DISCLAIMER: "Glee," the characters, and situations depicted are the property of Ryan Murphy Productions, and 20th Century Fox Entertainment. The Hollows series and its characters are the property of Kim Harrison, and Harper Collins Publishers. This piece of fan fiction was created for fun and not profit.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
FEEDBACK: To michkidd[at]earthlink.net
Witches, Vampires and Complicated Things
It was another half hour before Mercedes and Kurt arrived, a half hour for Finn to talk Rachel down and stick with the plan. Rachel agreed but made no promises if Piscary touched Quinn again in Rachel's presence.
The plan was simple. The humans would have to stay outside. Humans rarely went into Piscary's and the ones that did were either vamp Shadows or exclusive members of society. Parked a block and a half up the street, Mercedes and Kurt would act as the 'getaway vehicle'. Santana, Puck, Tina and now Finn stayed across the street. If things were to get hairy, they would act as muscle. Tina acting as 'back up witch', her magic wasn't as strong as Rachel's but she had a few aces up her sleeve.
That left Rachel, Brittany and Artie. Humans didn't go into Piscary's, they would be spotted immediately. So that left the Inderlanders. Artie slipped through a crack in a window, scouting out the place then opened the backdoor so Rachel and Brittany could quietly sneak in. It had been Mercedes and Kurt's job to find waitress uniform's for Rachel and Brittany, the ones they wore in Piscary's so the two could blend in.
Brittany turned at the hand on her elbow. Rachel dug into her pocket, pulling out two silver bracelets with a single charm hanging from them.
"Here," she said.
It wasn't an invisibility spell but damn close. If they moved really slow, or stood still, they mostly not be seen. More like the shadow in the corner of one's eye, there but not there.
They moved into the kitchen, maneuvering between waiters and cooks and busboys in a chaotic dance that ended with a few plates hitting the floor, the chef threatening the head waiter with a kitchen knife and the head waiter not backing down with a roller.
"Do you see them?" Rachel whispered forcefully. They'd, thankfully, made it to the front of the kitchen relatively unscathed aside from thumping hearts and palms sticky with fear. They stood by the double doors with circular windows cut into each. Brittany, being the taller of the two, had to stand on tip-toe to peer through.
"Yeah," she responded.
The door swung inwards as another waiter rushed into the kitchen and both girls pressed themselves to the wall to keep from being hit. Rachel grabbed the edge of the door, letting it stay open a few seconds longer as she peered her head around the edge.
The décor was in an old Tuscan style, with faux arches, dull beiges and dark burgundy's. There were tables and booths, a stairway that led to the second floor, another that led to the basement. Two places Rachel knew she never wanted to go.
Piscary and the Fabray family sat at the largest, most prominent table in the restaurant, the one meant for special guests. They were already on the second course, all the Fabray's looking somber, Quinn picking at her food like the very thought of eating would make her throw up all while Piscary smiled and laughed like he was having the time of his life.
"I think it's time for a toast!" Piscary boasted loudly, raising his glass into the air.
Rachel let the door close. "It's time."
They moved all at once, Brittany finding and grabbing a serving tray and wine glass, as Rachel followed Artie to find a bottle of wine.
The bottle was already open, sitting on a counter like the wait staff were prepared should Piscary ask for it. Rachel grabbed the bottle, filled the wine glass. Her fingers went to the necklace around her neck. She unscrewed the vial, the three of them watching intently as she gently poured the tiny drops into the glass.
Rachel removed the bracelet from her wrist, nullifying the spell. Then set the tray, bottle and filled glass onto her hand, turned towards the door..
She was really going to do this. She was really going to put a spell on a master vampire, in a house filled with vampires. All the rage, anger, the resolve to do this turned to stark raving fear. Her feet took root to the ground, her muscles froze, her heart double timed within her chest.
Suddenly, Artie was right in front of her face, wings a blur as he hovered inches away. "Rachel?"
"I.." she stammered.
"Just imagine you're at Carnegie Hall," he said. "You're on center stage. The lights are dimming. The curtain's rising. This is your moment Rachel."
Somehow, it worked. Rachel nodded, inhaling deeply. Then, the grim line on her face was a broad smile and she was the star on a stage playing the role of a lifetime.
