is that your way of asking me to encourage you to run faster? Because I will chase you down with a hose. You know me, I can rolls that way"
"What do you have against grammar?"
"What do you have against working out alone? You don't even need help you're running fast"
"Told you I was Flash and not Peter Parker. But was that a compliment that slipped through those pouty lips?"
"Stop deflecting"
"Well, my parents don't want me to go running alone anymore. Said I should stop or find a female friend to go with me"
"A female friend?"
"Yes, a female friend. They're Christians, they don't trust me being alone all, panting and sweaty, things bouncing with a boy. Not that I have a lot of things to bounce"
"Well, after your help the other day they shouldn't trust you alone with females either. And I bet you have something underneath all of this fabric" Santana pointed at the light green hoodie Charlie had on. Charlie stopped herself, it took Santana a few seconds to realize it happened, but finally she jogged backwards at the scowling face of the girl she came to know as friend.
"Santana, I respect the fact you act like I'm Casper the imaginary ghost whenever we're around other people, so please respect the fact you can't tell anyone about my sexuality, god forbid I have one"
"Whatever. Come on, one more lap and than my mom said she'll make us dinner"

The girls re-entered the house, the previous serious discussion was left.
"You must be the famous Charlie," Mrs. Lopez enveloped the girl in a hug. "Santana said you've been helping her with math and English. It's so wonderful to meet you"
"It's nice to meet you Mrs. Lopez, you have a lovely house"
"Why, thank you dearie. Are you joining us for dinner?"
"Sorry, I can't. I need to go home and take a shower"
"Oh, don't be ridicules. Shower here. I bet some of Sanny's clothes will fit you properly"
"Thank you Mrs. Lopez, but I'd hate to impose"
"It's no bother. Go upstairs, and Sanny will take out something for you to wear"
"Come on Flash, I'll lead you to the bathroom"

The next few seconds are embarrassing. Santana hands her over a white towel as Charlie opens the tap to check the water's temperature. When the cheerleader showed no signs of leaving Charlie stared at her and cleared her throat. She had managed to avoid communal showers for years- she just ran a few extra laps after gym classes and snuck in at the end of the day, usually when the Cheerios were practicing to ensure she had privacy. Santana finally gave up but not before rolling her eyes and scoffing something in Spanish.

She took off her hoodie as soon as the door closed the white wife-beater she had underneath drenched with sweat. Her hands were littered with scars. The ones closer to her wrists were from her previous suicide attempt. The others were the result of her father's fury. Belts, knives the occasional glass shreds. -Her father wasn't particularly picky when it came to weapons of discipline, and she had grown accustomed of hiding it, especially because of hanging out with Ms. Pillsbury for many hours. Luckily the fact she had no friends were busying the consular enough but not too much as to call the blonde's parents.
She took off the sweat-pants she had on and examined the latest purple bruises on her thighs, the hand print he left on when he grabbed her more forcefully. She had learnt to give up a long time ago. When she fought the cuffs he loved so much, they cut into her skin and left even more marks. She stood out under the water, hoping they will wash away the hatred she had.
The hatred she felt towards herself, that the only good thing she could ever do was to disappear into a crowed, the way she let people ignore her the way she gives up without a fight, the fear her father left in her, the motionless way her mother would turn up the valium of the prize show whenever her husband will drag her daughter to the bedroom, taking off the belt for two reasons, each as sickening as the other. Hate towards Santana that kept looking at her with those hopeful yet feisty eyes every time she would go down on her, the way she smiles encouragingly whenever Charlie is being unnaturally sassy, even if she doesn't notice and threat to go ' all Lima heights' with no conviction in her tone.
Charlie scrubbed her skin in anger. She hopes that the clothes Santana will hand her will cover her up and that she won't be there when she has to dress because she isn't sure the towel covers her back, where white lines are the permanent reminder she have that she is a failure and disappointment to her father, and not to mention her arms that are exposed. The scars she had imposed on herself, in a dire attempt to end it all, a year earlier on Christmas' break. She even thought she had succeeded when her father's attacks stopped the week her mother found her on the kitchen floor, only to discover that he only waited for her to be well enough to survive her punishment for her attempted 'escape'. They never brought her to the hospital, only bandaged her up and watered her like a dying plant. Another reminders for that was her parents new laws like not taking pills (Santana was shell-shocked when she told her she can't take the aspirin the cheerleader offered when her head hurt), she was only allowed to touch the kitchen knives when she had to clean them, the confiscation of her pocket knife and music player -her father was certain the idea came from the music she was hearing. He told her that Rock was the devil's work and that he wants her to rebel (another law Santana came upon discovering). And her last reminder of her pathetic way to disobey god's laws was the weird shape of her rib after he beat her up with a baseball bat. It was poking at her skin in an awkward angle and it took her a while to get adjusted to it, it hurt her in the beginning but now she was breathing deeply as before.

