A/N: Well, here is part 2. I know it's been forever, sorry about that, but here is something to tide you along till part 3.. Hope it turned out okay. By the way, I re-edited chapter 1 and added a few more details along the way, there was just way too many mistakes in there for me to feel comfortable leaving it as is, so check it out. :)

Also, glee isn't mine. All mistakes are mine.

Enjoy? There will be more.

Rachel

We watch as our intruder falls asleep with an adorable lopsided smile planted on her bandaged up face. I sigh, glancing at my mother, she is still observing the woman who had broken into our home and pretty much altered our lives as soon as she buckled and listlessly crumbled to the floor. At first sight, I knew instinctively that this girl was virtually harmless, but I was not about to let my guard down so easily, not when Quinn and I have already been through some pretty insane shit over the years.

People of both genders can be manipulative, psychotic crazies, and there was no way I was going to take a chance of this girl getting the drop on us. Then she collapsed right before our eyes, and I had no other thought than to run up there and help. What I saw when we got to her caused me to gasp and drop the gun carelessly off to the side.

She was soaked from the downpour outside, pale as a ghost, and had multiple scrapes all over her face. The almost too deep, bloody slit along her throat was the worst; the sight had made my blood boil. Something bad happened to this girl, and I was determined to find out exactly what, and then make it better.

I am determined.

Quinn helped me carry her to my bathroom, and then took off to get my mother, who works in cardiology at Presbyterian university and who is the only doctor in the house. With her help, we photographed, cleaned, stitched, and redressed the young, knocked out girl before tucking her in my bed for some much needed rest and warmth.

After giving her one last look with well-trained eyes, making sure she was stable, Quinn and I left her in the care of Mom. We then politely ushered everyone else from the party out of our house. The only information they got was that the intruder was a teenage girl who was hurt and only wanted shelter.

Now, staring down at the sleeping woman named Santana, I feel an urge to hurt whoever did this to her, and more importantly, I feel the need to protect her. That is exactly what I am going to do. I have never gone against my feelings or my instincts, so I will not start tonight.

She needs help, and she needs justice for the monster who marked her for life.

"I'm calling Noah; he needs to get a team out there as soon as possible." I say almost urgently, reluctantly turning away from Santana to look at Quinn instead, a fire in my eyes that is reflected in her own. I know that with us helping Santana out, there is no chance of the bastard who did this getting away with it.

Not when we know the best officers this side of New York City.

"Here, use my cell." Quinn hands over her phone; I take it, and then shoot off the bed to go in the hallway.

I use speed dial, and wait impatiently as it rings, "Officer Puckerman speaking, how-"

"Noah, this is Rachel. I need to report an assault that happened earlier on a teenage girl. Can you come over?" I quickly cut him off, getting to the point so that Santana can get the help she needs as swiftly as possible. Friend or not, there is no time for any type of pleasantries right now.

"Oh. Okay, what happened?" Slightly taken aback, he splutters out a response.

"Just send out a squad car, I'll explain everything then." I shake my head even though he can't see it, help needs to be here now.

"Does the girl need an ambulance too?" He asks seriously, and I can hear him shifting around, getting ready to leave.

"No, I've already taken care of her." I answer, as my eyes land on the sleeping beauty in my bed.

"Oh, and bring the big head; I will accept no one else for this girl." I continue before he can get a word in, and then hang up.

Instead of going straight back into my room, I detour downstairs for some coffee, almost tripping as my dark knight zips past me to come along. As the 8 cup coffee pot brews, I lean against the bar, head coming to a rest atop the granite counter, and then next thing I know, a warm body curls around my feet.

I cannot help but smile, though it fades when Santana's face suddenly pops into my head. I knew something was off when she had to lean against the wall, and even from the slight distance between us, I could see some of the scrapes on her face.

What I would not do to make all of them magically disappear, right along with the guy who did it. She is a beautiful girl, that much is obvious, and she can't be that much younger than we are, maybe by a few years.

Not that age has anything to with the situation; I am pissed regardless.

"Hey." I startle at Quinn's voice, my head lurching off the counter in the process.

"Are you alright?" She comes over, rubbing said head as she smiles worriedly.

"Other than being scared one too many times tonight, no, no I'm not." I stare pointedly at her, and she sprouts a sheepish grin.

It turns sad though, once she realizes that I am really not alright at the moment,

"I'll fix your coffee."

