This is a fill of a prompt sent to me by Demon ninja of the leaf:

Santana shouldn't have confronted Sebastian on her own.
Sebastian is willing to do anything to win nationals and bring down ND, so he
rapes or seriously injures one of their strongest singers.

Bonus: the cellist are in on it
he doesn't find the tape recorder
WARBLERS TO THE RESCUE
tie in to Brittany's alien invasion comment and she helps Santana through
this.

This contains mentions of self harm and obvious mentions/reference/some discriptions of rape, so if those are triggers for you, please don't read!

I had to split the episode dialogue for this to fit, but I haven't changed it, just made it so the Warblers entered a little later than they do in the episode, so everything is canon, up to the 'Micheal' ep.

Oh, also, I used a song in this, and normally I just skip over the lyrics of the songs, and you can completely do that, it will still make sense, but it will make more sense if you read the lyrics ''cos I use the lyrics to…prompt her thoughts and I don't directly refer to the lyrics. Also, I leave a lot of the interpretation up to the reader, because I have interpreted the song a specific way for both Santana's situation, and her relationship with Brittany, so again, I haven't directly referred to the lyrics, more Santana's reaction to them.

Reviews would be much apprecited, and I hope you injoy this, although, maybe I hope you feel that this affects you, as this first part is heavy on the angst. I have this all planned out and many section written, so hopefully it won't take me too long to update.

Thanks!

I remember pain; so, so much pain. The kind of pain that after a while, your body forgets is pain, because you can't remember feeling anything different.

I remember I heard the material of my dress tear and felt my thighs exposed, then the first bite on the base of my neck above the still closed blazer, and my body became numb. Numb like all the other times I had slept with guys in order to convince myself that Brittany was just a phase. But this wasn't like all the other times; I wasn't in control this time. I wasn't doing this in an effort to be who I thought I needed to be this time.

This time there was pain. Not a physical pain, it was like…mental, emotional pain.

Humiliation.

Loss of control.

Shame.

Self disgust.

Blame.

And it was so much worse.

"I was better." It was statement. Fuelled by adrenaline and power and the knowledge that I was better. The best feeling in the word.

"You weren't even close!" He tried to dismiss me easily, but his voice betrayed his frustration, knowing he had been beaten.

"I was better!" I repeated. There was no way I was letting him get the last word in, let alone let him think that I agreed with him.

Suddenly he halted and twisted towards me, anger making his face utterly ugly. It was so quick I only just stopped myself before colliding into him, our bodies practically touching.

He laughed and pushed me. I pushed back. Hard; and walked forwards, expecting him to back off. But instead he pulled at the lapels of my blazer and half lifted half shoved me backwards, my legs hitting the chair my body landing sprawled across it, fedora flying off somewhere to my left when I put my hand out in an attempt to steady myself.

He had somehow ended right next to me and wobbled the back of the chair causing me to shift and roll almost off the chair, the unexpected weight and pressure on my wrist and hand on the floor caused white hot pain to shoot through my entire arm.

I had twisted it.

But it was soon the last of my worries.

"Get up. Now." I was still fighting him, determined to show him no weakness, so I stood, pulling my blazer straight. The hot, sticky, heavy plastic of the recorder pressing against the underside of my breast a grounding comfort whilst I pushed my hair over my shoulders. He strode purposefully towards me, and suddenly the wall was behind me and my arms were reaching above my head towards the ceiling, trapped by one of his own surprisingly smooth hands. Tendrils of pain working their way down my arm, but I couldn't let him see he was causing me pain.

His other hand hovered over my chest for a few seconds, but I felt his body…shudder and his face contort, repulsed by the idea of touching something so obvious feminine. He pressed it against my hip instead, where the tear in my dress stopped.

"I bet you've let loads of guys pin you like this right? Spic slut." I looked into his eyes and refused to make a sound.

I think.

I hope.

I think I still had enough fight in me to be stubborn and not let him know that inside I was screaming, begging for him to let me go. For him to stop.

Instead I tried to act angry, to show him he hadn't won. "Get off me." My heart rate was increasing rapidly, anticipating what was going to happen. "Now. Let me go!" He just pressed his body harder against mine and the coldness in his eyes was terrifying. "Please. I don't want this."

I think my voice sounded broken.

I think I felt helpless.

I think he had started to win.

He kept my blazer closed and my dress on, his access made easier by the tear he had caused. He pulled my underwear to the side as two; maybe three fingers were used, forced deep.

