Luckily, the house looks nothing like it looked on the real estate website.

Those were the thoughts of Shelby Corcoran, as her green eyes scrutinized the property she had just bought. To her left side, the real estate agent, Carole Hudson-Hummel kept talking about all the things in the well-sized, Victorian-style house that had been wrong and were now fixed. To her right, twelve year old Rachel Corcoran stood flabbergasted, gawking at her new house with wide, mocha-colored eyes.

"…The old wooden floors were all replaced for brand new Macassar Ebony in the requested places. The windows are all new, with insulated glazing and connected to the house's surveillance system. So are the rest of the doors," Carole rambled as she tore the "For Sale" sign off the front lawn. Shelby nodded absentmindedly. She had memorized every detail of the house, front and back. It hadn't been love at first sight when she saw the neglected state of the property that had the most perfect location in Lima, but she had decided to give it a second chance. Now, thanks to the magic of several handymen and landscaping companies, the place matched its neighbors.

The houses along the street were painted in light shades of pastel colors, with bright emerald lawns, well trimmed trees and bushes, and the cherry on top: impeccably white picket fences. Tire swings hung from nearby branches, pink flamingoes were chilling on the grass accompanied by smiling gnomes, and shaggy Labrador Retrievers would greet their Schnauzer and French Poodle friends. It was the American dream come to life.

Except for the tiny speck of imperfection that laid at the farthest corner of the block, the immediate neighbor to the vanilla walls of number sixteen, that was now the home of Shelby and Rachel Corcoran.

The properties were separated by at least a hundred and thirty feet from each other, but the number seventeen stuck out like a sore thumb that at the same time was trying too hard to be invisible.

Rachel's eyes were now glued to the house next to hers, number seventeen. It didn't look exactly like a haunted house, because there was something that wouldn't fit the descriptions in the books she had read and the movies she had watched. The few remaining patches of paint were old and flaking, the wood underneath was worn out and splintering. Most of the widows were barred or had ragged curtains covering them, keeping the outside world in the dark. The lawn was more of a patch of dry and arid soil than a garden, with one lonely tree that looked like Hogwarts' Womping Willow, looming over the sidewalk. The roots of the tree had grown too much, going under the pavement and tearing it off the main road.

The whole scenery looked like an unfinished draft for an off-off-off Broadway play (Like the one her mom had been in once, that had shut down before it even started due to lack of financial resources) and in general it just looked sad.

Very sad.

As if it had been deprived from the love and life that every house with a family inside should have. Surely nobody lived in there, right?

A warm hand on her shoulder shook Rachel out of her inner musings, and she looked up at her mom.

"What's on your mind, Rach?" the older brunette asked, trying to ignore the looming presence of the gloomy house next to theirs.

"Nothing, mom. I'm just… I'm just really glad that we're actually here now. With this beautiful house and this town and… I'm happy," said the twelve year old. Shelby gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and smiled back. "Me too."

Carole approached the pair of brunettes, house keys in hand. "Well, I guess this is it. Here's your keys, most of the paperwork is already done, and… If you need anything, you know where I live," she added with a wink as she pointed towards a pale blue house that was farther up the road. The front lawn was littered with bikes, various soccer balls and a swing set. "Oh, look! There's my youngest boy, Kurt!" she said as she waved towards a skinny kid, about Rachel's age. He had a purple and flamboyant fedora on that reminded the youngest brunette of the ones she had seen on top of the top-notch Broadway ensemble's heads. The boy waved back and Rachel smiled, maybe he would want to be her friend.

"If you tell him that you just moved from New York, he's never going to let go of you, I'm serious," said Carole with a smile. Rachel looked up at her and her eyes went wide, "Really?"

"Yes, dear. Right now I should probably leave the two of you to settle down with your things in your new house, but I can send him to say hello tomorrow morning. Sounds good?" Rachel turned towards Shelby, silently asking permission. "Sure thing, Munchkin," she agreed with a chuckle. "See, you thought it would take ages to make friends, my little drama queen."

"I'm not a drama queen."

"Of course you're not."

Carole chuckled at the interaction between the brunettes and she was starting to say her goodbyes when a small and colorful toy whizzed past her temple and landed against the white picket fence. Puzzled, Rachel went to retrieve it and brought it back to her mom and the real estate agent, who looked equally surprised. It looked like a monster, like one of those that the boys back at her school in Manhattan were always playing with.

