New York City used to be slightly intimidating to her, especially when it was dark out, though she would never admit it to anybody. Santana Lopez was a tough bitch, and showing any sign of weakness would be very unlike her. So she walked through the streets, her head high and her eyes blazing with her sarcastic, witty attitude, ignoring those around her and glaring at anyone who bumped into her. She hated to admit it, but she really did like living with Rachel and Kurt, even though the two of them were too much sometimes. They had known each other for what seemed like forever, and the two of them were probably the only people from McKinley that she could actually put up with.
She slid open the door to their apartment and yelled a quick "I'm back!" before setting her purse down and taking off her jacket. It was late October and New York was starting to cool down, a concept Santana had never really grasped. She plopped down onto the couch and turned on the TV but instantly muted it, preferring just to have the dim light rather than the sound. She frowned and looked around, listening for a minute to see if she could hear anyone, but she decided that Kurt and Rachel were put somewhere so she grabbed a magazine from the table in front of her and started to read it.
She had spent a lot of evenings like this; alone, reading, and singing to herself. It was Saturday so she didn't have to worry about work in the morning, but what was the point of staying up late if she didn't have anything to do? She sighed and closed the magazine, which was one she had read multiple times before. She closed her eyes and massaged her temples, trying to release some stress and relax, but she heard a noise from the kitchen. Her eyes popped open and her hands flew to her sides as her head snapped in the direction of the kitchen. She slowly stood up, squinting slightly in the dim light to see if she could make anything out. Maybe it was just her imagination...
No, there it was again, a distinct sound of metal on metal. She slowly started toward the kitchen, grabbing a knife from the counter as she entered. She looked around, confused because there was nothing there, until she heard a faint rustling behind her. She whipped around and screamed, as there was a man standing there. He was tall, huge almost, with long hair (gross, get a haircut), a flannel shirt (the dude really needed a makeover), and in his hands... A gun, pointing directly at her head. She took a deep breath and tried to remain calm.
"Ok, first of all, who the hell are you and how the hell did you get into my apartment?!"
He frowned, lowering the gun. "You're... a person?"
She scoffed, glaring at him. "Yeah, what were you expecting a frickin' pony? Now answer my question before I stick this knife in your neck!"
He placed the gun on the counter and raised his hands, looking almost... amused? "My name's Sam, and you have a sliding door with one lock. It wasn't that hard to get in."
"Ok well that's not the point, WHY are you here?"
"Well, I was... tracking a ghost... But I lost it here."
She blinked and stood gaping for a second. "Are you out of your god damn mind? A ghost?! Wait a minute, this is some kind of prank isn't it, Rachel and Kurt put you up to this? I bet there are cameras set up and shit, ALRIGHT THAT'S IT, YOU TWO LOSERS CAN COME OUT NOW, JOKE'S OVER!"
Someone else burst through the door, also carrying a gun.
"Sammy 'dya get it?" He stopped next to Sam and raised an eyebrow, noticing the gun on the counter. "What the hell-"
"Dean, I... I'm not quite sure either, apparently she lives here.."
She snapped her fingers in their direction, getting impatient. "Hello, yes, still in the room! Whoever the hell you two clowns are, you need to get your asses out of my apartment!"
Dean looked at Sam, who just shrugged. Santana raised the knife slightly and Dean dropped his weapon on the table, sighing.
Santana glared incredulously. "Listen, you can either tell me what the hell is going on, or Goldilocks and Gayface can march their asses right out of here!"
"Goldilocks?..."
"Gayface?!"
"So this is what I'm getting from this, ghosts, vampires, werewolves, all of that shit. It's real?"
Dean and Sam both nodded as Santana loosened the grip on her knife. "This is bullshit and I know it, you two are just insane gay hobos who grew up watching too much Sy-Fy!"
Sam raised his eyebrows. "Um, actually we're brothers, and we're definitely not hobos. Did you really think we were-"
"The point is, there's been some serious haunting going on in this building and we're trying to get to the bottom of it. Haven't you been paying attention to the news? 3 people have gone missing from this building just this week!"
"Like I give a hog's ass about other people's lives! Now that we've had our little story time, I'd like for both of you to leave so I can watch my Spanish soap opera in peace!"
"Alright bitch, we don't have time for your shit, this is such a simple haunting and we shouldn't have to deal with-"
"Dean please, just give her a minute to process."
Santana groaned and sat back down. "So... Say, hypothetically of course, there really was some kind of spirit hanging around here. What would we have to do to get rid of it?"
"Well for starters..." Sam handed her the gun that was lying on the counter in front of him.