She stepped out and wrapped the towel snuggly around herself, thanking god she was slightly short so the towel covered the beginning of the bruising on her thighs. Luckily Santana wasn't in the room when she stepped in, and there were clothes lying on the bed. The purple shorts were way too short for her taste and comfort and so was the black shirt but she preferred to wear them in the favor of the brunette stepping inside of her room when Charlie was only clad wearing a towel. She thanked god twice (for good measure) her father was out of town that day and that it was Wednesday- the day her mother went to her house-wife club where she would drink, drive home narrowly missing hitting stuff (or driving on the sidewalk) only to drink some more. Usually, Charlie would go to her work at the photo-store, drive home in a different route than her mother used and lock herself in her barren room until her mother passed out and take care of her.

Throughout the meal at the Lopez house, Santana's mother kept glancing worriedly at her exposed hands, a frown permanent in her features and Charlie begins to fear the woman doesn't want her daughter to befriend someone that harmed himself, but the warmth and care when she talks to Charlie is nothing like the false charade her parents put up. Santana keeps glancing at Charlie, appreciating the view now that her selection of clothes allows clear sight. Charlie does have 'bouncing' material (not as much as her, but had more than enough) and her legs are strong which explains the constant running.
"So what are you planning to do in the future? Do you have any sights for University?"
"I'm actually working on my portfolio to get into art school"
"Oh, I would love to see some of your works" Mrs. Lopez continued with her investigation, "What classes do you share with Tana?"
"We were at the same home-room all of middle school and now we have together Spanish and PE" Santana quirks her eyebrow, discovering this information for the first time. She usually looks around to see who shares her class since meeting the blonde, but those are the two classes she is out of it. Spanish is just too boring for her to pay attention to and in PE she is doing stuff for Sue. -Mostly making the weak, new or disrespectful cheerleaders running suicides. Charlie somehow managed to perfect the art of being unnoticeable to the tea, and Santana kept asking herself how no one seems to remember the smart and good-looking Charlie Fabray.

Everyone was too busy fighting with each other as they put on their costumes for the official photo to notice Charlie entering the room. There was only one person sitting aside the commotion and he was just watching his friends "helping" each other with the ties or demanding to replace articles of clothing.
"Excuse me, is this the glee club?" Charlie approached the Asian boy she recognized from the football team photo day.
"Hmm… Umm, sorry, didn't see you there. Yes, are you from the photography club?" He eyed her. A small glint of recognition hit him. The girl was with him on his AP classes, but for the god of him he couldn't remember her name. "I'm Mike Chang"
"Quinn Fabray, but you can call me Charlie" she smiled, the guy seemed nice and polite, he always helped people when they asked him in class. And unlike the other football players he wasn't a Neanderthal "I'm actually the only member of the photography club. It's cheaper than paying a professional photographer. Are… Are they going to take long getting ready or…? Or are they going to yell at each other some more?" At that exact moment Rachel yelled at Puck to stop leering.
"Oh, you haven't seen anything yet. Santana's running late, so the more racist comments and names are still not thrown" Quinn smiled knowingly. She had been meeting with the girl for lessons and had heard several phone calls she had with other people. Let's just say that Charlie's vocabulary has extended.
"Is that the Superman logo?" Mike gestured at her belt buckle and she smiled nodding.
"Uh-huh, I like superman, although he's not my favorite superhero"
"That's cool, I'm more of an X-men kind of guy anyway"
"Oh, they're good, I'm crossed between them and Batman. The Joker and Harley Queen are probably one of the greatest villains ever invented"
"You know what would be, like, the coolest, most awesome thing ever? -If the X-Men would fight them. I know it's impossible with the whole DC vs. Marvel thing, but…"
"Yeah, I know. Which team?"
-"I'm guessing the astonishing team, but before Kitty died"
"Oh, wow, the astonishing team is the greatest. Whedon and Cassaday are so good together"

"Okay, let's snap this shot, I've gots my solo that I want to sing" Santana marched into the room with the usually late Mr. Schuster.
"Wow, Santana, I like your spirit. Are you guys ready?"
A mumble of 'yes' was sounded, except for Artie who was trying to tie desperately his shoe lace. Quinn swiftly leaned down and tied it for the boy than got up and arranged the position for the picture.
"Hurry up Flash" Santana, "What are you trying to make us do? Reenact a scene from Scott Pilgrim? Just take the photo, no-one cares about this club anyway"
Nobody said anything and Quinn kept directing, making the final adjustments.

