Hey there, wonderful readers! Here's something that I was mulling around in my head that I thought might entertain you. This is not a romantic 'Pucktana' fic, they're just a pretty interesting pair of buddies to me. For the minor Spanish I have, the translations are at the bottom.


Upside Down

"Wake up, girl," a boy with light brown hair barked. In response, the girl he spoke to let out a soft curse. "I said, wake up."

The small Latina girl, with hair as dark as night and eyes to match, finally sat up in her bed, if you could even call it that. It was just a beat up mattress with uneven springs and a musty smell. Sleepiness tugged at the girl's eyelids, making it harder for her to keep from snapping at the boy, even though he deserved it. She wasn't a morning person and he was intentionally testing her tolerance.

"I'm up," she said with a soft yawn. Rubbing her eyes with her hands, she attempted to pull herself further from sleep and closer to full awareness. A great part of her mind begged for more rest, not wanting to let go of the sweet bliss her dreams rarely allotted her.

"Good," the boy declared. He crossed his scrawny arms across his chest and looked down at her through narrowed eyes. "You have ten minutes until we leave you."

"Fine, now get out." Her patience reached its end. The boy let out a snort, giving her a hateful sneer before stomping out of her room.

'Finally,' she thought. Slowly, she rose from her bed with a stretch, yawning as she did so. The room was quiet once she closed her mouth except for the soft pops that came from her back. A content sigh escaped her lips once she popped out all the kinks she could from her spine. She padded her way to her small dresser and looked into the cracked mirror that was on top of it. The reflection she saw was the same as always, not that she expected it to be any different.

She still had two eyes so dark that the pupils blended with the irises which were framed by equally dark lashes, tan pimple-free skin as smooth and soft as silk, a pair of plump red lips that had yet to be enjoyed by anyone and long, glossy black tresses. Her face remained calm, the picture perfect image of stoicism.

"Another day in the life of Santana Lopez, where the most exciting thing to happen is quietly telling off a stupid bed-wetting boy who thinks the mullet is the coolest hairstyle ever," she muttered to her reflection. A glint of amusement flashed in her eyes before it was chased away by indifference. It had been years since the Latina mastered her façade of impassivity. "What are you doing with yourself? Who are you?"

After blinking at her reflection, she let out a light sigh and got ready for school. In moments she was all set, wearing an old pair of torn up jeans and a plain black V-neck shirt completed with worn-out black and white chucks. She trudged her way out of the apartment house, down the steps and across the street to two impatiently waiting brothers.

"About fucking time, Lopez," growled the tall, blonde-haired boy who stood next to his smaller mullet brained brother.

"It took me six minutes, Fred," was all she said in reply as she gathered her hair into a high ponytail. Sunlight gleamed off of the silver charm bracelet that dangled from her wrist, shining directly into a certain annoyed boy's eyes. The sunlight's victim, Fred, let out a soft grunt before demanding everyone to get into his car. The two younger kids clambered into the backseat of the rusted grey Toyota corolla.

"So, Rick, the game tonight, excited?" asked the driving teenaged boy.

"Yup, I've been practicing my J shot," his brother answered, cutting his glance to the Latina beside him. "You're going to be there cheering me on, right?"

Instead of snapping at him like she wanted to, she smoothly replied, "I can't, I'm going to the library. It's the second Wednesday of the month, you know I have to go and meet up with my social worker."

"You meet with that old hag at five, and my game is at seven, how long does it take to tell her how amazing we are to you?" The boy's voice was sharp, angry.

"We talk about a lot of things. We discuss my schoolwork, my health, things I've learned, and things I need to work on, how I feel about your family, how I feel about the school, upcoming afterschool stuff. It's a lot more than just you." She crossed her arms, a scowl pulling at her lips and eyes. Her gaze remained trained on the view out of her window, avoiding the glare Fred threw at her via the rearview mirror.

The car ride to school remained tense for the twenty minutes that remained. The moment they were parked, the girl shot out, sprinting to where she would find the only one who understood her well enough.