His hand didn't move, instead he bit at my neck again, this time until the skin tore and blood welled to the surface, then again, slightly lower. He moved his head up and smiled at me, showing me the small reddish smears over his front teeth. He spat on the floor, the splat of it against the polished wooden floor hit my ears like it was more than just a mouthful of spit and blood. "Wouldn't want to swallow any of that. Don't know where you've been. What nasty, spic, whore disease you may have." He slammed the hands above my head against the wall, the hand between my legs still not moving.

I think I cried out in pain.

Then sudden movement, the sleeve of his blazer pulling at the skin of my thigh. I think I tried to move my legs, to push him away, but it just caused the burning friction of his sleeve intensify and my body slumped in defeat.

There was an angry red mark there for a week. I kept itching at it, pulling at the skin, pinching it between my fingers to remind myself.

To punish myself maybe.

I remember his breathing increasing, but not from arousal, there was no expected hardness pressing into my leg and I could hear him whispering every now and then "Imagine its Blaine. Imagine it's some cute, preppy guy beneath me. It's Blaine. Blaine."

Another sound escaped my throat. It could have been a whimper, I don't remember, but I remember him laughing at me, and a slight pressure in his trousers.

"Wouldn't have thought you could feel anything down there anymore. Or that you would care. It's it pity I'm gay, then I could really hurt you. Breaking one of New Directions members for ever would be a fine moment. No way you would be getting up on that stage in some stupid short, sparkly dress huh?" Another hard thrust, another scrap of his sleeve and increasing pressure against my thigh, another traitorous sound from my throat. "Then, one member down, you wouldn't have enough to compete. And I'm sure I could persuade a couple of others to get lost too, just in case. Maybe I could try this out again, I'm sure that pretty little blonde thing Blaine told me you're now fucking would be more than willing to spread her legs."

Another thrust.

"No, please, not her." Weak. Broken. Pathetic. A breathless laugh right next to my ear.

"Then again, she's so stupid, and even more of a slut than you, so I'm not sure she would notice." Another thrust.

The grip on my wrists increased and I think I screamed because the next thing I heard was a banging on the doors to my right.

"Sebastian? What's going on? Are you guys okay? We can't hear music anymore and I thought I heard someone scream." He must have locked the doors, because I could hear the handle and lock rattle, could see the door buckle within the frame, but it didn't open.

He pulled away from me as if burnt and wiped his fingers on the bottom of my dress, face disgusted. My hands were roughly pulled down – still held above my head, forgotten – and walked away a few steps. He turned back towards me, face once again controlled, a smug smile twisting his lips.

"I was going to get Armand and Louis to finish you, let them have some fun." His head, already tilted at a patronising angle, twisted towards the cellists, still in the room and their eyes shinning with delight. "But, lucky for you, my team mates," his voice turned harsh, clawing at my ears, "are nosey and impatient, and have spoilt my, uh, grand finale." His hands twisted flamboyantly, then he pulled the cuffs of his shirt downwards so a clean white strip encircled his wrists and his back straightened.

I felt a sticky, wet blob on my face and heard the click of his heels as he walked towards the door.

Spit.

He spat on me.

I wanted to be disgusted by this, feel angry, but all I could feel was that I deserved it as I pulled at my ruined dress and turned towards the now opened doors.

As if drawing strength from the protection afforded by the rest of The Warblers, a spark of anger coursed through my body, enough to allow me to stand up straight and stride towards him.

"I was better." I repeated, strength back in my voice but not enough for it to sound convincing in my ears, and my legs were trembling and my stomach was threatening to bring up my lunch. "Now tell me what you put in that slushie!" Yes. My voice was even stronger.

Better.

Focus on the reason I came here in the first place, to get back at Sebastian, make sure Blaine gets justice and New Directions gain even more strength against The Warblers. I could pretend what just happened…hadn't; if I just. Kept. Focused.

"Rock salt." I saw his shoulder rise in a half hearted shrug "But its okay." He said it so nonchalantly, it only increased my anger. Yeah, much better, anger. I needed this anger.

"Why is it okay? I just told you Blaine has to have surgery." I almost yelled, I couldn't believe how he was acting, even some of the other Warblers looked uneasy, and I noticed some of them were shuffling around, but I couldn't see what they were doing.

