A/N: So, I was just about to finish writing my update for my Quinntana fic, when my computer crashes. I just finally got my laptop to work, and I decided to write this for you guys. Now, I have to warn you guys, I've never written in this point of view before nor have I written angst, so don't hate me. I don't own Glee, but reviews make that better. Anyways, I hope you like this, it's a polar opposite from what I usually write, so here it goes.

We were seventeen when I first realized that we were soulmates. I had known for awhile that I was in love with you; I think I've always known. You took your time admitting your feelings for me, and even though there was a time where I had hurt you more than you've ever been hurt in your life, we still came back to each other. That's how it always was though. There was no Santana without her Brittany, no Brittany without my Santana. When we were younger, you and I always had sleepovers beneath the stars if the weather was nice. As we grew older, we kept that tradition, only shy hand-holds were replaced with stolen kisses and whispered admissions of love. I don't think I can ever forget how beautiful you looked that night.

We had lain on the grass shoulder to shoulder, our hands interlaced as we stared up at the star littered night sky. We spoke of how amazing our senior year was going to be, now that we were together and ready to tell our friends. Then when I told you that I love you with all my heart, you turned your head and looked at me, your eyes shone with so much love and admiration that I didn't even need to hear you make your own declaration.

"Look at the stars, B." You whispered quietly.

I gave you an incredulous look, but did as you asked. I looked up to the heavens, there seemed to be more stars out in the sky on that night than ever before. You must have sensed that I was getting lost in my thoughts, because you nudged me gently.

"Start counting them."

"But Santana" I said confused. "There are so many!"

You smiled that beautiful smile of yours and nodded your head as you settled on your elbows to hover above me.

"Count them, Britt. When you're done counting them all, that's when I'll stop loving you." You said before leaning forward to capture my lips between yours.

I knew in that moment I never wanted you to stop loving me. I also knew that you were just making a point; you just wanted to show me how much you loved me in a way that I would find charming. You liked to charm me, I could tell. I may have done less than average in school, but that didn't mean I wasn't intelligent, or able to understand people. Other people thought I was stupid, but never you. You were the only person who ever called me smart, and I could never forget that.

Most people thought that you and I wouldn't last, but we proved them wrong. We were twenty-one when we got married. In New York of course, with Kurt in charge of our wedding and Quinn and Rachel at our sides, as our maids of honor. You looked so damn beautiful, Santana. Words cannot express the unbelievable amount of emotion that surged through me when I saw you walk down that aisle in a beautiful white dress, tears already running down your face. It was the second best day of my life.

The best day of my life came a year and half later, when Jackson Jason Lopez-Pierce came into the world. He was perfect, you were perfect, that whole day was perfect. You had always been so scared of being a mother, scared that you'd be like your parents, but when we found out that I couldn't have children, you jumped at the opportunity to try and get pregnant. We went through all the procedures. The fertilization, artificial insemination, everything; we did it all together, our hard work paying off in the end. I was living a fairytale life. I had my queen and my sweet young prince. But fairytales come to an end eventually, and sometimes, they don't have a happy ending.

I remember the day my Sanny was taken from me. You woke me up with a soft kiss to my temple, telling me that it was time for your shift at the hospital. I was so proud of you for completing medical school; you were on your way to being one of the best doctors in all of New York, but your heart belonged to helping out the people who needed it most in clinics. Like I said, I was proud of you, especially because of your dedication to your job. I remember joking that morning at the breakfast table, telling you to call in sick and spend the day with me and JJ. You just smirked the trademark Santana Lopez smirk and told me that there were lives to save. I pouted for a moment then, only to have it wiped away by a kiss and a gentle "I love you."

You walked over to JJ, and wrapped the six year old into a hug. "Bye mijo, I love you, be good for momma, and mami will bring you home ice cream."

He smiled widely and said the phrase back, his mind already on the treat he would get when you came home.

"It's only a few hours mi preciosa." You said to me with a grin. "I'll come home to you."

I nodded my head in agreement and gave you another kiss. If I had known in that moment that this would be the last time I saw you, held you, got to feel your lips on mine, I would have made it last longer. I would have poured all my love into that kiss, but I had no idea that later on that day I would be receiving the worst phone call of my life. You told me you would come home to us. You didn't.

I got the call around eight, just as I had finished putting JJ in bed. I was excited, I saw that it was your work calling, and I had got it into my head that maybe you were getting off now and coming back to me early. Imagine my surprise, my shock, when it was a police officer whose voice met my ear, not yours. He told me that he was very sorry, but a man had tried to steal medicine from the clinic today, and when you refused to give it to him, he pulled out his gun and, well, took you from me.

I thought it was a prank, some cruel, cruel April Fool's prank that you pulled on me. I even ran to the calendar and checked the date. When the realization hit that no, it wasn't a prank, I sat on our bed and cried. Just cried, for hours. I called Quinn, then Rachel, then the whole damn Glee club. They tried comforting me, but nobody really knew how. Only you knew that when I was upset I liked to watch Lady in the Tramp in my duck pajamas while eating strawberry ice cream, and you were gone. They tried though, and looking back that's all that matters.

The whole club showed up for your funeral. It warmed my heart a little bit to see them all there, not that I doubted they would show, but because you would have. You thought they all hated you, but my God, Santana it was the exact opposite. There wasn't a dry eye in the place, and that's including Coach Sylvester. They loved you, Santana, maybe not as much as me, but they loved you in their own way.

There was a time when I though I wouldn't get through this. That I wouldn't be able to wake up in the morning without you by my side, but I had to be strong for JJ. He missed his mami just as much as I did. After you left us, Santana, he started speaking only in Spanish. It was heartbreaking and endearing at the same time. It was hard trying to talk with him, to tell him it was going to be okay, because whenever I tried to sit him down he just walked away yelling "No me gusta hablar!" It broke my heart, because that was such a Santana Lopez thing to say.

After awhile it got better, I was still hurting but the wound wasn't as fresh. JJ looks more and more like you every day, Santana. It's like I have you here with me, in the form of an almost fourteen year old boy. He's headstrong like you, but tall, like me. He has your hair and your eyes, but you can tell just by looking at him that he has my nose and mouth. His skin is the exact same caramel color that yours was, and I swear Santana, if you could hear the string of Spanish curses that come from this boy's mouth when he trips or stubs his toe you would go crazy. I know I should probably yell at him for that, but I don't because it reminds me of you.

It's our anniversary today, and you'd never guess what I'm doing right now, San. Well, you probably could, because you knew me better than anyone, butt anyways, I'm sitting out on our balcony, looking at the stars with JJ.

"Hey momma?" His still deepening voice breaks my thoughts.

"Yeah baby?" I answer, even though he hates when I call him that.

"Do you miss mami?"

His question stuns me for a moment, I feel my eyes glaze over with tears before I clear my throat and answer him.

"Every single day, JJ."

I see him get up out of the corner of my eye. He hugs me and then walks back inside, leaving me to my musings. He's always been perceptive of people, always knowing when to give space or give a hug, or in my case both. I guess I rubbed off on him.

We were seventeen when you told me to count the stars, twenty-eight when you were taken from me. I'm thirty-six now, Santana, and I haven't stopped counting. I'm going to keep counting until I see you again, until I hear you whisper a soft "Te amo, Brittany", into my ear. I won't ever stop. Three hundred fifty six thousand, eight hundred ninety three stars and counting, my love.