Moments later, she found herself leaning against the cold brick wall of the school on the far east wing. A lanky boy stood in front of her, a half smirk tugging at his lips. Running his fingers through his close-cut, somewhat curly black hair, his greenish-brown eyes lazily wandered up and down her body, lingering on her chest a little too long. Of course, his ogling didn't go unnoticed by the girl under scrutiny.

"Oye, eyes aquí," she snapped, pointing to her face and using Spanish to emphasize her point.

"You sound so hot when you speak Spanish, Lopez," he answered half-wittedly. She snorted, rolling her eyes and pushing off the wall with her shoulder. He just watched, silently appraising the fluidity of her movements.

"Puck, you're such an idiot." Her voice carried a sneering tone that would have caused any other person to cringe, yet all the boy did was smirk more. Noah Puckerman, who preferred Puck, was a bit of a puzzle for Santana Lopez.

"An idiot for you, baby!"

"You say that to all the girls," she scoffed. He shrugged then dug his hand in his pocket as if looking for something. "What are you doing?"

"Getting you…" he pulled his hand free, holding something small between his fingers, "this! It's a charm… for you." A sudden nervous edge stuck to his words as he held out the trinket in his sweaty palm.

"Oh," she squeaked. It was a rare thing to surprise the raven haired girl into speechlessness.

"Yeah, it's for your bracelet." They were both blushing as she took the silver charm from his palm and held it. "It's a bow and arrow because you have good aim and stuff..."

She nodded, eyeing the intricate designs that her gift consisted of. Something stirred in her stomach, a feeling of dread and excitement coalescing angrily.

"It's pretty," she muttered, stowing it away in her jeans pocket. For a fraction of a moment she held his gaze before she turned her attention to the students milling around further down the wall. In that fraction of a moment, she felt her heart tug painfully. He was the only real friend she ever had and it was in moments like that when he acted sincerely that she loved him… like a brother.

"You're prettier, Tana," he whispered. Her neck snapped as she whipped her head around and stared at him with incredulous eyes.

"Noah Puckerman, do not do that," she spat. Her dark eyes narrowed then she turned on her heel and stalked off through one of the many doors that led to main hall of the school. Her cheeks were flushed and she held her hands in tight fists. Anger bubbled near the surface as she made her way to her locker. Muttering to herself, she stewed, opening her locker forcibly after four failed attempts at her dial combination.

She always reacted that way when he did that. It just wasn't something she would tolerate for many reasons. Noah Puckerman was her best friend, her stable rock for nearly three years. She wouldn't chance that with some stupid date or whatever; she knew his tastes and likes were as fickle as fickle could be, especially for a 13 year old. And another thing, Santana Lopez did not do icky, feely-feely sappy, emotional garbage.

"Move it, jalapeño popper, you're in my way," a redheaded girl snarled, shoving the Latina roughly. It took everything the tan girl held in her will power to not take a swing at the girl. A triumphant smirk pulled at the ginger, her cold grey eyes alight with glee.

"You know what, Emma, why the hell don't you shove off?" the brunette growled. Her voice came out strange, gravelly and deeper than usual.

"Finally hitting puberty, bean burrito?"

"I am going to kick your ass." Her limit was reached, the girl couldn't hold on any longer.

She slammed her locker shut with a loud thud, silencing the once boisterous hallway. All eyes turned to the fiery Latina whose hands were trembling with rage. Blood roared in her ears, pounding with the quick beat of her enraged heart. Her vision narrowed and the edges tinted with red.

"Shit," grumbled a familiar voice. Arms wrapped themselves around the raging girl just as she was about to launch herself. "Calm down!"

"¡Te vas a arrepentir, estúpida! ¡Te lo juro!" she screamed, not putting up much of a fight against her friend, Puck. She recognized the way his arms fit around her, the small sense of calm that his familiar presence brought and the smell of his strong cologne. "¡Soy Santana López, y nunca me cruzas, porque tengo la fuerza de un demonio!"

The Emma girl swallowed thickly, her eyes shining with fear and face white with terror. She attempted to pull back her cool and casual demeanor but the obviously threatening Spanish that was slung from the Latina's mouth startled her.