"It's okay, because I didn't put anything in this one." I didn't even have time to react, he was standing so close to me and the cold slushie slapped against my skin. It covered the lower half of my face looking like some over enthusiastic nose bleed from a 1960's horror movie. It dripped down onto my chest, down the front of my dress, reminding me of what he had just done to me.

Suddenly the anger dissipated, and a horrible chill passed down my spine, the feeling of numbness returning spreading across the synapses of my neurons, transported through my veins.

A few smothered laughs wafted through the room as they slowly filed out, leaving just Trent and Sebastian.

"Nice choice of song by the way. Very," Sebastian paused dramatically; head tilted, fingers outstretched towards me and a smug smile showing his front teeth. "Appropriate for what went…down." His eyes flickered to the tear at my dress, and suddenly I felt sick again. I clenched my jaw and forced myself to meet his eyes when they returned to my face. "And what can happen again if I need it to. I hear blondes are more fun anyway."

My fists clenched, but it was a reflex action, I had no anger and no fight left. Just desperation, nausea, disgust.

Trent was still looking straight at me as Sebastian marched out of the hall. "I'm sorry. About Blaine. And the slushie. Tell him, tell him I'll come visit when I-"

"Trent! Come!" He jumped and hurried out, following the others, leaving me alone. Then I heard footsteps behind me, and my brain screamed at me that I wasn't alone, the cellists were still there. The cellists that wouldn't stop, that would take pleasure in completely breaking me, and without caring what anyone would think, I ran.

I ran as fast as I could out of the hall and out of the school to my car. But even then I didn't feel safe, even with the all the doors locked, the engine rumbling familiarly beneath me and control over pushing the peddles when I wanted to; I still didn't feel safe.

I don't remember the drive home, but I must have and I pulled into my garage, sending a quick text to Brittany, explaining that the duel was taking longer than expected and I would see her at school the next day.

I used the back stairs to get up to my room, bypassing the all the family rooms in the house. No one was home, but I couldn't walk through the main house when I still had this…mark over me. I couldn't infect the rest of the house with my stupid mistake.

I reached my room, gasping for air, even though I hadn't done anything strenuous. I pulled my clothes off my body as quickly as possible not caring if they ripped more. They were already ruined and were still sticky and stained from the slushie, the artificial red looked like blood to me and I shoved the bundle of black and red into my bin.

I ripped the small tape recorder from where Brittany and I had carefully secured it a few hours before, and threw it towards the direction of my bed with a broken sob following it.

I stared at the bin for a few seconds, the metallic pink outside too bright, too happy. Brittany picked it for me a couple of weeks ago, so it was still incredibly clean.

She said that now we were girlfriends she got to buy me domesticated and practical things that she knew I wouldn't choose myself, but that I couldn't get rid of them because my girlfriend gave them to me.

It made me smile for a second before I instantly felt sick.

Music.

I needed music.

And a shower.

I walked into my bathroom and twisted the taps until the water pressure was as high as possible and the heat was enough to burn. I caught my reflection in the mirror and my stomach twisted again in disgust as I stumbled backwards into my bedroom. I needed the room to be filled with steam before I could re-enter. I couldn't look at myself.

My cheeks were wet but I couldn't remember starting to cry, the salt stinging my lips slightly where the tears gathered.

I must have bitten them at some point, but I couldn't remember.

My nose had started running without my noticing and I was forced to take huge gulps of air through my mouth.

I was loosing control over myself.

I grabbed my iPod and tried to put it in the speaker docs that sat on my desk, but my hand was shaking too much, and my vision was so blurred by tears that I couldn't access the coordination to do it.

The speakers were edged by two pictures in homemade purple frames. On one side a picture of Britt; smiling widely into the camera leant forward slightly so her loose dancing shirt dipped, showing the top of her favourite pink and black poke-a-dot bra. On the other side, one of the two of us Quinn took whilst in New York. We were busy being us, so we weren't looking at the camera, instead crouched down together, knees brushing and shoulders leaning into each other. At our feet, a duck is pulling the last of my pretzel from Brittany's fingers, whilst my hand encircles her wrist, ready to pull her away to safety if that duck so much as tried to nip at her.

I failed to push the iPod into the small slot again and screamed out in frustration, slamming my empty fist against the desk.

Once.

Twice.

The pain steadied my hands and when I tired again, the iPod slotted satisfyingly into place.

I must have left it on the last time I used it because I heard the last few notes of some Adele song before silence, then a lone electric guitar plucking out a slow, gentle ostinato. I didn't register what was playing, not even when muffled drums and the lyrics started.

