A/N: Hello, everyone! I've returned, after an undoubtedly agonizing eternity.. For which I apologize immensely! I would like to thank my followers for sticking by me and the story, despite the constant lack of updates. You guys that are still reading and interested are truly the best! Especially the few that kindly nudge me for updates. My writer's block and other unfortunate personal things have been a deep hindrance to one of my passions; writing. But, I have not let any of it beat me, so I am back into the fold. I can't promise that this chapter is really worth the horrendous wait, as there isn't much going on in the way of plot moving along..; however, I felt that I had to put this chapter behind me and start anew. 35 is being worked on, as well as brainstorming for what's to come plot wise. I'm going to finish this story, and it will, to the best of my abilty, not have a rused, unthought out ending.

Now, please try to enjoy, even if it's not the best update, and don't hesitate to comment/ask questions. (:

Present, Santana.

I had to get away from my mind, from that damn comfortable bed, from Quinn. Waking up with my head reeling from the nightmare I had involving her, Rachel, and the woman I met at the Lima Bean sent me spiraling out the door, though not before running Quinn over. I feel bad, sure, but there's something wrong with me and it's causing my brain to swim dizzily; it's as if a dark fog is filling those empty spaces where my memories are supposed to be. I'm hoping that meeting up with this mystery woman will help clear my head, because I damn well need a good fuckin' distraction from it all.

And, a hell of a distraction she is.

That nightmare, - it was too terrifying to be anything else - really shook me up. I swear to all things holy that it was happening for real, that Quinn was kidnapped, tortured, and turned into what I can only call evil by the time we found her. I saw it in her eyes, how they were blood red and hollow, yet brimming with malicious intent.

Quinn was no longer in there. The thing staring at us was a demon straight from the depths of the 9th circle of hell, and when it turned those dead, malevolent, deep red orbs on Rachel, I knew right then, felt it in my heart and soul, what she was created for.

We were not her target, Rachel was, and the demon planned to annihilate her.

I had never felt so much terror in my life.

I had never felt so much rage.

They took Quinn from us; they took her to use against us, to rid of Rachel, knowing that we would have trouble fighting or killing someone so close to our hearts.

Like hell I would let that happen.

I could do nothing, though, not even move an inch toward the unnaturally moving demon heading right for her. Motionless, helpless, I watched in agony, screaming my throat raw as it closed in on Rachel's equally immobile body and kneeled down in front of her.

I looked to the mystery woman then, pleading for her to do something, anything, but she was just as paralyzed and only tears answered my tormented screams for help.

We could only watch as the demon literally sucked Rachel's soul into its mouth.

I woke when her lifeless body hit the hard, frozen ground.

Quinn a demon and Rachel dead because of her; what a fucked up nightmare.

I felt like crawling out of my own skin when I woke, felt like breaking free of myself, and I couldn't run away fast enough. I've calmed down, to an extent, but there's this niggling in my brain, a sensation that has me on edge, and no matter how much I want to meet up with this woman, Rachel is at the forefront of my thoughts.

Damn, that nightmare really screwed me up, if all I can think about is Rachel Berry.

And Quinn, with those demonized eyes.

Now those I would not mind forgetting.

When I finally make it to the address mystery girl gave me, my eyes widen and a chill strikes up my spine. The house is monstrous, and down right creepy as hell. It looks like if I took one step inside, the thing would crumble into dust.

What if this is a trap?

What if they hold me hostage in the attic that she claimed they're working in? Only one way to find out, Santana. Just exit the car, walk up the half decent porch, and knock on the door.

Easy!

I watch, my gaze already glued to the door, as it swings open. A head pops out, and familiar gray eyes catch mine, rooting me to my seat. I swallow thickly and avert my stare.

Even from afar, those orbs are damn intense.

When I chance a glance back up, I'm barely able to restrain a scream of fright. She's outside my car door, looking in on me worriedly. I blink at her as my chest heaves from the scare. She is then suddenly on her knees beside me, hands on my white knuckled grip around the steering wheel. I feel myself relax instantly, the built up tension releasing in a shaky breath.