"What's going on here?" boomed a voice full of annoyance and authority. An old man with thinning grey hair walked up to the scene, glancing at the half circle formed around the boy who held a screaming girl and the redhead who looked as spooked as a deer in headlights.

"Nothing really," replied the boy holding the quieting girl. "Just a mix up, right, Santana?" He moved his arms so that his hands rested on the brunette's hips.

She grunted, shoving her friend's hands away before stepping towards the man.

"I should have known you were behind this, Lopez, in my office, now."

Muttering Spanish obscenities, she stormed down the hall to the principal's office. The crowd of students that surrounded her parted like the Red Sea, fearful of her vicious and intense wrath.

"Ms. Frost, I suggest you and the rest of this crowd scurry to your classes before the late bell rings for homeroom, you too, Mr. Puckerman."

Everyone scattered, quickly making their way towards their respective classes, everyone except Puck. He stood tall with his chin raised and arms crossed defiantly.

"Emma was the one that started it, like always," he said. Rage darkened his irises as he watched his principal shrug.

"Ms. Frost is an exemplary student. She's the student body president, captain of the cheerleaders, captain of the volleyball squad, founder of the book club and on the honor roll. She's never been in trouble for yelling, threatening or attempting to physically inflict damage to another person. Ms. Lopez, on the other hand, has been in trouble for each of those reasons on multiple occasions. Do you see what I'm trying to say, young man?"

The boy didn't say a word, just clenched his jaw and nodded before turning to go to his class.

With that taken care of, the aged principal took slow strides toward his office, taking many deep breaths in order to ready himself for the awaiting student. He knew she had potential to do great things, something in his gut rebelled against punishing her, yet he couldn't overlook her on going dismissal of the rules. He set his face against the sadness in his heart and entered the room.

"She started it; you know that, don't you?" Her voice sliced the air in the room, filling the four walls with accusation and frustration. Her posture, as she sat on the overstuffed chair in front of his desk, showed just how on the offensive she was.

"Regardless, you have to learn to control your temper, Ms. Lopez," the principal stated. He eased his matured body into his worn in chair. "This is the second time this week and the school day hasn't even started. Why are you doing this to yourself?" The principal was shocked at himself; the question was supposed to be thought, not spoken aloud and especially not spoken with such… emotion.

"Why do you care?" she shot back. Her dark eyes danced with fury as she stared at the old man.

'To hell with it,' the principal thought. "I care because you have such potential and you're ruining it like every other rebellious teenager I have seen walk these halls for years."

The raven haired girl blinked at her principal, at a loss for any words to say. She wasn't expecting any sort of reply like that.

"Santana, we're all given gifts, abilities that help us survive in this world. You're young, but I've seen what you're capable of. Apply yourself, pay attention to the rules and I can't imagine anything other than a bright future ahead of you. If you didn't put so much energy in rebelling and instead maybe joined a club or two, your shot at higher education would be all the more probable. Who knows, after that you might even have a shot at a Nobel Peace Prize."

"Am I on Punk'd or something?" she finally said. The seriousness in her voice caused the man to smile.

"No, Miss Lopez, you are not." He placed his elbows on his desk, threading his fingers and resting his chin on the interlocked digits. "This time, I'll let you off with a stern warning. Do not expect this any other time. I have spoken my brief piece and hope that you heed my words. Off to class now, Santana."

Rising out of her chair, she eyed the old man skeptically. She never would have expected that from him in all of ever; he was a well- known, unfair hard-ass. As she walked out of the room, she couldn't shake away the principal's words from her mind. We're all given gifts, abilities.

Something in the way he said that felt ominous, as if he knew something she didn't. But that was silly, the Latina did not believe in anything she couldn't see.

'Then explain why you invest so much thought into superstitious nonsense,' a voice whispered sarcastically in her mind.

Rolling her eyes at what she believed to be the worst part of her subconscious, she made her way slowly down a few halls to her first class of the day. She was sure that time with Ms. Cartwright would numb her mind so badly that she'd forget any of the morning's weirdness.

She was right. After a class full of Ms. Cartwright's agitating voice, algebraic calculations and stupid Emma always raising her hand like the brownnose she was, the raven haired wonder felt dead inside. It only got worse as the day progressed, full of monotony, over-dramatization, almost fights and offensive slurs.