Jesus Christ that's a pretty face

The kind you'd find on someone that can save

I couldn't help but look at the pictures. Look at her. And suddenly what happened seamed so much more real, my knees buckled, my chest tightened and I crumpled onto the floor like an industrial strength, piston-driven metal plate was pressing down on me.

If they don't put me away,

Well, it'll be a miracle

My body curled into the foetal position.

It was too much.

Everything.

The memory was still so fresh I could still smell him, still feel his touch like a cruel phantom tingle; I couldn't get away from it.

Do you believe you're missing out?

That everything good is happening somewhere else

With nobody in your bed the nights hard to get through

Tears started to fall down my face, or perhaps they had always been there.

My mouth, though open, remained silent.

My limbs started to shake, my chest heaving, from the lack of oxygen and the forced attempts to equilibrate the levels again. And throughout, the tears kept falling, like some kind of involuntary emotional cleansing of my body.

And I

Will die

All alone

And when I

Arrive,

I won't know anyone

My body was still shaking, whether from the aftermath of the sobs or cold from being in nothing but my underwear or disgust at what I had done, I didn't know but at some point the flow tears had stilled, those that had already fallen, dried on my face. Small trails of delicate, thin, salty crust like the top of a frozen puddle.

Jesus Christ I'm alone again

So what did you do those three days you were dead?

I couldn't let Brittany know about this. She's already felt too much of this kind of pain.

I couldn't add to it. I couldn't remind her of it.

'Cos this problems gonna last

More than the weekend.

I saw ivory coloured tendrils of steam sneak into my room, a welcome invitation and I pushed off from the floor and dragged myself into my en suite. I hoped that somehow the music wouldn't be able follow me in there, but if anything it was louder. It pounded at my ears and bounced off the clean while tiled walls.

Jesus Christ I'm not scared of dying

I'm a little bit scared of what comes after

Do I get the gold chariot do I float through the ceiling?

My eyes were drawn towards the two razors that sat in the tray next to the soaps and bottles and brushes. My hand reached towards the newest one, but flashes of being found before I could die and forced to explain everything over and over again spread through my mind and I pulled my hand back as if bitten.

I couldn't do that. The chance that it might go wrong, that it wouldn't work and that I would be forced to tell what happened was too high.

Do I

Divide

And fall apart

I stepped fully into the shower cubicle and left the door open. The water was gloriously, painfully hot like a million red hot needles falling across my body. It felt like I stood there for ages, but it can only have been a few seconds, I could still hear the same song.

I grabbed my nail brush and a new bar of soap.

'Cos my bright

Is too slight

To hold back all my dark

I began to scrub, starting at my neck. I broke the skin over the teeth marks, pulling at the tiny scabs, the feeling intensified by the water pounding from above.

Peace.

And this ship

Went down in sight of land

I scrubbed for so long and so hard that even my skin turned red and my body was humming with a dull burning, satisfying pain.

And at the gates

Does Thomas

Ask to see my hands

By the time I had finished scrubbing my body once, the tears had started again, joined by the water pouring down my face, the sobs swallowed by the water that pounded off the shower tray and the lyrics that bounced off the tiles.

And I began to scrub again.

And again.

I know you're coming in the night like a thief

But I've had some time O Lord, to hone my lying technique

The brush and soap fell from grip and my body collapsed against the now warm tiles, sobs breaking from my chest as I slid down the wall, curling into a ball.

I know you think that I'm someone you can trust

But I'm scared I'll get scared and I swear I'll try to nail you back up

My sobs turned into her name, repeated like a mantra over and over again and I wrapped my arms over my head, pulling it downwards towards my chest.

So do you think that we could work out a sign?

So I'll know it's you and that it's over so I won't even try

But it didn't help. Hearing her name from my lips made me feel guilty, like just thinking about her, let alone saying her name, after what I had done infected her. Made her as dirty as me.

I know you're coming for the people like me

My left hand shot to the side, my curled fist slamming against the wall. The pain from my twisted wrist and the flat unresisting tiled wall shuddered around my body. It allowed me to gain control over my breathing and I slowed my sobbing until it stopped completely.

But we all got wood and nails

And we turn out hate in factories

My fingers pulled at the skin that was a deeper red than the rest where his sleeve had caused a friction burn.

We all got wood and nails

And we turn out hate in factories

I kept scratching until the red irritated skin began to show tiny speckles of blood, which was immediately washed away by the cascading water from above.

