They found her diary. Her stupid diary that she knows was a mistake to keep, but still: her mother read her diary.

How much of an invasion of privacy is that! Santana kicks the sidewalk angrily, pulling her arms around herself to shelter herself from the cold. At least Quinn got to pack things. Santana is out on her ass with no way of contacting Brittany–he dad knocked her cell phone out of her hand before she fled–and no spare change of clothes.

It's not like it's raining, but a cold wind has picked up and Santana's wearing nothing but her thin sleeping shirt–one that Puck left at her house–and a pair of dark jeans. She feels tears spilling down her cheeks and wipes them away, furious. She's Santana Lopez, she fights tears; but this is worse than Vocal Adrenaline vandalizing their choir room or showing up in their auditorium, and it's worse than Sue Sylvester cancelling Cheerio's practice for a week straight.

Her parents called her a freak; an abomination. Her mom had laughed when she'd pleaded, begged her to reconsider, and then her dad had lifted his hand and come at her, so she'd fled. It's total bullshit, and Santana bends to pick up a rock and hurls it; she hears a window break and is in a sprint before she knows she's decided to run.

She runs until she's at Brittany's, and then she sits against the door and bangs her head against it; she knows it's no use, because Brittany's gone on vacation and her parents don't like Santana anyway. She falls asleep, slumped against the side of the house, and when she wakes it's to a car backfiring near ten in the evening.

She sighs; drops her head onto her knees.

She knows what her only option is–she has no friends so who else is there, really?–so she stands, rubbing the bruise that's forming on her wrist from where her dad dragged her down the stairs. She knows vaguely where Kurt's house is, so she wanders around the neighbourhood until she spots his Navigator in the driveway.

It's nearly ten thirty now, and it's one thing to show up at somebody's house unannounced, but she's hardly friends with Kurt and it's late; the lights on in the living room signal that somebody is awake, and it's such a relief she feels tears pricking her tired eyes again.

She stands outside for a long time, watching the television light flicker in the window. When the lights go out, she panics, sprinting up the walk and hammering on the door before she has time to think about it.

Kurt's dad opens the door; he looks like a typical dad, kind of like hers, except he's bald and his eyes are pale and friendly, like Kurt's.

She stammers; she has no idea what to say, and she barely manages an "Uh, hi..." before she's crying much too hard to speak, let alone coherently. She screws her eyes shut and her hair falls forward as she cries, and then a strong arm is wrapping around her shoulder and pulling her into the house.

His body is sure, guiding her to the table and wrapping a blanket around her, but his voice is uncertain, worried, "Alright, sweetheart, you just stay here, okay?" She can't even nod, she just wraps her arms around herself, tugging the blanket tighter, and he nods to himself, patting her on the shoulder, "I'm going to go get Kurt."

She remains unaware of what's happening around her.

She hears somebody making tea behind her and a woman's voice says, "Here you go," and for a minute, she's confused because she's pretty sure Kurt's mom is dead, and then she remembers: Finn and his mom are living with the Hummels now.

Somebody sits next to him and Kurt's quiet voice cuts through her hitching breaths–she hasn't cried this hard since she was twelve–and a tentative hand rests on her upper arm, "Santana, what's wrong?"

She's thankful that he doesn't ask if everything's alright, because no, nothing is ever going to be okay again, "My parents kicked me out."

Somebody gasps–she's positive it's Finn's mom–and then Kurt rubs her arm a little, "Why would–what happened?"

"They hate me." She turns her head, blinking up at him finally, and his eyes widen a tiny bit in surprise; she's sure she looks like a mess. She takes a breath and manages to get it out, "They found out about me and Brittany and kicked me out."

Kurt glances over her head at his dad, whose hand lands on her shoulder heavily, "You can stay as long as you like." She turns to look at him and he glances out of the kitchen and through the living room, "I didn't see any bags, did you–"

She shakes her head loosely, "No, I didn't have time to pack anything." She turns back to Kurt, "I'm sorry to do this to you, but Brittany's on vacation and I didn't know where else–"

Kurt cuts her off with a squeeze on her arm and a soft, genuine smile, "Don't worry about it. She can stay in my room?"

Santana blinks, confused, but his Dad murmurs an agreement and she realizes he was asking his dad and not her, "Where do you live, uh–Santana?" She watches Kurt mouth her name at his dad vacantly, not replying; when Kurt slides a piece of paper in front of her, she takes the offered pencil and writes down her address, but she's not entirely sure why. Are they going to take her home? Is he going to go and try to get some clothes for her?

"I'll be back in an hour or so." Kurt's dad stands and leaves the room, quickly followed by his girlfriend, and Santana sips her tea with Kurt sitting beside her and together, they eavesdrop on the short, whispered conversation.

"I know it's wrong, Burt, but what are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know. I'm not going to try and convince them to take her back. They don't deserve her for what they did. Did you see the bruise on her wrist?"

Kurt reaches for her arm and she lets him look; his fingers press gently against the purple skin and she winces.

"Burt, honey, don't do anything stupid."

"It's not stupid, I'm just going to go scream at her parents for a little while and pack up her stuff." Kurt snorts softly, and she assumes this crazy papa-bear protectiveness is something he's seen often. Too often, considering the amount of crap he gets at school.

"And she's just going to stay here?" Carole sighs and the door closes, leaving her question apparently unanswered, and then she mumbles to herself, "I'm just collecting kids now, aren't I?" She comes back into the kitchen and smiles gently at Santana, who has finished crying and is wiping at her face with a cloth that Kurt retrieved from the sink.

She peaks into the cup on the table and plucks it off, emptying the cold liquid into the sink, "Would you like some more tea, sweetie?"

"Sure. Thanks, Mrs. Hudson."

The teacup clinks against the table, "Call me Carole. And the big scary man you just met is Burt."

Carole turns around and starts bustling around behind them, washing dishes in the sink, and Santana peeks up at Kurt, "Burt and Kurt?"

"Shut up," but he's smiling, and his hand has somehow slipped through hers and she figures she doesn't have to mind unless he tells somebody at school. They turn to look as Finn pads into the kitchen, looking sleepy and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Mom, what's going on?" Finn looks at Kurt, "What's Santana doing here?"

Santana fights the sob that chokes her throat and Kurt answers for her, "Her parents kicked her out, Finn." He looks confused; she doesn't blame him, "Cause of her and Brittany?" Finn still looks confused for the most part, but Finn always looks confused; his look clears a tiny bit and he nods, smiling awkwardly at Santana.

They end up putting a movie on. Santana curls into Kurt's side on a loveseat and Finn sprawls out on the sofa, snoring loudly.

Burt comes back near the end of it, missing a hat and sporting a bloody nose. Nobody says anything as he hauls in three suitcases; they're not Santana's, but she supposes he kept them in the garage and took them with him when he went.

He disappears up the stairs and Santana tilts her head up to look at Kurt, "I finally understand why you're not scared of anything." Kurt laughs, a high tinkling sound, and hugs her to him, and she mumbles into his chest, "Thanks, Kurt. This means a lot."

"I know." She wonders where he would've gone if his dad had turned out like hers, and then she shakes her head, somehow unable to picture Kurt with anything but this awesome, protective beast of a father.

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