She let out a long sigh as she walked through the building's doors at the end of the school day.

"Free at last, free at last," she murmured as she pulled her hair free from the high ponytail she wore. The sudden feeling of her hair falling unfastened sent a pleasing tingle down her spine. "Time for the library."

Her strides were purposeful and strong; she was finally back in control. She knew where she was going and how to get there. She kept the bus schedule of the week at the forefront of her mind as she maneuvered her way on the busy sidewalks of her neighborhood.

"Afternoon, Miss Lopez," an elderly woman called out from behind a vibrant bouquet of roses. The woman's face was lit up with a cheery smile as she put down the watering can she held.

"Hi there, Mrs. Jane," the brunette replied. The girl's voice was light, the lightest it had been all day. The wind picked up as she walked around the various flower arrangements, lifting the beautiful scents to her nose. A loose rose petal landed in her dark hair.

"The flowers love you," Mrs. Jane smiled. The girl's response was a soft chuckle and gentle hug. Of course, the florist wrapped her own frail arms around the sweet girl. "Which flower today, rose or lily?"

"Lily," the Latina replied. Her eyes, which earlier resembled orbs of hard obsidian, appeared like warm, melted chocolate, swimming with content.

"Here you go." A wrinkled hand carefully held a beautiful white and pink Asiatic lily, extending it towards the tan skinned girl.

The Latina took it, holding it gingerly as if it were the most delicate of things. She drank in the beauty, taking in the soft feel of the petals, the bright contrast of the colors and the majesty of the entire flower as a single being.

"You always have the most beautiful flowers, Mrs. Jane," she murmured softly. She continued to gaze at the flower, as if hypnotized.

"Does she speak to you?" the grey haired woman asked. Brown eyes tore themselves from the flower to meet lovely grey ones.

"If only, if only," the raven haired girl replied with a small smile. "It'd be amazing if they could talk. Can you imagine how beautiful they would speak? Imagine the stories they'd have to tell, the wonders of the beauty out there I haven't even had a chance to see yet." For a brief moment she lost herself in her deepest childhood dream, of a never ending garden filled with tinkling laughter and a bright blue sky.

"They do dear, don't you go and forget what I've been telling you," the woman chastised teasingly, pulling the girl from her inner sanctum.

"I remember. 'Flowers have a language all their own and we can learn it if we let our hearts listen.'" Oh how she prayed that were true so that she may be surrounded by the splendor of flower instead of the ugliness people so constantly portrayed.

"Atta girl!" The two smiled at each other, the younger not as enthusiastically as her elder, before the latter turned to enter her shop. The petite brunette stood, waiting for the other to return. "Here they are." The aged florist returned with three thick text books, which were placed in slim yet strong, tan arms.

"I'll renew the others you still have so there's no late fee. I'll be back in three days, Mrs. Jane, see ya then." With her brief farewell, the smiling Latina went to her bus stop and sat patiently. In only a few moments, her ride appeared and she clambered aboard. Most of the seats were taken and the only free one was next to Brett, who tended to breathe heavily in her ear, so she decided to remain standing.

After riding for a few blocks, the girl left the bus, walking to her destination for her small amount of exercise. She ran into a few familiar faces, waving to Jim the Butcher, Brad the Street Pianist, Jeremiah the Resident Gap Obsessed Closeted Gay Boy. A small sliver of pity nestled in the pit of the girl's stomach as she took in the look of longing that crossed Jeremiah's face as he gazed at couples that walked along. She was tempted to stop and chat with him, but she couldn't. If she did, she wouldn't have time to wander the library and read before her meeting. Instead, she sent him an extra warm smile and continued on.

"Santana!" a frantic voice screamed. She turned around, startled as she watched Puck barrel towards her. "Run, run!" When he reached her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and tugged her forward. "Get a move on, Lopez!"

"What the fuck got into you, Puckerman?" she roared. Her eyes were narrowed into angry slits as she squirmed in his hold. "Let me go, I'm not in the mood for stupid games." She continued to squirm while trying not to drop the books Mrs. Jane entrusted in her care.