I scratched again, bringing the blood to the surface again.

Washed away.

Scratch.

Blood.

Washed away.

Scratch.

Blood.

We all got wood and nails

And we sleep inside of this machine

The single guitar plucking the ostinato was left again, then silence before the music burst back again. My hands fell from my body and I slowly uncurled until I lay flat on the shower tray completely drained as the finial bars of the song fed through into the bathroom.

A new song must have started but all I could hear was the blood pounding in my ears.

I didn't know how long I lay there, but I eventually stood. I must have turned the water off because there were no more needles hitting my skin. Just an almost white room from the density of the steam that didn't make me feel safe anymore, but made me feel claustrophobic as I stumbled from the cubical towards where I knew my towels were.

I reached forwards, hands searching. As soon as my fingers brushed against one I pulled and quickly wrapped it around my torso and tucked it underneath my arms. I took a step then stopped and reconsidered. I tugged the towel undone forcefully and moved it down to my waist, yanked another towel off the rack and wrapped it around my shoulders.

Like a stupid fucking towel could protect me.

I'm sure the material once felt soft, but instead it scratched against my skin, like they were made out of Velcro.

But my body was completely covered.

Like a stupid fucking towel could protect me.

When I walked into my room, the first thing I saw was that pink bin and the nauseous feeling returned knowing what was inside. I searched blindly around on the top of my desk, fingers running through the papers and pens reaching for my lighter.

I needed anything he had touched to go.

The cold metal of my lighter was strangely calming and I grabbed the nearest piece of paper, flicking the lid to ignite the gas, at the last minute checking the paper wasn't something from Brittany.

Of course it was.

I picked up the next and the next and the next.

All from Brittany.

All cute notes or stories or to do lists or pictures or 'Our Future' promises.

My face was screwed in anger, but there were no more tears to fall and finally a plain sheet of paper was pulled in front of my face.

I lit the bottom, ready to drop it, but instead I was fascinated watched the orange and black eat away at the paper.

I must have moved my free hand, fingers teasing the flames because I could feel the heat intensly.

Fire. I think I was trying to purge my sins. The baptism hadn't worked.

I dropped the half burnt page into the bin when the pain in my fingers wasn't nearly enough.

More purging of sins.

It didn't work. Even when the clothes were just a black lump in the bottom of the bin, I still felt…

And now I had marred the bin, her present to me, with foul black smudges. I was ruining her and her memory without even being near her.

Still covered in my Velcro towels my legs collapsed, my body bent in half and I suddenly couldn't breathe.

I needed her so much.

But I couldn't go to her.

I couldn't…infect her.

My very touch would taint her.

She had already being touched by…by…this too much already, and I wasn't going to let it hurt her any more.

"Hey Britt! Hey! Let me in! It's Tucker." Fourteen year old Brittany and I were sharing the cabin along with another girl, but she had snuck out to visit her boyfriend, so we had decided to share her bed. We did it often at cheerleading camp, and this year was no different. Besides, it was comfier than mine, and had a view of the stars, right beneath the window. At the sound of his voice though I jumped, started towards my bed before turning back to Brittany and pushed her towards the door then ran, climbing under the covers just as she reached the door. She liked him, she had told me. He was on one of the other cheerleading groups and they had gotten talking about motor cross one session. She liked him.

"What are you doing here? You know that boys aren't allowed in the girls cabins!" She tried to whisper, but it was loud enough for anyone close to hear, like when a child tries to whisper something they are excited about. "You could get in trouble. I don't want you to get in trouble because of me." I couldn't help but smile at this, then instantly chastised myself, I shouldn't be this enamoured with her, she is just my best friend.

I always was good at lying to myself.

"Well, you're worth it Britt. Anyways, I thought we could, uh, you know, play a game. Let me in and I'll tell you." I could see her shadow jump out of the corner of my eye and heard her hands clap once in excitement as she walked over to her bed, followed by Tucker after he shut and locked the door.

That should have been my first warning. But I knew she thought he was cute and sweet, and all the other girls were tripping over themselves to get him to notice them. So I ignored it, and just pulled the cover closer to my chest.

"It's called, uh, 'Alien Invasion'…yeah, uh, I'm an alien from a visiting planet, and I don't have any friends-"

"This game sounds sad. I don't want to play a sad game Tucker."

