So here it is, the epilogue. This is the last chapter of this story, and I just wanted to say a HUGE thank you to everyone that's been reading it. I really hope you enjoyed it, I've loved writing it and loved hearing all of your feedback on it. So just a massive thank you!

She never managed to return for the bodies.

The state decided that for everyone's safety, it was best for Lima to be destroyed. To burn out the infection, as it were. But at this stage, what was one more broken promise?

Santana and Puck had climbed to the top of a grassy dune in the forest to sit side-by-side and watch as the military swarmed their town with flame-throwers, starting from the centre and spreading out until the whole of Lima was engulfed in flames, a thick tower of smoke and ash rising up to the clouds. Helicopters circled the area, dropping huge amounts of water when the fire began spreading across the fields. The woods had been officially declared safe after various groups of troops had been sent out daily to eliminate any existing threats.

It took six months to repair the damage of one week. And that was before they started re-building the town.

Temporary housing had been built in the surrounding fields, small flat-pack huts being erected almost overnight by anyone who was able-bodied enough to help. Santana had been excused after what doctors were calling her 'traumatic experience'.

They had asked if Rachel and Brittany's parents wanted to join them, but both sets of parents declined, choosing to do their mourning in private. Santana understood. Once she was watching everything she loved burn, a small part of her wished she had decided to come alone. But it would have been unfair to deny Puck his grief, after all they were his friends, too. He had broken the news to Finn's mother as soon as Santana told him what had happened. He needed this almost as much as she did.

She felt a little too exposed for comfort. Not that she was too self-conscious to cry. She had already done her grieving; there were very few tears left. They were infrequent, and consistently took her by surprise. There were no triggers, she didn't cry herself to sleep every night. They would just sneak up on her like a thief in the night, when she least expected it.

The boy had sneaked two bottles of beer with them, the two clinking their bottles together as the flames rose higher into the air, a silent salute to their lost peers. Eventually Santana had flopped back onto the grass, the sun beating down on her skin as she gazed up at the smoky sky. As they inevitably did whenever she was partaking in a quiet moment, her thoughts turned to Quinn. The curve of her smile, her hazel eyes. The way she giggled, her golden blonde hair. The startlingly bright red of her blood on Tina's linoleum kitchen floor.

Swallowing, she closed her eyes for a moment before taking a deep breath and pushing herself into a sitting position once more.

Eventually the days became weeks, and the weeks became months.

Time passed, and the vivid details of her memories faded into an aching blur. One that she did not choose to dwell on.

They moved to the next town, along with most of the residents of Lima, including Puck's family, the Berrys, Mr and Mrs Pierce and Finn's mom, Carol. It seemed the only people to benefit from what the media called 'The Patient-429 Pandemic' were the Ohio property developers. Santana eventually decided to stay, after much deliberation. It had always been a promise that she, Quinn and Brittany would leave Ohio in search of a more exciting life. Maybe New York, maybe travelling, maybe just college. But now, everything she knew was here, and she no longer had a desire to discover a new and inspiring lifestyle.

So she stayed living in Ohio and found herself a part-time job in Ohio, and went to college in Ohio.

But as hard as she tried, she knew, realistically, that she would never be the same. Her mom had convinced her to join a club when she got to college, but she quickly discovered that she wasn't quite cut out for the knitting club, rowing club, the girls' soccer team or…well, any of the other clubs. It turned out that she wasn't the most appropriate individual when playing ice-breaker games, panicking when it was her turn and announcing to the group, "Hi, my name is Santana and I shot my girlfriend in the back of the head on the second day of The Patient-429 Pandemic."

They had stared at her for a solid forty seconds before she gave up on waiting for a response, picking up her bag and walking straight out of the door without another word. She felt it made more sense to be upfront about it. If she was going to befriend these people, it was inevitable that they would find out eventually. Might as well make a scene and take a few moments of enjoyment at their expressions before the awkwardness developed into a painful silence.

So now she was also socially inept, as well as viciously bitchy and completely lacking in empathy, as she always had been. What did she care? The only people who had ever got it, the ones who had brushed off her sarcasm and rolled their eyes; all three of them were gone now. Even Rachel had got it. Fucking Berry, for Christ's sake. And she couldn't find any particular desire to replace them. Or rather to find new best friends.

One day the months turned into years, and the years passed her by, and she learnt to live with the hand she'd been dealt. She began singing again, and socialising in a way that didn't make everyone around her instantly uncomfortable and/or leave the room. Including herself.

She kept singing, as Rachel would have wanted.
Kept dancing, and Brittany would have wanted.
And kept smiling, as Quinn would have wanted.