"You may want stick around for this one. You might learn where epic is born" Santana told the photographer after she finished. The members of the club took their seats and Santana pulled from her backpack the notes, holding for electric guitar player. Santana gave him the cue to start and winked at Quinn;

(Spidey's curse- Black Lips)

Peter Parker's life is so much darker than the book I read
'cause he was defenseless, so defenseless when he was a kid.
It's your body, no one's body, but yours anyways.
So Peter Parker don't let him mark you, its so much darker
don't let him touch you, he don't have to stay!
Don't fill a spider up with dread.

Spidey's got powers, he takes all of the cowards,
and he kills them dead.
But when he was younger, an elder among him messed him in the head.
So Peter Parker don't let him mark you, its so much darker
don't let him touch you, he don't have to stay!

The teacher looked at everyone with a PSA
She saw that our hearts were gone
She saw that in everyone!

Peter Parker's life is so much darker.
Better tell him, man,
'cause it's your body, no one's body, but yours anyways.
So Peter Parker don't let him mark you, its so much darker
don't let him touch you, he don't have to stay!
Don't fill a spider up with dread.
Don't fill a spider up with dread.
Don't fill a spider up with dread.

"Santana, you are aware that this week's theme is acceptance, right?" Mr. Schue asks after the claps were over. No matter how good the version sounded (although he didn't know how the original sounded so he had nothing to compare this to) he needed everyone to stay on topic.
"Yes, and accept that there are geeks in the world. Some of them are down right hot. Like Parker, with his camera, and the upside down kiss, and his tongue. Some geeks have great tongues and I accept that. I welcome it actually" Santana strides to her sit, passing next to a petrified Charlie. But the sexual comment wasn't what made her afraid.

-It seemed no-one took notice, no one paid attention to the song's true meaning (well maybe Rachel, but that girl was probably wondering if what Santana said had something to do with Finn), no one but Charlie. And it struck close to home. She maybe wasn't Spiderman, but she was the Spiderman from the song. She still is.

Santana was lying in her bed, still hazed after Charlie helped her out again. Ever since the dinner the two shared with her mom, Charlie allowed herself to roll up her sleeves whenever they were alone and she felt hot. Santana pressed circles to the body snuggled next to her, she had long ago stopped trying to return the favor to the blonde, and felt half natural being naked and spent next to her fully clothed friend. Her hand passed for the second time against the lines carved in the other girl's hand.
"Why did you do it?" She whispered.
"Last year on Christmas" Charlie said, not really answering the question. Santana waited for her to continue but when only silence greeted her, her infamous impatience stroked.
"But why did you do it?"
"I was bad" –and tried to stop my punishment. Santana just listened, figuring her blonde friend was in a bad place. "I just kept trying and no matter what I did wasn't good enough" It was still like that. Her father will always find out about her wrong doings. That's why she wasn't that frightened of spending time with Santana, he'll punish her for something in the end of the day so she might as well do something she wasn't allowed to. Like save up money for the day she turns 18 and can get away, or letting people (Santana) see some of her scars accidently, keeping personal items in the storage room her grandma had given her before she died, working out so she might hit back one day. It all summed up to the fact that Charlie was rebelling in the best way she could think of. She could only imagine how broken her body will be if one of her parents will discover their daughter is taking part in sexual activities with another girl.
Santana raised the blonde's hand, placing a soft kiss over the white scars.