"Santana, they're after me! We need to go, now," he insisted, lugging her as best he could. He kept glancing around; his eyes jumping from person to person that walked passed them. It struck an odd nerve in the girl when she noticed that no one seemed to pay them any mind, even though Puck shrieked her name and was obviously holding her against her will.

"What do you mean 'after you'?" she finally asked, ceasing her protesting movements. He released her which gave the girl an opportunity to shift the books to use only one arm to carry them.

"I don't know who they are," he began, taking her free hand in his. His palms were slick with sweat. "After school, I was with… a girl in the back parking lot." Even with his strange behavior, the Latina couldn't help but roll her eyes and shake her head at her friend. "That's not the point. Santana, they came up to me, lifted and tossed her then grabbed for me. I managed to kick the guy in the nuts to get away and hid under a car. Tana, they don't only want me, they want you too." At that, the girl's skepticism returned.

"Puck, fuck off. I'm losing valuable reading t-"

"Santana Marisol Lopez," he interrupted. She gaped at him, her jaw slack and lips forming a nearly perfect "O" shape.

"How the… how do you know that?" she asked sharply once she regained a hold of herself. She never told anyone her middle name.

"That's what one of the guys said, I figured that you'd really believe me if you knew that. Now come on, let's go!" Puck went back to tugging her roughly, holding her hand in a vice grip as he walked briskly down the sidewalk.

"Let go," she barked. The tone in her voice left no room for hesitation and Puck understood that, for once. He released his grasp on her hand and glared at her. "Noah, shut the fuck up, take my hand again and start walking normally. If you fucking draw attention from whoever those people are, we could be done for. Haven't you noticed everyone is acting as if you weren't some delusional and violent teen? They have to be near. We need to blend in as much as possible."

The hazel eyed boy nodded, taking her hand once more and threading his fingers with hers. Clenching her jaw and fighting the desire to unthread their fingers, the Latina opened up her senses to her surroundings.

"We should go to the library, no matter how good these people are, I can almost swear the assistant librarian is better and wouldn't tolerate any sort of scene. Whatever they managed to do to these people, I bet it couldn't do a thing to her."

Puck remained quiet, walking along with her, his palm still very sweaty and his clutch on her hand still too tight.

"One more block, we can make it." Her voice was gentle as she spoke to him and she could feel the pulse in his wrist slow. "We're almost there, Puck."

"Thanks, Tana, I'm glad you're good at this." He smiled at her, it was strained and didn't get close to reaching his eyes but it was something.

"It comes from years of experience from running from people; at six years old I learned how to pick locks. Hell, at three I broke out of my playpen," she chuckled softly. A small chuckle of his own bubbled from the boy, surprising himself.

"You're a dork," he grinned, regaining his usual cool demeanor more and more with each step they took.

The Latina was about to mention that she was serious and her story was 100 percent legitimate but the normalcy of his behavior was way better than the freaked out version of her friend.

"That's it, right there," she announced, pointing to the small building ahead of them. "Don't go too quickly, there's someone that's been following us. Don't turn around, dumbass," she ordered in a fierce whisper.

The pair made their way as casually as they could into the double doors of the library. Once the smell of print, coffee and leather hit the petite's nose, she visibly relaxed. Apparently that's all Puck needed to be reassured because he dropped her hand and wiped his palms on his pants.

"Sorry if that was gross," he apologized sheepishly. The girl shrugged off his apology, making her way to the center of the study area once she placed the books she had in the drop-off box. He followed her the entire way and plopped down on the couch next to her. "How do you know we were being followed?" he whispered.

Her reply was to simply pull out her phone from her back pocket and give him a pointed glare. She flipped open the device and punched at the keys, typing out a message with a huff; sometimes not having money sucked more than ever, especially when you have a really shitty phone.

Seconds after she hit the send button, a stupid message tone rang out from the back of Puck's pocket. A blush crept along his cheek as Ms. Virginia, the assistant librarian, shot daggers at them. He immediately shut the phone down to vibrate mode and ran his finger along the screen to open the text he received.

'He followed us in! Don't say things like that out loud! Thank God for texting.'

