Santana eventually managed to work up the energy to get up, get dressed, eat(Brittany wasn't going to let her leave if she didn't), then head out the door.

To go to Starbucks.

Oh, she was overjoyed, trust her.

It had been basically been nothing but a few, long ass hours of dealing with dumbasses she didn't like, making drinks she didn't like, working with people she didn't like.

As well as dealing with a boss she didn't fucking like.

But eventually, after the long torturous hours, her shift finally ended and she started to make her way back to the apartment.

She usually enjoyed the walk back. Not only because it wasn't work- but she took the time to wonder what Brittany had done all day, then mentally

Usually, the closer she got to her home, the more she started to feel relaxed- the thought of being able to see Brittany instantly made her start to unwind.

But there was something off today.

It felt as if each step she took was heavier, each second was longer- so much harder to take in air as she shakily tried to control her breathing.

It was almost as if she was scared- terrified to get a step closer to her apartment.

Why?

She had to stop- right before the corner, just another turn and she'd basically be home- but her knees locked up, her throat closed and she was filled with something she hadn't felt in years.

Pure terror.

She was confused as hell, she didn't know what the fuck was going on- she did not like it.

Santana fucking Lopez was not going to stand here, quaking in fear- especially over nothing. She was going to straighten up, turn the corner, and march up to her apartment like a fucking man-

And possibly have sex with Brittany on the kitchen counter. But that was more of an added thought.

So, Santana did just that. She took a deep breath, straightened herself out, and finally turned the corner-

Only to be met with a sight that she wasn't expecting- a scene she couldn't even dream of-

Something straight out of some sort of sick, twisted nightmare.

There were police cars crowded around the building- a lot of people, their neighbours- they were hovering around outside, looking frantic. Looking scared- Santana didn't see anyone injured, didn't see fire, or someone on a stretcher- so what the fuck had happened?

That's when she saw it.

One of the windows- completely smashed, like someone had taken a baseball bat to it.

It was their window.

Santana honestly didn't know that she could run that fast- a few people called out to her, mostly officers, a few worried friends- but that didn't matter because

Brittany.

Was she okay?

She had been alone, did she get hurt?

Why wasn't she outside?

Once she had finished nearly flying up the stairs, she finally got to their room. The few cops at the door tried to keep her out, but she managed to squeeze here way in- "Don't tell me not to come into my own fucking apartment! Brittany! Where's Brittany! Where-"

Her breath caught in her throat, and anything else she was going to say immediately died on her tongue, because the apartment- their home-

It was ruined.

Any piece of furniture in her line of sight was either out of place, or completely destroyed. She could see the windows had been smashed- glass scattered everywhere, nothing left on the actually sill itself. The bookshelf was knocked over- the lamp destroyed- there wasn't a single thing in the apartment that hadn't been damaged in some way or another. But that wasn't the thing that caught her attention- caught her eye- the thing that knocked the wind out of her and made her throat tighten and her stomach drop.

It was the blood- not a few specks, not a light wound- large, prominent stains that stood out in the chaos like a bull's-eye.

There was so much blood- so much-

Where was Brittany?

Santana had a default mechanism when she was upset, confused or depressed.

Anger.

Right now- she was all of the above, and she could feel her blood boiling under her skin, mixing in with the conflicting chill of fear and concern.

Hot and cold at the same time- so many emotions at once- she felt she was going to burst-

So she decided to take it out on the cop.

She needed answers.

There was an officer standing in the doorway- and in a few seconds she had him by the collar, jerking him towards her and snarling- "Where the hell is Brittany?" He looked surprised for a moment, before he gave a deadpan expression- leaning towards sympathy and fuck, fuck she was going to punch him in the face-

"We don't know."

Santana could have sworn the room froze for a minute, or maybe she just stopped paying attention, or she was too fucking angry because- "What the fuck do you mean, you don't know?"

"She isn't here," He explained- thank you Capitan fucking jackass- "when we got the call about a disturbance, we came to an empty apartment- we were just told recently that there were occupants living here. I'm assuming you're Santana Lopez?"

Santana wasn't sure what she wanted to do first. It involved murdering him, finding Brittany and killing whichever jackass was responsible for this. If possible, she'd do all three at once- "Yes," she hissed, not caring at all that she was probably being rude, or hard to work with because for fucks sake, her girlfriend was missing- "I am Santana fucking Lopez, and I'd like to know where my fucking girlfriend is!"

"Miss, I know you're concerned-"

"Understatement of the year, Jackass."

"But we're doing the best we can. It will really help us if you cooperate, and keeping your temper will contribute to that more."

She could almost handle the lecture. She could almost handle how he tried to give her a look akin to sympathy, that just came out fucking deadpan- but what she could not handle-

What she would not fucking deal was the way he was acting like this wasn't a big deal- like this was just another case, just another girl- like it wasn't the love of her fucking life that was missing- and to even suggest Santana calm down- she fucking lost it.