"Don't be afraid, Santana. I only plan to strip you naked, shackle you in the dungeon, and then bring out my handy dandy dominatrix kit..." Looking away from our hands, I'm met with a smirk, wiggling brows, and eyes that strangely have a sudden sheen to them.

They're a metallic gray, several shades lighter than they were at the Lima Bean. I've never met anyone whose eyes changed in the light so much.

Registering what she said has me chuckling as her hands lift mine off the wheel. "Well, hell, as long as that's all, then I guess it wouldn't hurt to come in."

"Come on, subbie, no point in wasting time; I've got clothes to strip and flesh to flog." Hefting me up, she shuts the door and latches onto my wrist, before leading me to the house.

I'm not even a little bit worried her words are true.

The inside isn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. There's nothing that makes me think that someone is going to pop out wearing painted on leather, with a cat o' nine tails swinging at the ready. But while the house isn't ominous, it doesn't look well lived in either.

A boy is cleaning out a coffee pot when we enter the kitchen, a rather striking one at that; tall, broad shouldered, lean, and spiked hair a midnight black. The scar on his cheek is light, jagged, and sexy as hell, though I look to my mystery woman in confusion after checking him out.

I thought she was with a girl. "Is this your friend's boyfriend?"

That would make me feel so much better.

I'd have no competition if her friend is straight and taken.

"Oh, uh-"

"I'm Nicolas, another friend." The boy, who appears no older than twenty one, hovers his hand in front of me with an unexpected shy smile and cute blush.

The timid demeanor doesn't really match his hotness.

How adorable.

I give him a firm handshake. "Santana."

"So, how about that cup of Joe?" I ask him, turning my attention back on gray eyes.

Nicolas mumbles a quiet "Sure," while any type of response from the girl beside me is interrupted by a hurried knocking on the front door.

"Nic, could you get that? I'm going to take Santana up to the attic."

He nods and moves swiftly out of the room. I'm then practically shoved and drug upstairs to the attic, where I seat myself, out of breath, in the closest available chair.

"Damn, woman, where's the fire?" Googly eyed, I stare at her as my hand presses against my chest, the sudden scramble to get up here taking its toll.

"Shit, I'm sorry." She's at my side in a split second, laying her hand over the one rising and falling along with my chest. "Take deep breaths and let them out slowly."

"Fuck. I –I don't feel so hot."

Why does it seem like I just ran a damn marathon without stopping for water?

"What are your symptoms?" A warm hand grazes over my forehead.

"Dizzy, c-can't catch-"

"Easy, Ana, slow breaths or you will hyperventilate." My head is guided gently between my knees, and I focus solely on breathing evenly in and out.

"Stay right there, I'm going to get you a glass of water." She rubs a few circles on my back, and then I feel her potent presence leave me.

I count while breathing, keeping my mind in control. It's eternity before gray comes back, but her footsteps weren't what alerted me to her return, it was the sheer power that radiates from within her; it fills up the whole room, soothing me as well as making my skin tingle.

If I didn't know any better, I would say that she has some serious supernatural shit going on, but this isn't a TV show, this is real life, and no such creatures exist here.

I lift my head at the same time she sets ice water on the table. Not bothering with decorum, not that I really have any, I grab the glass and gulp down over half.

"Better?" She wipes the dripping water from my chin.

I grin embarrassedly at her. "Thanks. Guess I need to work on my cardio."

Her lips twitch at one end, but she doesn't smile. "I'm sorry. Try not to hate me."

Frowning, I put the left over water back. "I don't know why you rag dolled me up here, but hate is a strong word to use. I'm baffled, and so in the dark about what's going on."

My trust isn't given freely, yet this girl has somehow earned it from the moment we met. There is an odd, uncomfortable feeling in my gut, though; maybe coming from my missing memories, or maybe from the precarious situation, but whatever the cause, it definitely has me alert and unnerved.

She moves from in front of me, and I follow her movement to a bookshelf with curious eyes. A flash of blonde hair has me doing a double take. I blink at the image standing in the doorway, squeeze my eyes shut and rub them, because there is no fucking way I'm seeing her.