Emma was busy straightening the stapler on her desk after she used it to staple perfectly straight pages with a nicely straight pin that paralleled the top corner of said pages. She was just about to retract the roller she was measuring the distance with when there was a very loud knock on the glass door.
"Come in" she said, her soft smile turning to a little frown when she recognized the girl that caused so many students to approach her. – A one Santana Lopez. "How can I help you Santana?" She had heard the horror stories about the terror the queen bee had enforced in the hallways, both from students and some from Will. The girl walked inside, closing the door.
"Do I need an appointment or something?" She huffed, tapping her foot thus diverting the consular's attention.
"No, there's no need. I'm always here to help you or anyone" Santana just nodded and took the sit.
"This is about Charlie"
"I'm sorry, you will have to be more specific"
"Charlie Fabray, the one woman club?"
"Is something wrong with her? I wasn't aware that the two of you knew each other"
"Yeah, she's been tutoring me since the beginning of the semester and we're tight right now"
"Oh, that's good, Charlie's main problem was always making friends"
"Yeah, whatever" Santana said dismissively. Charlie told her that beside herself Ms. Pillsbury was the closest person she has as a friend, but it appears the woman knew nothing about the blonde. "You can't repeat anywhere the shit I tell you here, right? Like a patient-therapist confidentiality?"
"Unless it's not risking the lives of people I will not discuss the things said in this room"
"Great, so, I'm having a problem with Charlie, whenever we sleep together she wouldn't let me touch her. And I mean, look at me, I'm a fine piece of ass, why wouldn't she want to tap that? So I'm here so you'll tell me how to de-crazy Flash before I'll yell at her or rip off the clothes off of her."
"Oh, wow" Emma was taken back from the information thrust upon her harshly. The Latina didn't even pause for breathe. "I wasn't aware of neither of your sexual orientations" Santana quirked an eyebrow.
"Are you kidding me? That's a girl you spend like an hour a day for almost two years. A girl under your care as a student who is having trouble coming out to her fucking parents and you can't even spot it as a consular? This shit is priceless"
"Excuse me Santana but I will have to ask you to watch your language while you're in my office"
"Sorry, Ms. Pillsbury, but you have to admit the irony here. She told me you know her best"
"Well, I think that's the problem with Charlie. That no one really knows what's going on behind those green eyes, and as much as I'd like to know much myself, sadly there is a point where teenagers stop trusting figures in authority positions. You yourself had questioned if I'll tell someone of the conversation topic before you said anything and from what I've heard you are quit an outspoken young lady" Santana nodded, understandingly.
"So can we get back to topic? What exactly can I do to, you know, check that booty?"
"Well, she might be waiting for a more meaningful relationship before she decides to give herself to you, which I encourage. Have you two gone out for a date?"
"No, but we spend, like, a lot of time together, and she hadn't come out to her parents, and they have this crazy shit load of scary rules for her so I'm not sure it would be welcomed"
"Do you share deep conversations or do you keep things casual?" Emma asked as she switching her eyes between two broachers: 'I Think I Fell for My Tutor' and 'Dealing with Sexual Incompetence'.
"Both, she helps me study, and sometime she, like makes a nerdy reference and tells me about a movie or a book or a comic when I don't get it. She also answers me when she can't do stuff because of her parents."
"Have she ever tried to dodge a question?" Emma pushed on, now out of her own interest.
"Well, she saw this geeky belt in the comic book store, with signs of some language from some movie or something and when I suggested she'd buy it, I even was willing to pay for it, she said she wasn't allowed to wear new belts" Emma nodded for her to continue. She remembered the blonde's usual attire; a plain one colored hoodie, hikers' boots and baggy jeans held by an old belt that seemed to almost tear out in any moment. "When I asked why she didn't answer. I just guessed it was because of the, you know, who-ho" Santana whistled as she did a cutting gesture against her wrist, to which the red-head frowned. A new belt could carry the weight of a hanged body, as opposed to a worn out one that would snap.
"What?" she asked, her eyes wider than people thinking possible. "Had Charlie attempted killing herself?" Santana had eyed the woman with a glare. That most be the crappiest consular the world had known.
"Are you fucking with me?" She asked disbelieving.
"Now I do have to report some of the context of this conversation and have sessions with Charlie" The woman said.
"If that's all you care about you have nothing to worry, it was almost two years ago according to Chuck, so she's okay now"
"Santana, I do care about her. That's the thing. You don't realize what you've got. To gain Charlie's trust is not a matter of simply asking her what's wrong. I'll talk with her next club meeting, don't worry I won't say you mentioned anything. If I see anything suspicious I will alert her parents"
"They know of the attempt"
"Okay, but I would like to talk with them if I see one of the signs for future self harm"
"Deal." Santana got up, "and there's no way I'm taking any of this flyers, Charlie is not my tutor she's my friend, and I'm beyond competent. Just ask 5 seconds Hudson"