Even without the bracelet, no one seemed to notice the girl with the white shirt and black skirt holding a tray and entering the restaurant. No one looked up. No one noticed her. Just another part of the staff. The help. Rachel approached Piscary's table. It was Quinn who noticed her first, what little blood left in her face draining completely. She shook her head minutely, silently mouthing 'no'.
Rachel stood at Piscary's table, between Piscary and Quinn. She set the tray down before him. "Compliments of the house."
Piscary turned his eyes towards Rachel and Rachel had to swallow the gasp rushing up her throat. His irises were completely black and as he smiled she could see his fangs gleaming under the restaurant lights.
"A toast," Piscary said, grabbing the glass offered to him by the stem. "To the union of our two houses." With his free hand, he reached for Quinn and Rachel had to step back. Fingertips under her chin, Piscary raised Quinn's face, turning it towards him. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this day," he leered, voice dripping with menace and desire.
Rachel swallowed hard, her eyes glued to the glass in Piscary's hand. Like everything was suddenly in slow motion, Piscary lifted the glass. Slowly, painfully slow, he brought it to his lips..
His lips stretched into a feral smile as he pushed the glass away from his mouth, moved it towards Rachel, then tipped the glass, the contents spilling at Rachel's feet.
He knew, Rachel thought. He fucking knew.
Before Rachel could think of drawing on her magic, before she could think of tapping into a ley line, creating a bubble of Ever-after to separate herself and Quinn from Piscary, a wave of heat sucker punched her deep in the gut. Rachel groaned loudly, her eyes practically rolling into the back of her head. All at once, her knees turned to jelly, her insides boiled and her core enflamed, hummed.
Her scar. That damned unclaimed vamp bite. The one that made Rachel vamp candy to any and all vampires. When Quinn pulled on Rachel's scar, it was mostly accidental. With Karofsky, he was a low-blood vamp and completely inexperience. A master vampire like Piscary on the other hand. With just a look, Piscary pulled on her scar and, just like that, she hovered over the precipice, wanting him to stop, wanting him to push her over.
"Everyone out!" he growled and people were up and out of their seats, rushing towards the door. Slowly, predatorily, he rose from his seat and Rachel heard Quinn whimper. He gently waved his hand and Rachel's head was turning, tilting, offering her neck to him. Leaning into her, lips hovering over her neck, Piscary inhaled deeply and Rachel gasped at the hard twitch deep in her vagina. "Did you really think you could pull one over on me?"
It was Artie, swooping down and towards them, tiny little sword in his hand.
Piscary didn't move, kept his lips hovering over Rachel's neck. Merely swung his hand, swatting Artie like a fly and Artie was across the room, smacking hard against the wall. Brittany rushed towards him, lowering to her knees as she protectively cradled his unconscious body in her hands.
Piscary leaned back from Rachel's neck and the pull snapped like a twig. Rachel slumped to her knees only to be yanked back up to her feet by Piscary. He dropped her into his seat, moving to stand behind Quinn.
The room had cleared out on Piscary's word but it was far from empty. There were his vampire minions, the Fabray's and Rachel felt her heart sink as the door opened, more vamp thugs entered, flanking Puck, Santana, Tina and Finn. Rachel could only breathe a tiny sigh of relief that Mercedes and Kurt hadn't been captured.
The four were marched into the center of the room, Santana and Puck both bruised and bleeding. Puck's injuries looked the worst, his left eye was already swollen shut, nose broken, lip split. Rachel attempted to mouth 'I'm sorry' but her lips didn't seem to want to move.
Piscary stepped behind Quinn's chair, placing his hands on her shoulders. "I'm almost impressed," he chuckled. "By this.. ragtag clan of yours. I'm especially impressed by your witch." He squeezed his fingers. "She'll make a nice pet for our collection."
Quinn closed her eyes, tear rolling down her cheek. "Please stop," she whispered.
"Did you really think you could get away from me?"
"I'm not running," Quinn answered.
Rachel strained against the pull on her aura, turned her eyes to Quinn's parents. "Why won't you do anything?" she pleaded.
Russell's face twitched minutely, like he was trying to remember why this was wrong. Judy looked like she'd aged ten years, eyes staring blankly forward.
"You should know to stay out of vampire business, witch," Piscary growled, pulling on Rachel's scar. Rachel squirmed, swallowed the moan rising up her throat as she folded her arms over her stomach and squeezed tightly.