"Santana..."

Am I still asleep?

Am I hallucinating?

Will Quinn appear before my eyes when I open them to her cautious voice? Against my better judgment, I brave a look, finding just what I expected. My head shakes disbelievingly, and I shoot up off the chair, causing it to screech against the floor. Quinn jerks back at the sound and flickers her wide orbs over me wildly, fear written plainly on her face.

"Who are you?" I ignore the way that expression sears my heart, and force myself to turn my vexation on the mystery woman.

Though, how mysterious could she be if Quinn knows her?

Evidently troubled, she visibly swallows and glances at Quinn. "M-Maybe you should sit back down. I don't want you to get too worked up."

My anger flares, and I storm over to where she's nervously standing. "Oh, I'll show you worked up if you don't tell me who the hell you are and what the hell is going on!"

"That's not what I meant. You nearly hyperventilated a few minuets ago just from being rushed up two flights of stairs. There is no need for that to happen again. If you can at all try to keep calm, I suggest you do so before things escalate. Badly." Her dodging the question to tell me to calm down has my rage flaring to new heights.

Then it virtually evaporates within moments at her sneaky, creeper fingers closing around my wrist. Without understanding why, I let her sit me back in the chair. I'm pissed at myself for the weakness, for easily being controlled by a mere touch.

"Who. Are. You?"

"You are my friend, Santana." She says, holding out her hand to Quinn.

Quinn looks hesitant for a split second, but she walks over and takes it, and even twines their fingers together. They share a look, and I stare, lost more than ever.

"I don't know you." I admit, a tad harsher than intended.

She takes it in stride, while Quinn tenses.

"You are the friend. Think about it." Her eyes bore into me, as if I'm supposed to get what she is saying through them alone.

I roll mine, cursing her and the thought of having to think about some cryptic message.

The friend; what does it mean?

She hasn't mentioned any of her friends, except the girl that texted her about going through boxes in this attic. I've yet to see any other girls but…me.

"Me." I whisper, the pieces clicking. "You know."

"Yes, we know. When you didn't recognize me at the Lima Bean, I knew something was up, something not good." She indicates Quinn and herself with a sad frown.

So we are friends. I flirted with her, thinking she was a random - beautiful - woman who was drawn to me, but she's just another person whom I have no recollection of. She knew, and let it happen anyway, even flirted back. Why? If we are not together, then that was damn cruel, making me believe I ever had a chance.

"I've had a real fucked up day. First I wake up on the couch, and I'm greeted with my mom accusing me of getting trashed the night before. I had no trace of alcohol on my breath. I learn that Rachel Berry, of all people, and this Riley girl dropped me off. Last I was aware, Berry and I aren't besties, yet she openly hugs me in the fuckin' hallway. I meet Riley at lunch, and apparently we know each other, but there's no memory of her."

"Quinn, you've been acting pretty docile, sweet even, and that is seriously disturbing. I meet this gorgeous, intense woman with supernatural eyes during an otherwise freaky day, and I thought I had lucked out, but in reality she screwed with my head, flirted with me like it meant something, knowing most of the time that we were there that I was in obvious trouble."

"If that isn't enough, I was lured into a creepy house on false pretenses, and then blindsided by two apparent friends in cohorts with one another. Either someone starts explaining, or I'm out of here faster than you can even think of touching me with those damn sneaky hands of yours. Maybe Rachel will be of more use to me. At least she is predictably honest." By the time I'm done with my inflamed fueled ranting, I just feel tired and perturbed, and ready to get my answers so I can climb in my bed and sleep until this all goes away.

I don't miss the sudden panic that flashes on Quinn's face.

"That's not necessary, Santana. Rachel doesn't know anything." Gray's quick reaction, along with Quinn's suspicious expression, has me more than skeptical.

"Listen, I'm sorry for leading you on. I-I didn't know what else to do. Inside, I was scared for you, panicked, and I knew that whatever had happened was out of my depth. I could have brushed you off, but I didn't want to hurt you. I needed more information before going for help, and you seemed comfortable with me, so I stayed calm and kept you talking."