"No! No!" He grabbed her hands, and my fist tightened around the edge of the blanket before I could stop it, although I refused to register the reason or acknowledge the action, even when I felt my nails dig into my palm. "No, it's not sad, 'cos you, you're the uh, nice human that, uh, becomes my friend and helps me understand things like, uh, science and culture and shit." His right hand had moved to her thigh, bare except for the indecently short regulation cheer shorts we all had to wear.

She looked down at his hand, which had started to move down to her knee, then slowly made it's way back up towards the bottom of her shorts. "Okay." She whispered. Took a breath. Then nodded. "Okay." She repeated.

That was the second sign I should have noticed. It was the tone of voice she used when she was only agreeing to avoid confrontation, or when she thought agreeing would make the other person happy, regardless of what she actually wanted.

But I ignored it, like the last.

She should be 'playing games' with cute boys on other cheerleading teams. She shouldn't be sharing a bed with me staring at the stars, trying to make out shapes and renaming every one accordingly even though she knew the proper names of all of them.

I couldn't see his face, but he must have smiled at her while he slowly pushed her back against the bed, spreading her legs a little so that he could sit on the bed between them. He moved one hand to her hip, the other still moving over her thigh, each time reaching higher and higher. "So, I'm an alien, yeah, and, uh, well, I've never seen a human before. What's your name human?" She giggled softly, any unease forgotten in the benign start to his game.

"Brittany. Brittany S. Pierce. Do you have a name Alien?" She stuck out her hand for him to shake, and he looked between her face and her hand a couple of times, before taking it.

"You can call me Tucker." He kept his hold on her hand, moving it upwards, her face stayed amused, if slightly confused, then I couldn't see her anymore. He had her hand pinned above her head, his other hand shuffling around by their hips, then suddenly moving her other hand so that they were both above her head,

"Tucker? What are you doing?" She sounded…curious, but not afraid.

Not yet.

"You're teaching me about biology, see, I've got this pain, between my legs, I thought you could help me, uh, relieve it." Suddenly the shuffling made sense in my head, and my whole body froze. I didn't know what to do. I knew what he was trying to do, but I couldn't see Brittany, I didn't know if she knew what he was intimating, or whether she wanted it to happen or not.

Then the most horrible sound tore through the heavy silence in the cabin "No. No. Stop." I could hear him trying to reassure her, tell her she would enjoy it, that it wouldn't hurt that much when she cried out again. "Tucker! STOP! Please!" Her voice was tinged with fear and tears, and my body acted automatically, pulling myself from under the covers and towards the bed.

"Get the fuck away from her you pig!" To me it seamed like hours before I reached her, before I could pull at his legs to get him off her, before I could scratch at his skin. But it can only have been a few seconds, as my surprise attack caught him off balance, and I easily pulled him off the bed and onto the floor. As I stood over him, between him and Brittany, protecting her, I was so angry I couldn't think what to say. "Get the fuck out of this cabin, and don't you dare even look at her again." He was sat on the floor, naked from the waist down, a look of horror or shock on his face. He still didn't move, and I could feel Brittany grabbing at the back of my night shirt. When I heard a strangled sob from her and the fist pulling harder at my shirt, I stepped towards him and slapped him hard across his face. "Fuck off! Now!"

Reality finally caught up with him and he ran, probably back to his own cabin, I didn't care. As soon as he had moved from the floor I turned towards her, pulling her fist from the back of my shirt and dragging her sobbing, shaking body into my lap. I looked at her, still with her shorts on in the right place and I let out a long breath that I didn't even realise I hadn't let myself take since Tucker entered the cabin. I ran my fingers through her long hair, every so often massaging at her scalp making soothing sounds. I let her cry. If it was me I would want to be alone, but I knew, when she was upset, really upset, she just liked to be able to cry, whilst still knowing someone was there with her.

After what must have been hundreds of sobs, they began to slow and she shifted her body so she was straddling my waist, her body slumped against my own and her face nuzzled into my neck. Every so often I heard her take a deep breath. She told me later it was because she needed to smell me, it comforted her, and reminded her that he had gone. At the time I just thought all the crying had disrupted her breathing pattern.