"Quinn's sister tried to run," he paused and his voice went low and menacing as he glared at the elder Fabray's. "And we all know what happened to her." He leaned down, pressing his lips to the shell of Quinn's ear. "Don't worry, Quinn. You'll learn to like it. You'll learn to love it. I know I will."
A scream pierced the air. Feral and wounded, like an animal backed into a corner with no way out.
And all Hell broke loose.
Judy Fabray, eyes black, fangs extended, launched herself across the table. Knife in hand, she plunged it into Piscary's heart. He tumbled backwards, falling hard on his back. Judy fell with him. Straddling his hips, she withdrew the blade, both hands gripping the hilt, raised it over her head and plunged it back again and again and again.
Piscary was dead by the time his henchmen were on Judy, yanking her away. Her eyes crazed and manic as she screamed wildly.
A vampire's first instinct was always to protect their master. Tina was the first to act. The grip on her arm loosened and she pulled her magics, the air crackling and spitting around her. Sparks of static electricity danced down her arm, balling into her hand. She tossed the ball of energy at the vamp holding Puck. It him square in the chest, sending him flying backwards. Puck howled at his sudden found freedom, growling, tossing a fist at the vamp holding Santana.
Finn pulled the smoke bomb from his pocket, nothing more than a firecracker really but completely effective. He lit it, tossing it towards a table. It exploded a second later, spewing smoke and filling the room.
Brittany was already up and on her feet, Artie cradled protectively against her chest as she ran towards the exit.
Rachel wanted to move. She really, really did. Her body just refused to move. She couldn't take her eyes off Piscary, the gashes on his chest, the expanding red on the white sea of his shirt. He was dead. She knew it. But a little of his life force remained, just enough to keep pulling at her aura, to keep her rooted to her seat.
Then, there were arms wrapping around her, yanking her out of her seat and pulling her backwards. Finn, his voice muddy and distant like a dream in her ear. "Rachel! Come on!"
"No!" Rachel snapped out of her haze. "Not without Quinn."
His life force gone, Piscary's hold broke like a tree branch in a storm. "Finn, no!" she screamed, wriggling and jerking in his arms. "Quinn!"
Quinn stood next to her father, his arm draped protectively around her shoulder, their backs to a wall. The two of them surrounded by a half dozen vampires. At the sound of her name, Quinn lifted her eyes, meeting Rachel's gaze.
Heart sinking, Rachel could only think Quinn looked just like her mother. Haunted. The smoke thickened, Quinn and her father and the half dozen vamps becoming diffused and distant as Finn dragged Rachel out of the restaurant.
All Rachel could think was Quinn had been saved from Piscary. All Rachel could think was did she make it worse?
They gathered afterwards at Rachel's church. The walking wounded, looking uncertain and haunted, unsure whether they'd won the battle or lost the war. A master vampire was dead. While it hadn't been at any of their hands, they were there, the chaos that created the opportunity. And no one had any answers for the questions that followed. Would they be arrested? Would the vamps hold them responsible? Would the vamps come after them?
None of that compared to when Rachel, along with Brittany who refused to let Artie go, took Artie out back to his family's stump. For a tiny little man, Artie's dad had a loud voice when he needed to. Use it and use it he did, tearing a new hole into all of them when he found out what they'd done. He'd threatened to call all their parents but, in the end, it was an empty threat. He was Pixie and knew a thing or two about the depths one would go to protect family.
It still didn't stop their questions. And when the questions were asked, they looked to Rachel for the answers. This had been her idea, after all. Only, Rachel didn't have any answers. Piscary's death hadn't been part of the plan and Rachel certainly hadn't thought about what would happen after her actual plan.
In pairs or alone, they began to filter away, going back to their own homes and their thoughts of the night and what was to come.
Rachel stood on the back porch, arms folded over her middle, wrapped once again in her Grandmother's shawl. She stared at the tree stump, the tiny flickering lights through little holes. It was the lack of laughter that chilled Rachel to the bone. There was always the sounds of Pixie laughter filtering from the back yard. Now, as their eldest brother lay injured, the Pixies were silent.
"You did the right thing," Finn said, standing next to Rachel and tucking his hands in the pockets of his letterman's jacket.
Rachel sighed. "Why doesn't it feel like it?"
"You couldn't have known what Mrs. Fabray would do."
"No. But I could have thought of something a little less dangerous. Artie's hurt because of me."