"But you left me! How could you have done that to a so called friend?"

"No! I mean, yes, I did leave you, but I sent you to Quinn's so that you would be safe until I could try to figure things out. I would have never gone anywhere if I knew you were in imminent danger. I needed to check into some things before alerting you or Quinn." She's in my face, both hands clutching my shoulders, as her eyes dart madly between mine.

I get the feeling that this woman has gone past desperate for me to believe her. It's now crucial and dire; I can see it in her darkening, piercing eyes.

"Santana, please, I didn't mean to upset you. All I want is to help. And that's what we're going to do, Quinn, Nic, and I. We will get your memories back, I promise." Her voice is raspy, deep with emotion, and it brings tears to my eyes.

I force them not to spill over. I've been weak and vulnerable enough in front of her to last a life time, so I don't need her seeing me losing it because of a few sentimental words.

It doesn't work. My eyes burn from the strain of keeping them open and the tears start to blur my vision. I give in and close them. Drops instantly wet my cheeks, and I irritably scrub them away, miffed at myself, again, for having no control over my own emotions.

Something of what she said sticks out the most, slapping me in the face in its obviousness when I spy Quinn studying me warily out the corner of my cracked open left eye.

"You sent me to Quinn's." I mutter, eyes snapping to gray.

Blinking at the sudden movement, she backs up slightly, giving Quinn more space to close in on me. I feel like an exotic attraction, with the way they're all but in my lap.

"Yes. She's your best friend; I knew that she would take care of you." She answers with crinkled brows, as if not understanding why I'd ask such a question.

What I don't understand is how and when Quinn and I became so close again. We're always at each other's throats, pulling bitch moves to one up the other; fighting for the top. That's not why I asked, though. It wasn't even a question.

"I wasn't asking. If you sent me to Quinn's by text, then you're Riley. I thought the girl I met at School was you. How many other people do I know that I don't even remember? Who was that other woman? She and Rachel looked damn cozy. I don't ever recall Berry so at ease, especially with another girl in the public eye." I'm not angry at her, or at anyone else but myself, just so distressingly depressed.

I have friends, old and new, ones that apparently care about me, and I have absolutely no recollection of them. It's sad. It hurts. I've got a deep rooted feeling, like I'm missing out on something good, something all mine. No, not missing, taken.

It's in the way Quinn not so subtly, though she probably thinks it's subtle, inches as close as possible. It's in the pale skin of her porcelain face, the mist in her eyes, the worried knit of her brows, and in the overall somber expression she is attempting to keep hidden.

It's in the tremble of her hand as she fists it to suppress the urge to touch me just as Riley has already done so readily. It's in the way Riley touches me without reservation, the genuine concern in her eyes, and the inflexibility in her words despite a few helpless stutters.

It's in the friendly way that other girl spoke to me, with Rachel sitting in her lap as if she had done it a million times before, the gleeks being comfortable around me like I've been forgiven for bullying them, and now we're all close enough to sit at the same table without anyone avoiding eye contact with the bitch in their circle of freaks.

It's in the way Rachel Berry openly hugged me.

It's in the pang of my heart.

"What happened to me?" I ask almost breathlessly, overwhelmed.

"Devon is who you saw at school. She and another girl, Aris, are my best friends. You know all three of us well, and we are great friends with your group. We had a party Saturday at Brittany's, and a few of us were still there yesterday. Nic needed me to come over, which made you, Rachel, and Quinn want to tag along. You slipped on the porch and took a tumble, hit your head before I could catch you-"

"I didn't feel any bumps this morning and my head isn't even sore." I prod the back of my head again, checking for any signs of impact.

There are none.

They share another look.

"I'm leaving." I've had enough, more than, so I push past them with the intention to storm out of the house and drive over to Rachel's regardless of what they say.

"Santana, wait!" I stop in the doorway, more from Riley's desperate grasp on my arm than from her equally desperate voice. "Rachel doesn't know. She left before it happened."

Before it happened?