I nod appreciatively, "Thanks, Q, I need it for tonight."

She only hums her agreement before heading over to the pot. I assume Mom stayed with Santana, the girl does not need to be alone, especially in case she has a nightmare, or if she wakes to no one in the room and freaks the hell out. For all I know, she could forget everything that happened due to stress.

On the other hand, she could remember everything, and become terrified.

As soon as the steaming mug of coffee is sat down in front of me, the door bell rings, and I'm about to bolt out the room when Quinn holds her hand out to stop me. She's right; I need at least a few sip of this before filling Noah in on Santana's attack. Watching her leave, I grab the handle of the mug, and start blowing to cool the coffee down.

One misjudgment and a burnt tongue later, Noah struts inside the kitchen, slightly wet from the rain that decided to slack off just enough, and the woman who gets to boss him around closely follows him. The guard dog at my feet tenses, his ears instantly perking up at seeing another new woman he has never met before inside of his territory.

Becoming alert, he shifts to where he is in front of me, guarding.

"Noah." Relieved that he is here, I slip past my one dog army, and wrap my arms around Noah's waist.

"Hey, what's going on?" He hugs me tight, before pulling back to look at me.

"Puckerman said that you needed to report an assault on a girl?" I turn away from Noah, nodding at the woman who has put my baby on edge.

"She broke into my house, and of course I drew my gun thinking she could have been dangerous, but the poor girl passed out upstairs. When Quinn and I went to go help her, we discovered that she had scrapes on her face and a cut along her throat that needed stitches." I recount what happened, a surge of renewed anger welling up.

"Did she say who attacked her?" Pulling out a notepad, detective Shannon Beiste gets down to business.

Good, I knew she was the woman for the job, no one else could possibly be any more determined than she is to put assholes behind bars.

Sighing, I continue telling them what I know, including Santana being asleep in my bed, and then wait for some type of reaction. Noah blinks at me, scratching at the stubble on his chin; he is apparently not sure what to think. Shannon seems more put together, though she too is processing the information given to them.

"We'll need to get a statement from the girl, and check to see if she can give us any other details before sending out a car." Besite informs me while shifting, and the movement has the black blob at my side doing the same, he seems to be restless, but I know the signs when he is about to charge.

Thankfully, this is not one of them.

This is what surprises me, how he is acting right now is normal behavior, yet he did nothing of the sort with Santana. I am pretty sure the girl upstairs became instant family as soon as he set eyes on her, otherwise, Santana would be in worse shape than what Quinn and I found her in.

"Do I need to be concerned about your dog, Ms Berry?" Beiste notices his posture with worry, her eyes slowly shifting from him to me.

"No, he's just cautious. Now, if you'll follow me, I'll take you on up." I give the strong, black head below me a reassuring rub, and then lead Noah and Shannon out the kitchen, wanting to get this part over and done with so that they can go find Santana's attacker.

Every second that ticks by, he could be getting farther and farther away, or he could be in a hidden place with the evidence of how he got there washed away by the storm.

This serves to infuriate me further.

When I walk in the room, my first instinct is to look at Santana, and as I do, my heart melts on the spot. She is virtually burrowed in my covers, having moved until all you can see of her is her chin and upward. The sight has me wanting to curl up underneath the down comforter with her, but more than that, it has me wanting to be the big spoon.

I honestly have to say that I have never felt more protective than I do now, with Quinn being the exception, as she is my best friend and I have had to kick some ass to save hers. Speaking of Quinn, she is sitting on the other side of the bed, a watchful eye not on Santana but on Mom, who is curled up in a chair on Santana's side of the bed.

I swear, ever since Quinn met my mother she has been crushing, hard, on the older woman. She can never keep her eyes or hands to herself, and to make matters even more confusing, Mom either doesn't notice, or doesn't care, but whatever the case, things between the two need to move forward.

Sitting in the empty space beside Santana, I carefully peel the blanket back, "Santana?"

"Santana, it's Rachel, can you wake up for me?" I rub down her arm, attempting to ease her awake.

She stirs with a whine, though does not open her eyes, and I frown, worried that I am going to scare her.

The dog now back at my feet lays his head down beside her covered leg.

I stroke back up her arm, adding a little more pressure this time, "Santana?"

"Mm.. Tired, five more minutes." She murmurs sleepily, curling up with a pout.

I smile fondly, finding her more than adorable; however, the smile fades as I remember why I'm waking her in the first place.