"Isn't that a… Pokémon?" Shelby asked, looking as if the toy could come to life at any moment and destroy her new house.

Rachel was about to agree when Carole huffed and called out loudly, apparently to no one in particular, "Santana Lopez! You get down here in this instant, young lady!"

Shelby and Rachel exchanged confused looks, wondering if the summer heat was causing their real estate agent and neighbor to have some sort of psychotic episode. Before they could ask, they heard some ruffling sounds and a groan coming from high above the three that separated their house from the number fifteen, the pastel pink one.

Slowly, a pair of dirty sneakers with colorful laces appeared, followed by wrinkled jeans with grass-stains on the knees and God knew the source of the other smudges. The owner of them, a small and tan girl with unruly and dark hair appeared, climbing down the branches with the agility of someone that practiced said feat a few times per day, every day. "Did Pidgeotto escape again?" she called out innocently, before losing her footing on the last branch and landing on her behind. "Every single time…" the Latina girl muttered as she got up.

"Hi, Mrs. Hu-… Hey, that's mine!" the girl squeaked as she took the Pokémon toy from Rachel's hands. Rachel let go of the toy and shuffled behind her mother slightly, who was watching the scene with a rather amused look on her face.

Immediately, Carole jumped into action and grabbed the tan-skinned child from the back of her Superman shirt. "Hold up, missy," the older woman scolded, "Where are your manners? Or do I have to call your dad again?" Santana grumbled something unintelligible and tried to loosen herself from Carole's grip.

"Santana, I'm not joking. You know I'm not. It's not nice to throw your toys at people, especially your new neighbors." At these words, the little Latina looked up at Shelby, alarmed. "Uh… I'm sorry, ma'am…" she started apologizing nervously, "I was just… I-I… I was playing and… Pidgeotto likes to fly too far away and then he fell… Almost on your head and… yeah." Carole shook her head and nudged Santana again, who looked up sheepishly from her shoes. "So… My name's Santana Lopez and I live in the ugly pink house over there," she finished with a huff.

Shelby giggled, finding her little neighbor adorable and she extended her hand. "I'm Shelby Corcoran, and this is my daughter Rachel." Rachel gave a shy wave and stepped forward a little bit. Santana shook Shelby's hand enthusiastically as she took in the brunette's appearances. They looked fancy.

"You're the ones from the New York? I heard my Papi talking about you the other day!" she said excitedly. "Is it true that there's hotdog carts in every corner? What about pretzel carts? Can you still climb to the top of the Statue of Liberty's crown? Is everybody there a movie star? Are you movie stars? Did you see the Cloverfield monster? Did it eat your house? Is that why you moved here?" Santana bombarded the brunettes, eyes glinting with excitement. Everything in this town was always so boring. Maybe Rachel and Shelby could bring a dash of glamour and adventure to the cow town where there was barely a movie theatre.

It was Rachel's turn to chuckle as she saw another potential friend in front of her. "Not really… We didn't see the monster, but my mom worked really close from one of the places that got destroyed in the movie!" Santana's jaw dropped open and she quickly stretched her hands, offering the offending toy. "Do you like Pokémons? Do you want to play?"

Shelby inched towards Carole, letting the two girls interact. "That's Santana Lopez. She lives right next to you with her father, Carlos, her stepmother, Erica, and her three older brothers. The kids are quite a handful, but an incredibly nice family. One of the best you'll ever meet, I hope. I would watch out for 'Tana. She is a little daredevil, no surprise." Shelby hummed in approval, her eyes not moving from the girls, who now seemed to be engrossed in a serious discussion about water-type Pokémons, except that Santana appeared to be doing all the talking while Rachel just nodded along, paying all of her attention. "They seem to be getting along just fine. I was a bit worried for Rachel, because… Ever since her dad and I divorced a few months ago, she's been rather withdrawn. I just want to get her back out of her shell."

Carole nodded empathically, "Yeah, that happened to Kurt too, when his mom died. Finn was the one who brought him back. Kids will always be kids." Shelby raised an eyebrow questioningly, not wanting to intrude in the other woman's privacy. "Oh, right. I forgot you just got here," Carole excused herself, shaking her head. "My husband passed away… A long time ago, my son, Finn, barely knew her. A couple of years ago, I met Burt, who had just lost his wife to cancer. He's Kurt's dad, and we got married a few months ago."