"Before what happened?" Turning to face her, I jerk out of her hold and glare. "Tell me, and I mean right the fuck now, or-"

"You're not going to believe me." With a bitter chuckle, she shakes her head.

Eyes narrowing, my fingernails dig into my palm in sheer frustration. "Try me."

"You were hammered and ended up passing out here, and when Nicolas went to pick you up, he accidently siphoned out your memories with his powers. You were vulnerable in that state, and with Nicolas not yet having control over his abilities-"

"Fuck you." Snarling, I shove her hard in the chest.

She barely budges, but her face screams shock.

"Tana!"

"No! Don't you Tana me! You have no right. God, Quinn, I hate you."

The sharp, stinging pain of a slap reverberates throughout my body.

Gritting my teeth, I refuse to touch my throbbing cheek, not dare letting them see how much it hurt me. Quinn's face matches Riley's perfectly.

I find myself not giving a fuck.

They have done nothing but mess with my head.

This time when I turn to leave, no one stops me.

xXx

I am beyond tired now, eyes drying out and hard to keep open. But, I need answers; Rachel has to know what the hell is going on.

Despite the cool air and slight wind, I feel too warm.

Swiping the perspiration on my forehead, I knock on her door and wait impatiently.

When it opens, I roll my eyes; this chick is definitely not Rachel.

"Santana..." My name is said softly, with a frown. "You don't look so well. Come in and sit down, I'll get you some water." Opening the door wider, she ushers me in, not giving me a chance to protest.

I'm way too exhausted to object.

"Is Rachel here?" I ask as she guides me to the living room and onto the couch.

"No, I'm afraid not. She and Devon are together. I'll be right back." Before I can say anything, she's gone, and I am left silently stewing on Rachel's stupidly comfortable couch.

My eyes are heavy and they're starting to sting.

I blink rapidly to stay awake, but when my eyelids flutter shut, I force myself to get up and walk around. If I fall asleep now there's no telling when I'll wake up, and I have got to have that interrogation with Berry tonight.

"Yeah, she's here. I do not like the way she looks, though, Riley. Santana has overworked herself and is highly stressed. Damn right it's partly your fault! Of course I did; they left at my insistence for a late night snack. Now what? Never mind, don't answer that. I'll take care of her myself." An unexpected low growl makes me jump as she slams her phone on the counter.

She sighs heavily and turns in my direction.

Her eyes show no surprise that I've been standing here eavesdropping.

"Take care of me, huh? Is this the part where I run screaming up the stairs and lock myself in a bedroom? I mean, that's what the dumb ass chicks in the movies do." Instead of backing up in apprehension, I step closer and face her head on.

Lips quirking up into a smile, she lets out a soft laugh. "No need for that. If I had wanted to hurt you, Santana, I would have by now. And you definitely wouldn't have made it to the stairs. You and I are friends, even if you don't remember me. By take care of you, I meant just that."

My trust is pretty damn cracked now, thanks to Riley and Quinn, so I can't say that I fully believe this woman, but at the same time... I somehow feel that I need to trust her. Not much different than the feeling when I first met Riley at the Lima Bean.

"If you're truly my friend, then please tell me what Riley wouldn't. I have had the most exhausting day and all I've wanted was answers. What's so hard about that? And don't think I'm an idiot like your friend thought and pull some magic powers explanation shit out of your ass." I warn her, as she grabs a glass and fills it to the brim with water.

I take the offered glass from her. "Deal?"

"I can't do that, Santana-"

"Right." I laugh darkly.

"I can't do that, because it's true. That boy is a witch of sorts, and yes, he absolutely has magical powers. When he picked you up, he accidently took some of your more recent memories. Riley is doing everything that she can possibly think of to give them back to you. Nicolas and Quinn, too. I know how this sounds, I do. But anything else I tell you would be a lie, and soon enough, when they find a spell, you will be back to yourself and remember everything that was taken from you. You not believing her is why Riley wasn't giving answers." I've drained the glass of water by the time she's done talking, and now I have a strong urge to throw it.

Witches and powers and spells? What universe have I fallen into?