Puck glanced at her from the corner of his eye before tapping out his reply. After hitting send, he waited for the sound of the familiar buzzing. It sounded almost instantly yet she settled further into the couch and fiddled with the phone as if she were still waiting for a reply.

So Puck sat there, wondering what exactly was going on in his friend's mind and not quite sure about how he should behave. He decided to play it cool and open up an app to keep him occupied. Maybe he would beat Angry Birds Star Wars edition in between texting her and nonchalantly keeping safe from a freak.

While Puck busied himself with his game, Santana rolled her eyes, finally checking the message he sent in reply.

'U dnt evn txt rite! U dnt spell stuff out bcuz its nerdy& I dnt c him'

She mentally face palmed, giving another but more exaggerated eye roll. 'That phone has auto correct and shit like that, fucking use it, dip tard,' she ranted inwardly while tapping again.

'It makes me look smart, Puckerman. He's hiding now behind some shelves, DON'T LOOK. Try to not make it obvious we're texting each other.'

The message sent and again, Puck immediately answered. The boy's cheeks turned a rosy pink as he read, nodding subtly. Back and forth they went, sending messages.

'Wat do u think they want'

'No clue, did they look professional?'

'Wat do u mean'

'Did they look like badasses from spy movies or thugs from a gang?'

'Spy movies.'

The girl sighed when she read the last message he sent. 'They're probably dirty cops, considering the fact that they were willing to toss an innocent girl while trying to get to Puck,' she thought.

Before she began to tap at the keypad again, her hand froze without her consent. 'What the fuck?' Her mind raced. Her heart started to speed up as she felt her limbs move on their own accord, not so gracefully lifting her from her seat. Puck shot her a curious glance and her hand made a movement for him to follow. They clambered their way out of the building, the entire time her heart in her throat.

She tried to scream, to tell Puck to run and never look back. Guilt and fear caused sweat to trickle down her back the further they got from the library.

Meanwhile three men followed them discreetly. Two of the three men tailed the young teenagers as an unusual pair. One was tall and slender, his skin smooth and sun kissed, a beautiful specimen of the male species while the other was shorter with a round belly, balding head and strange facial structure. The last followed alone; he was burly, filling his flannel shirt with his thick muscled torso and arms while his jeans fit snuggly on his equally impressive legs. All three were on edge, watching every move the boy and girl made.

The lone man ducked into a random store as the teens rounded a corner leading into an alley way. He swallowed the nerves that began to make breathing difficult.

Wandering the store, he kept an eye out the window, waiting until the other men passed and made their own way into the alley. He quickly exited, standing at the corner, listening intently to the four people in the alleyway.

"Tana?" the boy asked slowly, staring ahead at a dead end. He turned his hazel eyes towards her and gulped when he saw just how wide hers were. "Tana?" Fear slowly crept into his voice as he took a step towards her. She didn't move a muscle and her mouth remained close.

"She won't move," a voice laughed. Puck whirled around, his eyes landing on the strange men that blocked their only escape. "She won't move unless I want her too, isn't that right, Ms. Lopez?" the shorter of the two grinned. "Nod."

Against her will, her head jerked before tilting up and down in an awkward nod. Puck growled in frustration, the fists at his side trembling with rage.

Unease snaked its way into the men's hearts as they eyed the boy wearily. Noah Puckerman's abilities were still under debate.

"Leave her alone," he snarled. He took a shaky step forward which caused the two men to take their own steps back. 'What the…?'

"Ryerson, Saunders, I suggest you let the kids go and give up before you get hurt. I'll give you three seconds to release the girl from your hold before I slit your throat," growled a stern voice. It was then that Puck saw two metal blades glinting in the small amount of sunlight that reached the alley, one per man's throat. He also noticed the very built man that apparently held the blades. Of all the recognizable features the man had, Puck zeroed in on his Mohawk with the most interest.

"I told you I caught Karofsky's scent earlier! You never listen to me!" the slender man screeched. His voice was like nails on a chalkboard.

"Are you kidding me? Ugh, that's the last fucking time I let Azimio talk me into trying any of Matt's stupid experiments," grunted the man who held the men captive. "Sandy, let the girl go, now."