"I know you don't want to wake up, honey, but I need you to open your eyes for just a minute." I try once more, tone soft and understanding.

Another whine, this time accompanied by a beautiful brown eye popping open, followed by its partner. They blink a few times, adjusting, and then she slowly turns her head to look around the room, seemingly confused as to where she is. When her eyes land on me, they halt their search, and she makes a face of recognition.

When she spots her new canine buddy, a grin appears on her face for a split second before she jolts up with an expression filled with fear, a hand automatically going to the bandage on her throat, as she remembers what happened.

"Whoa, hey, don't touch it, the wound might reopen." I gently grab her wrist, keeping in mind that she might freak out from me touching her.

"I-" Breath heavy, she shakes her head, confused. "Rachel?"

She remembers my name. I want to squeal with delight, but I refrain.

"Yes. You're in my bed, safe." I reassure her, as my hand slides hesitantly into her own.

Brows furrowed, her eyes fall down to our clasped hands, making me blush and move to pull away. Someday my boldness is going to cost me a slap to the face, I just hope today is not that day, especially when Santana has been relatively calm in my presence thus far.

It feels really damn great that she is comfortable here; I'd hate to ruin it, though Santana doesn't even release her grip, she only squeezes tighter.

Santana's eyes are now on Noah and Beiste, a new wariness shining through as she jerks her hand back, "You called the cops?"

Well, that moment went straight to shit, so much for being comfortable, now she is just terrified again. Only, this time I can tell that she thinks I called them for her breaking into my house.

"San-"

"You're pressing charges? I-I thought, I mean… You know what? Never mind. It's a perfect ending to the night I've had. Here, handcuff me, there's no point in fighting it, I have nothing left to lose." My heart breaks as the emotional pain contorts Santana's face, and as she tries to be noble in turning herself in without a fight.

She has given up without even defending her case.

Moreover, what is this 'I have nothing left to lose'? Warning signals alert inside my head, they are telling me that this girl is in more trouble than I first thought, and every minute that I am with her a sinking feeling that something deeper than what happened tonight is going on.

"Ma'am that is not why we're here. Ms Berry called the department to report an assault on you, now whether she wants to press charges for the break in is solely up to her, but I doubt in your condition she would do that to you." Noah steps up to the bed, and quickly, yet calmly mollifies Santana's fears.

We all watch as she relaxes somewhat, her hands falling back into her lap, but she then seems to mentally curl in on herself as her eyes begin to glisten with unshed tears.

"What's your name, darlin?" Beiste asks her, while moving closer.

Santana looks up, a lone tear shed down her cheek, "Santana. Santana Lopez."

"Okay, Santana, I'm detective Shannon Beiste, and this here officer Noah Puckerman. Can you tell us what happened tonight?" Shannon introduces herself and Noah, with a pointed thumb in his direction, and even though I told them what I know, asks Santana to relay her own details.

I listen in as she does just that, telling them what she had told me, with a few added details now that she is more alert.

It both saddens and pisses me off all over again.

"Do you remember what he looked like other than his face? Like, what he was wearing, any markings or tattoos, or even the color of his eyes?" Noah inquires with a deep frown, after Santana is finished speaking, and has his notepad at the ready.

"He was tall, at least 6' 2", white, brown eyes I think, and he had on a black sweatshirt with army fatigues." Santana replies quietly, eyes glazed over as her fingers pick restlessly at my blanket.

I can't help but reach out to still one of them, wanting to quell at least some of her nervousness. Thankfully, it works, and the corners of her lips even quirk up in an attempted grin, before she timidly gazes down.

"Great, that should definitely help. How about your bag, what did it look like?" Writing in her own notepad, Shannon continues more questions.

I can tell Santana is becoming tired though, so I hope they're almost done. I'd rather them be out in the street looking for this guy.

"It's just a regular black duffel bag, nothing special." Santana shrugs, while unconsciously rubbing the pads of my fingertips.

The sensation created has me squirming, it is a pleasant tickle, and one that I suddenly wish was felt on other sensitive body parts. My hand twitches at the thought, and then I'm blushing for having thought of anything even remotely more intimate than what she is doing to me now.

How very appropriate of you, Rachel, wanting a girl who is in a very vulnerable state. You're supposed to be caring for her, not thinking of ways for that delightful feeling to continue everywhere on your very tuned in, bare body!

A throat clearing makes me flinch out of my chastising thoughts, and then I blush under five sets of eyes.