"Don't fucking talk to me like that, you fucker," Her voice was raising, other people were looking- fuck, people outside could probably hear but she couldn't bring herself to care, "she's missing. She's missing and you don't give a shit- fine, you don't know her- what the fuck ever. Don't act like you actually care, I don't give a fuck if you do- just make sure you find her."

By the time she had finished, she was out of breath. More than half the room was staring at her, some concerned, some frightened and others slightly irritated- all of them could go fuck themselves. The room was suddenly too small, there wasn't enough air and everyone was a fucking idiot.

She needed out-

So, she left.

Grabbed her coat off the chair, pushed her way pas the cops and ran out as fast as she could. Santana vaguely heard people call after her, telling her to calm down, she was in danger –all that bull shit but she knew that if she stayed in there a second longer, stayed and there and looked at it all; The blood, the glass, the damage and the fact that Brittany wasn't there then she'd break down. She'd break down and she couldn't afford that, not right now.

She had to focus.

Being from the underground, from the slums as she was, she'd learned a few things in life. Other than how to steal, lie and fuck- she'd learned never to trust the police. To serve and protect- that was total bullshit. All they were was power hungry, they beat you down so you remember who's in charge and it's never the other way round. Someone like that wouldn't give two shits about Brittany -where she was, or if she was okay. They'd be no help- so that left it up to Santana. Which was fine- like she wanted anyone else poking their noses where they didn't belong?

This was Santana's fight. It was her woman- 'partner' they'd messed with. So she'd pay whoever the fuck it was back tenfold, and make sure that the only way they'd get out of the situation with their fucking life was if they got down on their knees and begged.

Even then, it depended on how scared Brittany was.

But that lead to another set of questions. Who would take her? Why? Was it something against Brittany, or…

Santana didn't want to think about that- think about the fact that Brittany might have been taken, might be hurt or…worse- all because of her.

But that was the only thing that made sense, wasn't it? Brittany was sweet and pure. Maybe not entirely innocent, but she was a genuinely nice person. Nice to everyone she met and always trying to keep everyone else's best intentions in mind. Not a single person she'd ever come across had grown to do anything but adore her, and that was just it. You met Brittany and you fell in love with her, simple as that.

So no one would want to hurt her-

Unless they were using her.

But why? I mean- Santana knew she was a pretty nasty person, pissed a lot of people off- but something to merit this?

What had she done?

"I can tell you."

Startled, Santana whipped herself around, ready to beat the answers out of anyone who may have them-

Only to come face to face with someone she hadn't seen in a long, long time, even though she recognized that dumb ass Mohawk…

"Son of a bitch…" She muttered, grinning slightly despite the current situation, "Noah fucking Puckerman. What the hell are you doing here?"

Puck walked a bit closer, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his black coat as he shrugged a bit, "I was in the neighbourhood."

"Bullshit." Santana said, deadpan and Puck simply smiled a bit. It was…out of character for the usually rebellious teen- then again, he wasn't a teen anymore, was he? "You said you could tell me. Tell me what?" It suddenly came back to her that she didn't have time for any sappy reunions, and she scowled. "Because if this is just for some shitty oh I missed you and I want to reconnect bullshit then I swear to god, I don't have the fucking time-"

"I know where Brittany is."

That caught her attention pretty quickly."

"Are you serious?" She asked, frantic "Where!"

"I'll tell you, but not here. Too crowded. Let's move locations." He didn't say another word as he turned and started walking, and Santana was this close to kicking him in the back of the head and telling him to go fuck himself. But she had this feeling. This feeling that if she didn't go with him, didn't follow Puck to wherever he was going-

She would never see Brittany again.

"And THIS is any less fucking crowded, Jackass?"

Santana's eyebrow twitched, eyes narrowing as she glared at Puck from across the table. They had walked nearly twenty minutes, until they eventually stopped at a little cafe she'd never heard of until now- it was nice, sure. But if he wanted to speak privately, then this didn't seem like the best choice of fuckin' venue.

"No, but its fine. No one will ask here." Was all the explanation he gave, as he picked up his cup and took a sip ofridiculously bitter looking coffee. Santana didn't have a particular sweet tooth- but Jesus. "Onto the business at hand?"

"You sound like a fucking social worker."

"And you're just as much of a bitch as always." What may have seemed offensive actually helped to settle the mood, previous a bit awkward considering the time they'd been apart. But it was a joke, just like the old days and Santana nearly smiled despite herself. "Can I talk now, Jackass?"

"No one's stopping you, dipshit." She said with a bit of a smirk, which fell when Puck's face once again took on a deadly serious expression.

"Brittany was kidnapped, and they intend to kill her."