Puck watched in horror as the Latina's body lurched violently before she fell to the floor in an unmoving heap. He rushed forward with unnatural speed, taking her in his arms in one smooth motion.

"What did you do to her?" he screamed.

"They're always so dramatic, aren't they, Hank?" the Sandy man said, boredom lacing his voice. "Then again, you were over dramatic once upon a time as well."

The taller man, Hank, blushed as he bit his lip, nodding slowly.

"Enough," Karofsky announced, successfully knocking both Hank and Sandy out by slamming their heads together. It made a sickening noise, something Puck knew he would never forget.

"Who… who are you?" the boy asked cautiously, holding the awakening girl.

"My name is David, David Karofsky, but most people call me Karofsky or just Dave. How's Santana doing?" Karofsky asked lightly.

"I'm okay," the girl in question answered weakly. She gazed up at Puck who was still holding her close to his body. "You can let go now."

"Oh… yeah," he said lamely, releasing her slowly.

"I have a few questions for you, Karofsky." The Latina stood on wobbly feet, brushing herself off while glaring at the burly man.

"Okay, shoot."

"How do you know our names? Who are you? I'm not asking for your name, I'm asking about who you are. And who are they?" she questioned, jutting her chin towards the unconscious men.

"You're pretty good at asking questions, Lopez. I'm Agent David Karofsky of sector Omega 8 of the American Alliance of Abnormal Affairs. The two men, Hank Saunders and Sandy Ryerson, are criminal rouges that were sent to abduct you. I know your name, Santana Lopez and Noah Puckerman, because I was assigned to recruit you before those knuckleheads got to you. You see, you both are special." He paused a moment, a small grin curling his thin lips. "Both of you are the same age I was when they found me."

"Wait, what the hell is American Allegiance of whatever? And what the fuck do you mean by 'special'?"

"The American Alliance of Abnormal Affairs is the American branch of an international organization put in place in order to maintain harmony in the world. There are… people like us, special. We're different from normal people, gifted with abilities given to us through our parents. Some have extraordinary abilities, even among the rest of us. My friend, Azimio, can create sonic booms strong enough to cause small earthquakes. I hear this one girl from the Theta 16 sector has the ability of mind control if she lays her lips on you; she calls herself The Mack. My own dad can create fissures in the ground and find anything precious below the ground."

"So what you're saying is that the X-Men shit is legit?" Puck piped up. Mischief lit his eyes.

"Don't be so gullible, Noah," the raven haired girl snapped.

"You want proof, and I can give that." Karofsky rolled up his sleeves, shaking his hands out and taking deep breaths. His brows pinched together and his mouth settled into a thin line.

"He looks constipated," she quipped, causing her friend to snort.

"I heard that," Karofsky mumbled. He closed his eyes as sweat began to collect on his forehead.

"What are you…" Puck's question trailed off as he watched in amazement as the man that stood before him began to shine. Both he and his companion gasped as they continued to watch him.

Where David Karofsky once stood stood a man with hair of gold, skin of silver and eyes of emerald gems. His movements were smooth, like any other ordinary person. He smiled and the teens gazed in wonderment at his teeth, which were bright white pearls.

"Is this proof enough?" he smirked. The tan skinned girl to a tentative step forward, her hand outstretched.

"This isn't… it's not…" She was at a loss for words.

"I can teach you about yourself, help you figure out why you always felt like an outsider."

Both teenagers winced, casting their eyes to the floor.

"That's the problem with us; we have to learn more about who we are before we can really fit in. For some it's easier, especially the half-bloods. For others it's incredibly difficult. I can help you; give you a place to belong with kids your age, going through the same things you are. Trust me," he said gently. The change that took him over disappeared instantaneously as he took the girl's outstretched hand in his own pale one. "Santana, you've always been different but never truly knew why; now is your time to discover yourself and live in a world where you know yourself. With us, the American AAA, we can guide you as your powers begin to develop."

"What makes you think I'm special?" she whispered. She was afraid to hope for anything that meant possibly leaving her rat hole of a life sooner than graduation. She was especially afraid of being mistaken for someone amazing, special.