Shaking my head, I roughly set the glass down, and then walk away as fast as my feet will carry me. I cannot do this anymore.

I give up.

I'm going home and crawling in my bed.

"Santana..." Aris is in front of me before I even reach the foyer.

She sets her hands on my shoulders, stopping me from going further.

"Fuck you and your friends." Sneering, I ram into her and past, forcing my way to the door.

"Please. It's okay if you don't believe me, but you can't go. You're too tired to drive, and I would rather you not get in a wreck. Your safety is my only concern right now." Again, I am blocked, and have no choice but to look into her pleading eyes.

My resolve falters, as does my rage. "I don't trust you."

An ache in my chest tells me otherwise, that need still present even after hearing the complete bullshit spewing from her mouth.

"I understand. Stay, though, okay? You're safe here, Santana. Rachel will be here soon. Do you honestly think that she would let any harm come to you?" I'm wrapped up in strong arms, in what's meant to be a comforting gesture.

It only half works.

The mention of Rachel reminds me of whose house I'm at, and what I am doing here to begin with. Pulling away, I back up to think about my current situation.

I'm totally spent; I haven't felt this way since the first day of Cheerio's practice, when Coach had us do the first of many suicides for both punishment and discipline, and to whip us into tip top shape. Though, now there's the added mental burn out as well.

Tomorrow is another day; I don't have the energy to put up with Rachel's beat around the bush, mile long paragraphs. I'd probably fall out before she even gets to the actual answer.

"Fine, but I really am fuckin' knackered, so where can I crash?" Giving in, reluctantly, I move toward the stairs, ready to fall into any bed available.

"You can sleep with me. I'll make sure no one bothers you." She leads me to a room, and over to the bed, where I plop down and start taking my shoes off.

My brain must be mush, if I can't find in myself to argue the sleeping arrangements.

"Here are some clothes. Bathroom is through there, and I'm sure the medicine cabinet has some extra tooth brushes." Grabbing the tank and sweats, I nod and tiredly head that way.

This is going to be awkward as hell.

Present, Rachel.

The donut boxes in my lap are warm, and the scent wafting to my sensitive nose has my hands about clawing the seat to keep from digging in.

I'm afraid that there will be nothing left.

Once I open it, there's no turning back for Devon and I.

Aris would be shit out of luck.

"Stay strong, Rach, we're almost home!" With amused encouragement, she turns onto our road, while I gulp down some of my frozen chocolaty chip coffee.

The brain freeze distracts me enough for her to pull into the driveway, though through my pain and scrunched eyes I hear her gasp.

Forcing an eye open, I peer around cautiously. "What is it?"

I'm gasping and throwing myself out the car before she can respond. "Santana!"

"Rachel, hold on a second!" Devon whips past me.

I nearly growl when she stands in front of the door, but the gentle look of understanding stops me, and I will myself to take a deep, calming breath.

"Whew. Okay. Let's approach this delicately, all right? I don't think it'd be a good idea to storm in there and suffocate her right off the bat..."

She has a point; no need to overwhelm her.

Besides, I should still be angry and hurt, not wanting to jump into her arms.

Granted, Santana should be allowed the same feelings after what I did.

That certainly does not erase the pain of her earlier reversion to the old Santana Lopez; the one who used to bully me and say cruel things to my face.

"Okay. You are correct." I concede with an affirmative nod.

"Good." With a not so hidden grimace, she opens the door and I follow nervously, donuts in hand.

The house is quiet.

Dad and Daddy aren't home yet, but I smell Aris and Santana upstairs.

Santana has taken a shower.

My nostrils flare at her intoxicating scent.

I would happily give all three boxes of donuts to Aris, if only I could taste my more mouthwatering mate instead.

Aris meets us in the kitchen, minus who I really want to see.

I frown.

"Rachel." I look at her, eyes already starting to water. "Santana is not to be disturbed. She is extremely worn out and is in desperate need of a solid twelve hours of sleep at least."

My heart drops, and tears immediately develop. "She doesn't want to see me?"

"Not tonight. Leave her be." Shaking her head no, she opens one of the boxes.