"Oh, congratulations, Carole! And well… I'm sorry for your losses." Carole shrugged, "No reason to dwell on the past, right? Anyway, I think I'm gonna head back home. You okay with Santana here?"

"Absolutely, especially if she lives next door."

"Alright, it was a pleasure as usual, Shelby. Call me if you need anything, or don't hesitate to knock. There's always someone in the house."

"Will do. Thank you so much."

The brunette woman waved and watched as Carole walked back to her house, "For Sale" sign in hand and she turned towards the house as soon as she disappeared out of sight. Santana and Rachel were still chatting amicably, sitting on the spacious steps of the front porch. Shelby sat next to Rachel and smiled towards Santana. "So, Santana? How old are you?"

Santana puffed out her chest and stood up straight, "I'm almost eleven years old, ma'am." Shelby waved her hand dismissively, "Oh, good! Rachel just turned twelve a couple of weeks ago. But call me Shelby, please. I'm not that old to be called 'ma'am' yet, am I?" Santana blushed again, "Okay, Shelby."

"Mom, Santana was telling me everything about Pokémons! I can't believe I refused to play with them before. They are fascinating," Rachel rambled excitedly, waving her hands around, "Do you think we could go to the mall on Saturday and buy some? I have enough saved in my allowance for a few water-types and fire-types. I would really love to acquire a Ponyta or a Rapidash, because I adore horses. But Psyduck sounds cute enough."

Shelby remained clueless, but still nodded along with her daughter, "Sure, we can go as soon as you're done unpacking in your new room. Maybe Santana could give you a hand and you can show her our house? And stay for dinner, maybe?" The small Latina nodded excitedly, bouncing with the infinite amount of energy she seemed to always have. Rachel turned towards her newest friend and asked, "Would you like that? I have lots of stuffed animals. Not really Pokémons, but you could always bring some of yours over and keep teaching me." Santana was about to reply when her Power Rangers watch started beeping, and her face fell. "Oh, man. Today's Thursday, right?" Shelby and Rachel nodded and Santana sighed sadly. "I can't stay for dinner today. Thursdays are for dinner at my Abuela's and it's time for me to leave."

Rachel's frowned sadly, wondering if it wasn't one of the scams that the girls in her other neighborhood used to play. The short Latina seemed to notice Rachel's sadness and she quickly took her hand, "Hey, but what about tomorrow? I can come by super early and bring all the Pokémons and my Gameboy and the movies and I'll help you with your room, okay?" The older girl still didn't seem convinced, so Santana took her prized Pidgeotto from her pocket and placed it in Rachel's hands. "Here, you keep him for tonight, okay? He's one of my favoritestests, so that way I promise I'll come back for him and for you. Pinky promise?" The girls smiled as their pinkies intertwined.

Santana got up from the porch and dusted her tattered jeans, "M'kay, I have to leave before Erica thinks I tried to walk to Canada again…" Rachel and Shelby followed suit, "It was a pleasure meeting you, Santana," the older brunette stated warmly, shaking the Latina's sticky hand again. "Same, ma-… Shelby, oops. And Rachel, see you right here at 10 am? Right after Power Rangers Super Samurai ends." The younger brunette nodded, cradling the Pokémon toy in her hands as if it was made of glass.

The small Latina started walking away, before she abruptly stopped and turned back towards the Corcoran's. She seemed to be debating on whether to speak again or not. "You okay?" Rachel asked and Santana nodded, opening her mouth to speak. "It's just…", the Latina kept stealing furtive glances towards the eerie-looking house number seventeen.

Suddenly, she sprinted back to where Shelby and Rachel stood, and she lowered her voice to a whisper. "There's a ghost in that house… If you see her, don't be scared. She's just a little ghost and the little ghost never hurts anyone."

And with that mysterious sentence, Santana sprinted back to her pink house, making spaceship noises and leaving a confused pair of New Yorkers behind.

A/N: I'm really bad at being a good and constant writer, but this time, I'm really trying to make an effort and complete this fic. It means a lot to me.

I know it's a massive AU, and will probably get even crazier as it goes on, but that's my style. I'm a sucker for messing with existing universes and turning them into mine. The joys of writing.

I also want to send a shoutout to my amazing friend Ash, who beta'd and kept up with my crazy flow of ideas. Love you, Beeb!

Anyway, Read and Review? And PMs about anything are welcome.