Thou dost not ask What spirits these, which thou beholdest, are? Now will I have thee know, ere thou go farther, That they sinned not; and if they merit had, 'Tis not enough, because they had not baptism – Inferno, Canto IV, Limbo

"Charon?"

He rolled his eyes (or lack of) at her and gestured to the boat, his beautiful features replaced with a skeleton, his clothes be a flowing black gown. "I am the ferryman, kid. I have to take you across. Now get in," he tapped the boat with his oar, and she jumped down the last two steps, staring into the black river.

"Is this…?"

"The Styx. Don't touch the water. You know the legends, I presume."

She gulped. "Of course…"

Stepping into the boat, she sat down on the little seat, and stared at him. The skeletal face was hard to look at, she found it unnerving, this lack of features…

"Do we go or what?"

The skull nodded and pushed off the ground, steadily rowing down the river.

"No Virgil, kid?" the voice whispered as the stairs behind her started to steadily disappear into darkness. She shook her head.

"No. I came alone."

"You're brave, coming without a guide."

"Who needs a guide?"

"Dante did."

"I'm not Dante."

She heard what sounded unmistakably like a laugh and turned to look at his back as the oar rowed on. Backward, out, forward, dip, backward, out, forward, dip…

It felt like an eternity later that she heard the first soul-crushing sound of her journey.

Wailing and moaning came with non-existent wind as white orbs started to drift towards her. Curiously, she held her hand out to one as it came dangerously close to her face, and caught it in the palm of her left hand. It started to twist and turn in her hand, like a live crystal ball, and Charon swept at it with his hand.

"The Uncommitted. They like people like you, living souls. They try to latch on to them so they can return to the surface."

"They're…" she whispered breathlessly, catching the orb in her hands again and staring into it, seeing what looked like two large red eyes staring back. "They're so pretty…"

'Don't be fooled," he barked at her, swiping at the orb again, sending it flying into the water. "The Uncommitted are dangerous things. Everything down here is. They're souls who never had an alliance with anyone, not God, not Lucifer, nothing."

"Atheists?"

"You could say that…" he shrugged, and turned to look at her through his sockets. "It's a long ride, kid. Get some sleep. That's what Dante did."

She laughed and crossed her legs. "Dante fainted 'coz he was scared."

Silence fell between the two, the only sound the lapping of the black waters against the boat as it went forward. Charon suddenly stepped off his post and came towards her, his face coming level with hers. She leaned backwards, trying to avoid any contact.

"Aren't you?"


"There's no reason to be afraid. I'll always be with you. always."


"She left me! She left me here alone! Why did she leave me? She promised she'd always be around!"


"Be strong, Santana. Be brave. I'm behind you one hundred percent of the way…"


When she awoke, she was lying on the ground of some sort of dusty realm. Charon was gone, and so was the boat. The river lapped gently against the ground at her feet, licking at the dirt as it strived to come closer to her. She quickly grabbed her bag and shuffled backwards on her rump, hitting what felt like a rock a few meters back. Satisfied that she was far enough from the water, she sighed and curled her knees up to her chin.

"Hello?"

She looked behind the rock, standing up and putting her bag on her back. There, chained to the ground, where a group of wispy white human figures. They all started at her, confused and wide eyed.

They didn't look dangerous.

"Hi."

"You're…alive."

She smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I am."

"Oh! We've got another Dante here, everyone!" one of them called out, and the whole group broke into wailing laughter. Santana stopped walking towards them and furrowed her brow.

"What?"

"Nothing!" one of them floated towards her, suspended right above her head as he twisted in the air, grinning manically at her. "So, you're here looking for your Beatrice, right?"

"Yeah…"

"How very brave of you. Who is he? Maybe we've met him!" A girl spirit grinned mockingly, floating forward too. Santana reached a hand out and swiped at the air, weaving it through them. Her fingers went numb as they passed through their icy forms, and she winced, deciding to circle around them instead.

"It's a girl."

The ghosts fell quiet, except for one, who gave a very loud cackle and floated towards her too, trapping her, stopping her.

"So you're gay?"

"Yes. I am."