"There's no doubt about it, Madam Sylvester herself said to recruit you and your friend. She's never wrong, ever." He let go of her then reached into his pocket and pulled out a state of the art cell phone thing. "You see." He tapped in a few commands before a 3D hologram of both the young teens popped up.

"Hey, I'm buffer than that, see," Puck stated, flexing as he did so. His dark haired companion on the other hand simply nodded.

"When do we leave?" The eagerness that laced her voice didn't get past Karofsky as a grin spread across his scruffy face.

"Now if you'd like. We can also stop by your places to pick up anything you might want. If you're worried about clothes, no need, we have all that stuff taken care of. And before you ask, anything to do with school or family and friends is dealt with easily enough, after all, the government is pretty closely allied with us."

Again, another nod before a question lit her dark irises. "How old are you?"

A bellowing laugh resonated through the alley as he slapped his knee and clutched his sides.

"What's so funny?"

"I just won an hour on the PS3 is what's funny. I bet my friend Matt that you'd ask how old I was before we actually got into the car. Oh and to answer you, I turned eighteen a month ago."

"Cool, there're video games!" the younger boy cheered, pumping his fist into the air.

The Latina cracked a smile, wordlessly following the two boys chatting about various video games that the AAA headquarters held.

Her mind wandered as she moved her feet at a steady pace. She was exposed to something that should probably concern her more or maybe even make her question her sanity, yet she accepted it easily enough. What powers could she possibly possess? Could she shoot beams from her hands? Better yet, could she move objects with her mind? Or could she spread her arms and embrace the sky, taking flight? If she could have any of those powers, she knew she would choose flight. Flight meant freedom and that was something she dreamt of since her first foster parents were murdered.

She shuddered at the thought, the heart wrenching memory of watching the first people that seemed to truly care for her killed before her very eyes.

She glanced at the other two, a sense of envy temporarily taking hold of her heart, causing it to squeeze painfully. They had a sense of who they were, she could sense it. Karofsky didn't much, but he did mention something about his dad, which meant he knew him. Puck had his mother who, without a doubt, was the woman who carried him for nine grueling months. They had a biological connection to a person that had a presence in their life.

Who did she have? What did she have?

She shook her head, straightening her spine and lifting her chin. Defiance sparkled in her eyes as she increased her gait enough to be half a step in front of the others.

She knew who she was.

She was a girl who would change the world; a girl who discovered her gifted voice; a girl that forced herself to learn how to kick box because of one abusive foster father; a girl who would fight until the bitter end in order to uphold what she felt was right. And above all, she was Santana Marisol Lopez, the girl who would do whatever it took to do what was right and what was necessary to serve and protect the beauty of the world.

Santana Marisol Lopez would take on whatever forces stood in her way. She was a born fighter; she didn't need to be special to do that. But if she did have some power that could help her with her dream, she'd use it.

Santana smiled again, this time more broadly.

Maybe she had the power to talk to flowers.


"¡Te vas a arrepentir, estúpida! ¡Te lo juro!" You'll be sorry, stupid girl! I swear it!
"¡Soy Santana López, y nunca me cruzas, porque tengo la fuerza de un demonio!" I am Santana Lopez and you never cross me because i have the strength/force of a demon!

So, any comments? Curious about Santana's and Puck's powers? Missing a certain beautiful blue eyed blonde?
If so, I'm happy to say that, with enough request, I'll continue this story with more of my brotp Pucktana and buildup my otp Brittana because Brittana is fucking endgame! Pucktana will remain strictly platonic, after all, San likes tacos, not hotdogs. Furthermore, if you're missing the other gleeks, they'll be present in the multichap of this. Oh! And I might change the title, still unsure.
Did anyone pick out some of the random guest stars I included? I think there were three main ones that not many would pay much mind to.

Any questions, concerns or if you're just bored, send me a message, comment or check out my tumblr. I love hearing from you guys, it makes my day! Especially since my life right now revolves around school, fanfics and soccer. I have no phone and no friends so I need you guys... yes, I'm a little awkward but pity me lol

TUMBLR: crazy-lady-wolf at tumblr dot com

Hope you enjoyed and hope to hear from you soon!