She shook her head. "Um, uh uh, no me gusta! There's no way this can be legal!"
"Trust me, don't worry about what's legal and not right now, it's not important. We just need to make sure these people are safe, and we want you to help us."
"Why though? If what you told me really was true then you should have no trouble at all with this, unless of course you already screwed something up, which, by my first impressions of you two, seems HIGHLY possible!"
Dean huffed and opened his mouth but before he could say anything Sam stopped him and interjected with, "We think the spirit may have latched itself onto this apartment, so right now you're in the most danger. It could be listening to us as we speak for all we know."
Santana rolled her eyes. "Cut the dramatic crap, just tell me the plan."
"So, we think the reason the spirit is stuck in the building is because some of its remains are somewhere here still. If we've learned anything, it's that people usually hide this kind of stuff as far down as they can."
"So, the basement?"
Sam nodded. "Exactly, the basement!"
Santana frowned. "That still doesn't explain why it chose this apartment."
"Did anything new come in here in the last few days? Any... furniture, clothes, anything?"
Santana shrugged. "I think there's a bunch of junk in the basement, maybe Kurt or Rachel brought something up?"
She felt a sudden chill, and the lights started to flicker. The windows flew open and shut, and Dean grabbed his gun from the counter. Sam reached for his, then realized that Santana had it. She was on her feet too, looking around, more thrilled than scared. There was a wind blowing through the apartment and the three whirled around on the spot, trying to keep their guards up.
Agains the wind, Santana had to yell. "I forgot to ask, how the hell is a gun supposed to stop a ghost in the first place?!"
"The rounds are filled with salt, stops the sons of bitches right in their tracks!"
As he finished the sentence, the wind suddenly died and the power cut completely, and there was a loud, bloodcurdling shriek. Santana turned quickly and saw what appeared to be a woman, except for the fact that she was floating, white, translucent, and missing an arm. She started screaming, "WHERE IS IT, WHERE IS IT?!", but Santana pulled the trigger and she dissipated.
She took a deep breath. "Well, that was... Utterly terrifying."
"Christ woman, that was awesome! Where'd you learn to shoot?"
"I grew up in Lima Heights, you pick things up."
Sam sat back down and put his head in his hands. "But what was she screaming about?"
"Well, the poor bitch only had one arm, maybe the psychotic dead girl was just looking for the other one?"
Sam stood up and turned to Santana. "That's... That's genius! I mean, I woulda figured it out eventually but-"
"Whatever Goldy, let's just find this arm and get rid of it before she comes back."
He frowned at the nickname, but Dean was stuck with 'Gayface' so he wasn't going to complain. Santana pulled out her phone and dialed Rachel's number as the power flickered back on. "Hey Rachel, are you with Kurt?"
"Yeah, sorry we should have left a note! Is everything ok?"
"Yeah, um, fine, I was just wondering if either of you brought anything up here from the basement?"
She heard Kurt's voice saying, "Oh yeah, that jewelry box!"
Rachel continued, "I found the cutest jewelry box down there when I was throwing out that old cushion, but we never found a way to get it open. Is there a reason why you're asking about this?"
"Nope, no reason at all, gotta go bye!"
She quickly hung up the phone and ran into Rachel's room, emerging with the box. She tried opening it but it was definitely stuck, so she took the knife that was still on the counter and plunged it into the box, which was made of old wood. It broke apart and something fell out, and as the dust cleared Santana could see that it was a shriveled up arm.
"Ok see, that is nasty! But I guess it's what we were looking for..."
Dean grabbed the arm and a bottle from his pocket. He doused the arm in fluid from the bottle and took out a lighter.
"You are DEFINITELY not burning a dead bitch's arm in my kitchen!"
Dean rolled his eyes and held the arm out the window, lighting it and letting it burn for a few seconds before dropping it. Santana gave him a disapproving look but he waved her off.
"So... Is that it? One-Arm Annie's gone for good?"
"Yeah, that's it! Thanks for all of your help Santana, most people need some time to get their minds wrapped around this, but... You kinda just jumped right in!"
"What can I say, I like living fast."
"Then I guess we'll be going. Pleasure meeting you!" Sam shook her hand and she stood on her tiptoes to give him a hug, and she did the same with Dean, but this time whispered in his ear, "Just in case you were wondering, and I know you were, I play for the other team."
She winked at him as the separated and sighed as Sam and Dean walked out the door, sliding it shut behind them. She sighed and sat back down on the sofa, suddenly exhausted. The door slid open and she heard a scream as Rachel saw the remains of the jewelry box. Santana groaned and started thinking of a story to tell Rachel, fully intending to keep what she had learned that night to herself.