As if this is everyday, non concerning news.

As if tears of despair are not leaking out my now blurring eyes.

As if she doesn't care that I am hurting, too.

"I think maybe I shouldn't be here, then. It's too hard." Backing up, I wrap my arms around myself, feeling defenseless against Aris's stony, careless attitude.

She has been this way ever since I've been home, but usually it's shown in the way she ignores me, or with withering glares that hurt deep down. They have become my family, my pack, so me disappointing and angering all of them evokes horrible emotions that I am desperate to rid of.

The only way that can happen is to somehow make things right. Everything that's happened is still fresh, raw, and I'm not sure how to even begin earning forgiveness.

"Rachel..." Devon, with her big, sad eyes, reaches for me. "Where are you going to go?" She lays a gentle hand on my shoulder blade, guiding me into an embrace.

I let her pull me in, but I'm tense and, my arms, still crossed, press into her as she hugs me; she doesn't seem to care. "Don't leave."

"I'll go to Quinn's for the night." I whisper, itching to get out of here.

Only so I won't run up the stairs and into bed with Santana.

"Quinn is with Riley tonight." Aris says flippantly.

Devon whips her head around with a growl, and Aris flinches from the intensity of it. Her eyes are startled, and then they shift away as she busies herself with another donut.

"Stay. Please. I will sleep with you, okay?" Facing me, Devon unpeels my arms and wraps them around her waist instead.

"Not upstairs." I rest my head on her shoulder.

"I'll make us a pallet in the living room. We can watch whatever you want, and I will help you relax so you can get some sleep." Kissing my head, she releases me from her warmth.

I restrain myself from huddling back into her.

She leads me to our living room, and I sit down on the couch as she goes off to gather blankets and pillows. I hear Aris follow, an angered "Don't" from Devon, and then the click of the guest bedroom door.

It should be me in there.

I guess I gave up that right when I ran away.

I do not deserve Santana.

Devon comes in the room loaded down with pallet material. She grins at me, and then proceeds to unload the heap on top of my head. I'm instantly buried underneath. Giggling lightly, I do nothing as she takes them off of me one by one. Finally unearthed, I look to the huge pile of spread out comforters and four pillows that are in front of the TV.

"Is this okay?" Hopeful, she stares at me earnestly.

Though Aris reminds me of Brittany with her long blonde hair and tall, dancer's body, Devon greatly reminds me of Brittany's personality, with her forgiving nature.

I don't deserve Devon's forgiveness, either, but I see in her eyes that she has already forgiven me for being an ass. I know that with the others it will not be so easy.

"I'll let you know once I test it out." I tease her, knowing very well that this will be the best pallet I've ever slept on. "In the meantime, could you fix us some popcorn?" Untying my shoes, I give her a cheesy grin, trying to keep the mood light.

She smiles brightly. "Of course. Pick out a movie while I'm gone."

With a toss of my shoes to the side of the couch, I stand up and walk over to the entertainment center. Eyeing the titles, I eliminate by genre. I want something to cheer me up, but nothing that will get me too excited. I'm supposed to be relaxing and getting some sleep, after all.

As the microwave runs in the background, I select the perfect movie, put it in, and strip down to my t-shirt and panties. The top blanket is cool against my skin, the pillows soft and firm beneath my head. I could go to sleep now if I allowed myself the chance.

Devon comes in with a huge bowl of popcorn, two glasses, and a wine bottle.

I raise my eyebrows at her. "Are you planning to get me drunk?"

"No, not tonight. One glass will ease your nerves and should help you rest, though." She hands me the bowl as I sit up, and then plops down beside me.

I'm definitely not going to argue against a glass of wine.

Even if it did come from my daddy's own little wine collection of the expensive variety. Who am I to judge, when I have done much worse? Santana is more important than a bottle of highly priced wine that can be drunk and gone within minutes. If anything, she should be judging the hell out of me for what I've done to Santana.

And for what I have put them through.

"Here, drink up." I take the offered glass and immediately taste test.

It's a white wine, sweet on contact and smooth going down.