"This isn't your fault," he cut her off. "If it's anyone's fault, it's Piscary's. Far as I'm concerned, he got what was coming to him."
"What about what's coming to us, Finn?" she turned to face him. "There could be serious repercussions. Who knows what this means for Quinn. I should have thought.." her voice trailed. She sighed bringing a hand to her face like she could wipe the worry away.
The moments ticked by, the silence settling between the two. Finn continued to stand next to Rachel, examining the far away look in her eyes. "You really care about her, don't you?"
"Of course I do."
"No," he shifted on the balls of his feet. "I mean as more than a friend."
"Oh," Rachel paused, bowing her head. Her fingers went to the scar on her neck. The mere mention of Quinn and Rachel's fingers were always going to the scar on her neck. "I don't know. I mean.. I don't know how to explain it. I can't even think of how to explain it."
"It's okay, Rach. I understand."
"You do?" she turned her face back towards his, eyes wide in confusion.
"It's like.. we all look the same, humans and Inderlanders, but we're not. Not really. You try and forget, and it always comes back to remind you."
"Finn.." she sighed, voice weary, resigned. Finn had dated a witch, a vampire, a werewolf and, though he didn't know it, an elf. Dated and failed. Rachel felt her shoulders sag as she recognized the finality in his voice. Finn couldn't do it anymore. They, Rachel and Finn, were over. "I'm sorry."
"Rachel.." he inhaled deeply, smiling. "Quit apologizing for everything. It's not your fault. It's not anybody's fault." He leaned towards her, pressing his lips to her temple. "You're perfect just the way you are. Hopefully, you'll find someone who's perfect for you."
"What if that person's you?"
Finn leaned back, stepping away from her and towards the door as the smile on his lips faded just a little. "Goodbye, Rachel."
It felt good to cry. To just crawl into bed, curl into a ball and just cry. Rachel cried long and hard. She cried for herself, for thinking she was important enough, strong enough to make a difference. She cried for her friends, who were all probably going to die at the hands of the vampires.
She cried for Quinn.
For the parents Quinn lost though their bodies still remained and their inability to protect her when she needed it the most. For the awful things Piscary had done to her and Rachel's own inability to save her. Mostly, Rachel cried for what she and Quinn had, what neither really understood. The thing that made Rachel push Quinn away when all she wanted was her near. She mourned the loss of what could have been and now never would be.
Rachel cried long after the tears couldn't flow. Until the adrenaline wore off and exhaustion caught up with her.
It was mid-afternoon when Rachel finally awoke, all bleary-eyed and languid body. A beam of sunlight warmed the middle of the bed. Rachel peered quizzically at the window, she didn't remember closing the curtains. The sounds of the church and the world outside filled her ears, the occasional car driving by, a lawnmower running in the distance, the song of birds singing, the laughter of Pixies.
Rachel bolted upright into a seated position, yanking and kicking off the sheets tangling her legs. Still in the waitress uniform, the sight of it brought everything back - Rachel's plan, her spell, Piscary.
And she was up and on her feet, jerking open her bedroom door and running down the hall. Pixies darted out of her way, laughing, sprinkling her with Pixie dust. She ran through the kitchen, practically barreling through the back door before skidding to a stop on the porch.
"Artie!" she called out, lump in her throat.
The buzz of Pixie wings and there Artie was, hovering a feet feet from Rachel's head, wailing infant under one arm. There was a bandage wrapped around his head, tiny strips of tape on the bridge and an arm of his tiny glasses. But Artie was flying. Artie was alive.
"Hey Rachel," he smiled back at her.
"You.. You're okay?"
"Oh," his smile faded. "It's worse than it looks," he paused, impish grin curling his lips. "I can't feel my legs."
Trembling fingers to her lips, Rachel stifled the laugh bubbling up her throat. "But, you're okay?"
"Pfft!" Artie, sibling under his arm, darted back and forth. "Takes more than a two-thousand year old master vampire to put Pixie down!"
"Artie, if you weren't so tiny, I'd give you a giant hug!" she laughed as a mountain's worth of guilt lifted off her shoulders.
Rachel eagerly went back into the church and proceeded to text everyone. Something good had come out of all of this, even if something bad had to happen for the good to follow. Artie was okay. That's all that mattered at the moment.