"Back off!" she heard, and she craned her head around the first ghost, surprised.

There, walking towards her, was what looked like an elderly ghost. He was definitely older than the others, with a large black beard covering most of his chest, and a wizened old face. All the other spirits parted before him, moving away to his sides, behind him, and behind Santana, forming a circle around the two.

"So, young one, you are homosexual?"

"Uh…yeah…"

"Are you sure?"

"No guy makes me feel this way, Britt…I love you…"

"Very sure."

"And this girl you…love…" she sneered at him, she could practically here the quotation marks he put on the word, "she is dead?"

"For eight years now."

"And you…you are…?"

She inclined her head forward, waiting for more. "Am what?"

"Your religion, child!" it snapped at her, sending the other ghosts into a collective chuckle. "Do you know where you are? Or did you not bother to read the book you are so devotionally following?" He waved his arms around, gesturing at the rocks, the river, the ghosts. "This is Limbo, the place where people who were never baptized go. Good or Evil, no matter what you did in your life, if you were never baptized by the Church, you are stuck here for eternity."

"Which is, as you know," the first ghost she had spoken to piped up, "a very long time!"

He was shushed, and the elderly ghost continued.

"So child, your faith, your religion, your Christian denomination?"

"I'm…uh…"

"En el nombre del Padre, y del Hijo, y del Espíritu Santo. Amén."

Brittany raises her eyebrow at her as she crawls into bed next to her, but she doesn't question her, merely hugs her.

"God hates me for being this way…" Santana whispers into the dark.

"He doesn't…"

"Catholic."

"You don't sound too sure!" a random voice called out, and she spun at the general direction, spotting a smirking boy of about twelve.

"At least I have a religion, unbaptized pig!"

The group gave a large 'Oh!' as she spat in the spirit's direction, and she turned back to the old man, who was glaring disapprovingly at her.

"Right. You're Catholic. And yet, you're in love with another girl."

"And?"

"Well, don't you know that God isn't very accepting of your kind?" he asked her, crossing his arms over his wispy chest. "I mean, you are defying the laws of Nature-"

"It's completely natural to feel the way I feel about B!" Santana shouted out, a sob catching in her throat. Being bested by spirits! What is wrong with you?

"Really? Do you think God will feel the same way?"

"Forgive me father, for I have sinned…I fell in love with another woman. She's amazing but…I don't want to feel this way…but…does God still love me?"

"…"

"Father?"

"Three Hail Marys, my child."

She gritted her teeth and pushed forward, the ghosts suddenly wailing again. She passed through the elderly man, her whole body numbing at the cold, but she picked herself before she stumbled and continued on, suddenly picking up a run.

Her shoes weren't the most comfortable for running, but they would do.

She ran on, her feet slapping the cold dirt beneath her as she did. Every few seconds another spirit leapt at her, touching her face and enticing a scream from her. Every time, no matter what direction she ran in, she met another one…

"San! Santana!"

She shot up in bed and cried out, her brow covered in sweat, her eyes blinded by it.

"Britt! B!" she started to shout out, and she felt arms wrap around her protectively, and she fell into them, crying.

"It's OK…I got you…"

Her hands found what felt like two metal rods before her. Looking up, she noticed a low red glow coming from the top of what felt like a sturdy ladder. Looking behind her then, she saw the ghosts, all floating in place, glaring stonily at her as she flipped them off and started to climb the ladder.

She was half way up when suddenly, the first ghost appeared again.

"Listen to me, sweetie," he began, his face millimeters from hers, "try your best, you might just manage. But don't forget…when you die, you will go to Hell. Because nobody, not even the very good and loving people, can ever go to Heaven for being like you. Because God is an asshole."

She swiped at the air and continued on.

"If God is so loving and so good then why does Santana has to be the one to suffer, huh? If he's so loving then why is she going to Hell?" she heard Brittany scream at Quinn as they had yet another religious argument. She sniffled and Quinn looked at her, her eyes laced with pity.

"I'm sorry, San, but it's true…"

"Fuck you, Q."

"Look, I love you both! You're my best friends…but we all know it's true. If there is a Heaven…there's no place for either of you…"