"So, what are we watching?" She settles under the cover with her pillows resting against the couch as a back rest, and I do the same.

I mash the TV on button as my reply.

"Shrek?"

"I was in the mood for some laughs." I shrug, blushing.

I have a love for animated films.

"We could definitely use some of that." Snagging a handful of popcorn, she stuffs her mouth and swallows it down with half her wine.

"I didn't want to watch anything that would excite or scare me. I'm to relax, remember?" I pluck a few pieces of the buttery popped corn out of her lap, and feed them to her.

"Shrek is great, Rach, no need to defend your choice." She reassures me sweetly, while nabbing more popcorn to shovel into her mouth.

Smiling in thanks, I focus on the movie.

It's halfway over before we know it, and my eyes are heavier than they were at the beginning. Noting me nearly nodding off, Devon places the bowl and my empty glass aside for me to lie down. With the pillows back where they were, I promptly collapse and sigh sleepily. I feel her laugh and lie beside me, her natural body heat radiating in the space between us and warming me up.

I turn to face her, only to find her already staring at me.

"So, what's the verdict?" She pats the cover we're laying on, slapping my hand that happens to be in the way in the process. "Oops, sorry."

Laughing again, she rubs over the stinging appendage as I pout at her.

"It's perfect." I scoot closer and tuck into her. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Sleep well." She kisses my head again, and I drift off with the knowledge that I will always, no matter what, find comfort in Devon.

xXx

Wide-eyed and heart pounding, I shakily remove myself from Devon's arms. She mumbles something and flops onto her belly. I would laugh, if not for the horrid dream I just had masking any positive emotions. All I can feel is dread and fear and anger, and nothing anyone can say right now is stopping me from seeing Santana.

She can throw things and scream how much she hates me, but as long as I gaze upon her with my own eyes, even if for just a moment, then that is fine by me.

I tip toe upstairs, though know that it's pointless when you live amongst werewolves. The most undetectable sound to human ears can alert us from a mile away.

The door is closed.

Their breaths are fairly even, yet out of sync. Santana's is deeper, slower, while Aris is producing little snores as Santana exhales. Cracking the door open, I peek inside. It's odd being able to see in the dark, but I can easily make out both of them. My gorgeous wolf to be is curled on her right side, one move away from falling off the bed, and Aris is on her back, nowhere near as close to Santana as Devon and I were.

Not much of a surprise, considering who they are.

Swallowing heavily, I think 'Fuck it' and take a chance. I can hear my heart beating over their breathing, the nervousness of getting caught and tossed out becoming too much. The thought is ridiculous, me being kicked out of my own guest room, and by people I love no less!

I'm at Santana's side, taking cautious turns looking between them, when Aris's eyes pop open. I freeze, terrified as she virtually murders me a thousand times over with just one look.

'Tell me I'm dreaming.' She growls inside my head, making me recoil.

'Y-You're dreaming.. .' Flustered, and scared, I don't move.

'Rachel Berry, if you know what's good for you, you will go back downstairs before I get out of this bed-'

'No. This is my house, Santana is my girlfriend, and if I want to see her and get in this bed to cuddle, I will! So if you think you can just order me around and think I'll submit without question then think again, Aris!' Really not liking the hold she has over me and my guilt, I put my foot down, the need to hold Santana stronger than my fear of retaliation.

Stronger than rejection.

Not waiting on a reply, I move to the other side of the bed to climb over her. She lets me, and then I'm in the middle, shuffling up to Santana's back and spooning her.

Aris stays where she is, silent and brooding.

'I have to tell you something.' Her words fill up my head again, the silence not lasting like I had hoped it would.

'It can wait until tomorrow. Leave me be.' Mocking Aris with left over indignation and hurt, I clutch Santana just a little tighter, careful not to disturb her sleep.

'Rachel-'

'Tomorrow, Aris, okay?'

'Okay.'

Nothing else is said, and I allow myself to fall back asleep; this time where I belong. If I wake up mauled to death, then so be it. Being against Santana one more time is worth anything that could be coming my way in the morning.