Rachel texted everyone and everyone texted her back, everyone except Quinn. She tried not to think about it too much as she danced about the kitchen. All she could hope for was that Quinn got the message and knew her friends were okay.
The weekend ended, Monday rolled around and it was back to school. Rachel relished the return to normalcy. Everything the same, even if everything was different. Word spread like wildfire regarding Piscary's death. It'd made the front pages of the newspapers, news vans had been camped outside Piscary's since that night. There were also the 'rumors'. It'd been confirmed pretty early that Judy Fabray had killed Piscary. No, not those rumors, the rumors about a group of high school students and possible street gang attacking the known vampire hang out.
When Glee won Regionals, it'd been easy for the students of McKinley High to not care, to continue with their tauntings and teasings and bullying. When Glee was rumored to have been involved with the death of a master vampire, that was something different. Students made a wide berth around the Glee kids, especially Rachel. She heard the whispers, saw the finger pointing. Even Karofsky, super-sized Slushie in hand, thought twice about throwing it in Rachel's face, choosing a chess club student at the last second.
For eight glorious school days, the Glee kids could walk into school, their chins relatively high knowing they would remain unscathed. As the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. The headlines faded. The reporters, photographers and news crews, like vultures searching for the next carcass to pick over, drifted away on the winds of fresher breaking news.
Judy Fabray killed Piscary. Everything was conjecture, rumor, gossip. And no one really wanted to believe the kids in Glee could possibly have anything to do with a master vampire's death.
Rachel knew the salad days were over the day Karofsky finally did toss a Slushie in her face. She stood alone in the choir room, pastel pink sweater hanging over a chair to dry, the button down shirt underneath had remained thankfully dry. Standing next to the piano, she tapped the rhythm of the sheet music before her with a pencil. Things weren't exactly back to normal, only about as close as they were probably going to get and Rachel wasn't going to complain. She loved magic and being a witch. She just loved being a singer more.
The air around her seemed to shift. Rachel felt the hairs on the back of her neck standing on edge. Someone had entered the room. She turned. He stood at the entrance, in a perfectly tailored Giorgio Armani suit, black Italian loafers. In his right hand was a cane, most certainly for show because he didn't look like he limped. He looked familiar, but it was hard to tell with the sunglasses on his face.
Then he smiled and Rachel paled at the sight of razor sharp fangs.
"Rachel Morgan-Berry," he said.
"Can I help you?" she swallowed hard, too frightened to move or even think about running.
"I most certainly hope you can." He stepped deeper into the room, cane tip clacking softly on the tiled floor. "There's no need to be frightened, Miss Morgan-Berry. I'm not here to hurt you."
"Then why are you here?"
He stopped, making the piano a barrier between them. Not that a baby grand piano between them would really matter. He was a vampire, if he truly wanted to hurt Rachel, he could. "Forgive my rudeness.." He removed his sunglasses, exposing irises black as midnight. "My name is Cormel. Rynn Cormel."
Rachel's mouth formed into an 'o'. She recognized him now. He was the author of that book Quinn was always carrying around like she didn't want anyone to see her with it, a guide to dating vampires or something. New York Times best seller and everything.
"Like I said," he continued. "I'm here to thank you. Seems there's a new opening for head of the Cincinnati camarilla. That would be me," he paused, sliding a fingertip over the piano's surface. "And I have you to thank."
Rachel stepped back as if punched. "I didn't kill Piscary."
He tilted his head down slightly, looking up at Rachel. "That's not entirely true, now is it?"
"I said I wasn't here to hurt you and I meant it," he cut her off, anger coloring his voice. He inhaled deeply, lips stretching into a smile once more. "Vampire politics is a tricky thing. It either involves waiting an inordinate amount of time. Something Piscary could tell you about if he were still alive seeing as how he spent 2,000 years in prison. Or, it involves a lot of bloodshed. I've had my eye on the Cincinnati camarilla and here I have it, without having spent too much time nor shedding too much blood. You have done me a favor, Rachel Morgan-Berry. But, being a man who doesn't like to owe more than he lends, I am here to return it."
"I..I.." Disbelieving, Rachel shook her head. "I don't understand."
"She's free. Your Ivy has been cleared of any involvement in Piscary's death. Of course, you must understand, she is still part of my clan and therefore under my aegis but my interest in Ivy is less.. prurient than Piscary's ever was."