Santana spotted Charlie's scooter mainly because of the sticker saying 'Dingoes Ate my Baby' on its side. She had never visited the girl's house but had a vague idea where it was supposed to be. It's not like there are a lot of Fabray families in Lima.
The finals were just over, and the two only met before the math test and even than not a lot was said beyond the learning. Santana had a sick feeling in her stomach. Charlie was quieter than usual, and she spotted her crying in the school's bathroom once or twice. It had gotten to the point she caught her friend standing outside the school's nurse's office, having no guts to enter. Santana wanted to step to her and ask what's wrong but she didn't. First of all, they were in a crowded hallway and second, Charlie ran away like a scared bunny when she saw her. Santana took a deep breath and parked her car, stepping into the small porch. She cleared her throat and knocked on the door. It didn't take a long time for the door to open, and there stood an older version of the familiar blonde.
"May I help you?" The woman asked and Santana could have sworn she smelled the faint odor of alcohol in the woman's breath.
"Hello, I'm here to meet C- Quinn" she corrected herself when she remembered that Quinn was the name her parents called her. The woman eyed her up and down and Santana was relieved she had worn the long Cheerio shirt that morning after noting the slight disapproval in the woman's eyes.
"Quinn, you have a guest, Honey" Mrs. Fabray called behind her shoulder; there is no affection behind the word 'honey', just obligation. There was the sound of footsteps and there stood Charlie, clearly confused. The only person her parents had considered her friend was the 10 year old son of their reverent. Her eyes widened, almost comically when she saw Santana at her door step, next to her mother.
"Hello Samantha, how are you today?" She reached over and shaken the other girl's hand Santana only quirked her eyes at the use of a different name. "Mother, this is the friend I was telling you about, Samantha." Her mother nodded, she didn't really care who the guest was.
"The one your math teacher had asked you to tutor?"
"Yes mother"
"Well, you better go up to your room, I'll get you snacks" a look of concern flashed Charlie but she nodded and walked up, Santana at her toes.

"Samantha, the girl your math teacher had asked you to tutor?" Santana had hissed loudly as soon as they were behind the closed door of Charlie's room, than she looked around her, "What the hell? Is this your room?"
"Yes" Charlie answered, her hand going through her hair in a nervous trait.
"Why do you have an outside lock in your door?" Santana asked, opening the door and noticing a chain that is also locked only from outside.
"Oh, it's been like this when we bought the house" Charlie lied smoothly. "Listen, my parents are kind of racist, so I told them your name is Samantha"
"Oh," was the only thing that came out as an answer.
"Yeah, oh" Charlie said, "Santana, I thought we talked about this, why are you here?"

Before the Latina could answer the door swung open and Mrs. Fabray came in holding a tray carrying some tasteless looking cookies and two cups of tea. "Here you go, darlings. Have fun, oh, and Quinn, honey, your father is staying at the office today"
"Thank you mother" the door closes but not fully, as to alert the girls someone might be listening.
"How did you do on your finals?" Charlie asks, raising the cup to her lips.
"Oh, they were good. How are you feeling?"
Charlie squinted her eyes, "I'm great. The exams were easy and I'm certain I passed PE, thank you for asking"
"So…" there is a small awkward silence, not a thing that is common between the two friends. "Can you drop by my place tomorrow after the English final?"
"Sure, that'd be great Sam" she says just in case her mother walks by. Santana looks around herself. The bookshelf only contains an encyclopedia and school books, she wondered where are all the books and comic-books Charlie had talked about. There is one drawer that seemed too small to contain any important possessions, on the wall above her bed is a wooden cross and next to it a Christmas family photo with stiff bodies and forced smiles. There is a wooden closet and a window. Charlie fidgets in her seat when Santana takes in her surroundings.
"You have a lovely home" she lets out eventually and they both know it's not a sincere comment.
"Thank you"
"Well, I better go. I'll see you tomorrow." She says, and later adds "at school"
"I'll walk you to the door" They get out of the room, Santana says some words of politeness she whipped out of her ass quickly and disappeared to her car. Something really wrong is going on in the Fabray family.

"You can't just show up at my house!" Charlie yelled, not caring if Mr. or Mrs. Lopez were at home or not. Santana never heard her voice this loud before, "What if my dad was there?"
"What's the deal with your folks?" Santana asked taking her stance of folded arms and a look taunting in hopes that the blonde would spill her guts. Unfortunately the photographer was too busy pacing.
"You're not listening! I told you to never come to my house and you just decide to drop by, not even a phone call to warn me. You didn't listen, because you got so used to everyone doing whatever you want without a second glance. I asked you for one thing and—"
"I didn't listen?" Santana asked, feigning interest in her fingernails, "Yeah, you said that already. What's the story with your parents? I hear about this rules you have, you lie to them, don't even think of pretending you don't hide away money and shit from them. What's the deal? What's going on?" She's back on attack.
"Nothing. Nothing is going on" She says quickly. She stops at her tracks and picks up her backpack, "You're done using my services, right? Artie is away so Brittany is here to give you 'sweet lady kisses' and the year is almost over so you don't need my 'smart-particles' for a while. See you September 1st" Charlie walks out of the room, and Santana later hear the slam of the front door.
And Santana doesn't follow. She doesn't follow or visit or walk by her house or work place. She doesn't even call.