When the sobs stopped and her body stopped shaking, I wriggled my left arm from between us pulling her hair away from her neck so I would whisper into her ear. "Britt. Let's go to my bed. I know the view isn't as nice, but, um" I tried to think of any reason other than 'but at lest some guy didn't try to rape you on it' and I pressed a kiss to the exposed skin above her ear to buy me time. "But, at lest it's warmer, away from the window. Yeah?" I felt her nod against me, but she didn't move off my lap. I gently pushed at her body until she had moved enough so I could untangle my legs from her then pulled her across the room to my bed. I didn't know if she would want me in the bed with her after what had happened, but she wouldn't let go of my hand and when I didn't sit down straight away she tugged until I climbed under the cover with her. She instantly tangled our legs together, pulled my arms to sit around her hips whilst her own arms twisted to move beneath my shirt sitting against my ribs.

She was still for so long, I presumed she had fallen asleep.

I couldn't sleep, there was too much anger coursing through my body for that. I saw my clock out of the corner of my eye, it was three hours since he had entered the cabin and her breath was even and slow, I could feel it flitting across my collarbone.

It felt amazing, and I could help but hold her tighter. Trying to protect and comfort every inch of her. I felt her head shift, warm lips pressed against my neck over and over. Her hands moved higher to just below my armpits, pressing against the side of my breasts; back down and gripped at my hips.

"San? Sanny?" I cupped her face and pulled her lips towards mine, gently, barely touching, letting her know I was listening, her voice thick and lower than normal. "Make me forget it. Make me feel better. Please." I pulled away in shock, I needed to look into her eyes, to be sure she asked what I thought she was.

"Do, do you mean." I couldn't look at her eyes and my voiced lowered in volume. "Sex? I mean, are you sure you want to?" She kissed the bridge of my nose then my lips again.

"Please. Make me feel something other than him." The desperation in her voice made my heart ache. And everything clicked in my head. I don't know why I was surprised, every time she hurt herself when she was little she needed to be touched near the injury to make her feel better. The strange, unique way her body reacted to life in such a tactile mannor.

But we hadn't gone as far as sex before.

Although I would never have admitted it, when we finally did have sex, I had wanted it to be…special. I had wanted it to be like every Disney movie that made her face light up and glow with happiness.

"Please." Her quite, soft voice cut through my churning thoughts, making the decision for me. I never could say no to her, and then was no different. So I kissed her once more on each cheek before I pulled my shirt off; then hers.

That evening I did everything she told me to without pause. I watched in wonder as I learnt new parts of her body, saw new expressions cross her face, felt new, unbreakable connections build between us. There wasn't a moment where we weren't touching.

The next morning though, it was obvious that the memories hadn't left Brittany, that it was still bothering her. She would flinch every time someone other than me touched her. Every time a male voice was heard louder than speaking volume she physically recoiled and folded around me. We only went to one other party. It took barely twenty minutes before some douche bag grabbed her arse and her face paled to almost ghost white as she clutched at the front of my shirt and my arm, so hard that when she let go there were four small white finger prints on my skin.

For three weeks she was a nervous, not-quite-Brittany, but no one other than Quinn noticed or cared. She had managed to switch with the other girl in our cabin, and for those three weeks we would regularly spend the evening with Brittany crying herself to sleep between us. Sometimes silently, sometimes so loudly and violently I was surprised the whole cabin didn't shake in time with her.

The last two weeks of camp Brittany was better. She no longer cried herself to sleep and Quinn only had to sleep with us twice more. She was still nervous around large groups of guys and showed no interest in the parties, but during cheer practises she was boisterous, happy, energetic Britt again.

We had sex again too. But I would only let her wandering hands go that far when I was sure Quinn was asleep, or on the rare nights that she wasn't there.

By the time we got back to Lima, she was willing to talk about it, not just work through her feelings and confusion by touch and being touched. It took another three months of talking to me, and to a councillor in the neighbouring town before she was my Britt again.

I couldn't let her be near that kind of pain again. She had gone through it once, and was so strong. So very strong. I wouldn't be the one to make her do it again.

A/N: Okay, so a couple of things that I didn't want to put in the top author's note…

Firstly, Sebastian only used his fingers because, personally, I see him as really gay, that even the rush of power and control wouldn't be enough for him to actually want to use anything other than his fingers, hence why the cellists were there.

Secondly, the racial slurs. I changed my mind about 20 times, taking them out, putting them in, taking them out, putting them in. I decided to leave them, as it is canon that Sebastian has used racial slurs to hurt her, so I figured he wouldn't let the opportunity to hurt her both physically but also insult her about who she is. So yeah. I hate them, but I thought it was in character for him to say them, so they stayed.

I hoped this lived up to what you expect Demon ninja! Thanks for reading, reviews are most welcome :D