"You okay? You were far out in la la land." Noah, with his brotherly concern, rests a hand on my shoulder.

"Yeah, sorry." I embarrassingly laugh it off, feeling a sudden urge to bury my head away from everyone's attention.

"Alright, Santana, that should be enough. I'm going to go ahead and call this in; we'll get a couple cars out searching for this guy ASAP." Beiste bids her farewell with a nod directed at us all, and moves for a swift exit out of the amounting awkwardness.

"Here's my card, S, call if you remember anything else. I'll be in touch when something pops up, until then, let my little Jew babe take care of ya, yeah?" Holding out his card, Noah uses his charm, and a giggle worthy wink to warm her up to him.

Rasing a skeptical eyebrow, Santana takes the offered card with a mumbled thanks. Noah smiles at her, but she only bites her lip and gazes off to the side of my head.

He nods in understanding, stepping away, "I'm gonna go catch me a bad guy, see you lovely ladies later."

Quinn sighs, following him out with her camera in hand. The shots that she took will definitely help put Santana's attacker behind bars, where he definitely belongs.

"You should lie back down, I'm sure your energy is depleted by now." I refocus on Santana, not that it was hard - seeing as she's in my bed - and help her snuggle back down under the covers.

"You don't have to let me stay here, I can-"

"No, I don't have to, but you were assaulted tonight, so what kind of person would I be if I were to just let you walk out of here? Cruel, that's what kind, and I am nothing of the sort." Shaking my head, I hold my palm up, cutting off her ridiculous idea to leave in her state. Besides, I want her to stay; I want her here.

I want Santana safe.

"Oh. Are you going to press charges? Because technically, I didn't actually 'break' in. Your sliding door was unlocked." Santana looks away, grumbling in an adorable away, as nerves take back over.

I grin, amused by her defense, and in awe of how even her side profile is gorgeous.

"Santana, look at me." I request softly, not wanting her to think I'm about to go off on some crazy rant about technicalities and break-ins.

When she hesitantly turns her head, an almost grumpy expression on her face attempting to hide the scared girl underneath, I tentatively extend my hand, tucking some rogue strands of hair behind a cute ear.

"I wouldn't care if you had broken the damn glass to get inside, as long as you're safe and warm. That is all that matters. Now, if you broke in to steal, or to hurt my family, then things would be different, your ass would have been on the ground, but luckily you are not the bad guy in this situation." I tell her honestly, a teasing lilt to my voice.

She chuckles lightly, and the sound sends pleasant chills down my spine.

I want, no, need to hear it again.

"Rachel's right, you're staying, no ifs ands or buts about it." Walking back over, Quinn agrees with me, a challenging smirk on her face.

She is daring Santana to protest.

Santana only blinks, taken off guard by the teasing, yet serious tone of one Quinn Fabray. I'll tell you one thing, Quinn and I make the best team, we have each other's backs on everything, and if someone starts shit, we work together in knocking them down.

Metaphorically and or physically.

"Bed's comfy anyways, so whatever." Santana mumbles her response, giving in, albeit a little irritably.

I believe she has had enough for one night, she seems to be becoming a bit overwhelmed by everything, and the scowl on her face melding into a deep, thoughtful expression only solidifies my theory.

"I'm going to go get you something to drink, is Gatorade alright?" I reluctantly stand up, not ready to leave her, but I know she needs to rehydrate.

I sigh when all I receive is a distracted nod in return.

"Are you hungry? When was the last time you ate?" I ask, while eying her, hoping to get something other than a nod this time.

"Not hungry, my stomach is in knots." Her answer isn't what I wanted to hear, it only means that she is either thinking too hard on what happened to her, or thinking on something else that is making her feel sick.

I don't particularly like it; in fact, I wish I could take all of her pain away so that she doesn't have to think of anything bad.

Ever.

Unfortunately, that is not possible, so it hurts like a bitch seeing her like this.

"Okay, I'll be right back." I tell her, and then quickly leave my room, wanting to get back as fast as possible.

The protective side of me doesn't want to spend any time longer than necessary away from her. It's like I have this strong urge to be by her side, and when I walk off, like I am doing now, I feel a pull trying to tug me back towards her.

I don't know what the hell to think of these feelings, but the intensity of them is almost staggering, and I can already tell that they are going to drive me insane.

Next chapter will be them learning more about each other, and maybe some Quinn/Shelby development..