"What is your interest in Quinn?"
"She's free, Rachel Morgan-Berry." This time, the menace in Rynn's voice was intention. He grabbed his sunglasses and slid them back over his eyes. "That is all you need to know."
With that, Rynn Cormel turned and headed towards the door he'd entered through. Halfway across the floor, Rynn stopped then turned back around. "No," he said. "That is not all you need to know. Know this, Piscary let his arrogance get the better of him. I am not so lackadaisical."
The Fabray's didn't just live on the other side of town. They lived on the other side of town, the side with manicured lawns maintained by a paid staff, expensive cars, high walls surrounding expansive grounds. It was a two and a half mile walk from the bus stop to Quinn's home, no, not home - mansion. The black iron wrought gate was opened when Rachel finally. She walked up the quarter-mile driveway, past bushes shaped into the form of animals, a garden pool, koi snapping at the surface searching for food. Everyone knew the Fabray family was loaded, Rachel never realized just how much until now.
Quinn's car, a red convertible the top already down, was parked where the end of the driveway met the front of the house. Door slamming behind her, Quinn rushed out of her home. Quinn, Rachel's Quinn (if Rachel were ever the type to use such qualifiers), was dressed in her leather pants, boots, blood red silk blouse, black leather trench draped over a forearm. Her hair spilled loosely from her head, her skin looked almost golden. Healthy. And Rachel breathed a sigh of relief didn't realize she'd been holding. Quinn took the steps down two at a time then stopped in her tracks at the sight of one Rachel Morgan-Berry at her home.
"Rachel!" Quinn gasped aloud, head jerking left then right behind her before re-focusing on Rachel. "What are you doing here?"
"I've only texted you, like, a billion times," Rachel answered, smiling sheepishly. "The least you could have done was responded."
"I've been busy. In case you haven't heard, my mother's in jail for killing a master vampire." Quinn shook her head, shoulders sagging as she exhaled. "I'm sorry. I.." She stepped down the remaining steps of the front porch. "I've been meaning to talk to you.."
"Rynn Cormel came to see me."
"He did!?!" Quinn's eyes went wide. "Why?"
"Is it true?" Rachel stepped forward, moving around the front of Quinn's car. "That you and your Dad aren't in trouble?"
"Yeah," Quinn nodded, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "After.. you know, things got crazy. You'd think the Cincinnati clan wouldn't be that big a deal but Piscary had his fingers in everything. It turned into a bigger deal than anyone realized. Anyway, there was a vote and stuff, and Rynn Cormel was named head of the Cincinnati clan."
Rachel moved again, another step closer, stopping only until she and Quinn were less than a foot apart. "But, is it true? Are you free?"
"Yes.. No.. My father and I are still in the clan." Quinn's brows crinkled, like she didn't quite comprehend the question. Vampire politics. She shook her head softly, corners of her lips upturning slightly. Arms folding over her chest, she bowed her head slightly as her cheeks turned a light shade of pink. "Rynn's not a creeper like Piscary. He's.. nice."
"Oh my God!" Rachel laughed. "You have a crush on him!?! That's why you're always carrying his book like you're protecting your diary!"
"It's autographed!!" Quinn huffed.
"Either way," Rachel shrugged, smiling. "You look good."
"Thanks." The blush on Quinn's cheeks deepened. "Look, I'd really do want to talk but.." She paused, checking her watch then quickly glancing over her shoulder. "There's some place I have to go. Right now."
Before Rachel could think of responding, Quinn was behind the wheel, engine purring as she turned the key then hit the gas. Halfway down the driveway, the car stopped, tail lights turning white as Quinn hit reverse and pulled back up next to Quinn.
Quinn's hands had a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel. She kept her face forward, expression grim and serious. "Would you.." she stopped, turning her head to face Rachel. "Would you come with me?"
Hands already gripping the door handle, Rachel nodded and smiled as she pulled the door open and slid into the passenger's seat.
"Where are we going?"
After the fifth time, Rachel stopped asking the question. She slipped into the passenger's seat and before she could even get her seatbelt fastened, Quinn slammed the accelerator, they were down the driveway, on the street and off like a shot.
It didn't take long before Lima was nothing more than a fading sign post in the rearview mirror. Despite Quinn's serious mood, it felt oddly right. The two of them together, Quinn's car roaring down the highway, the top down, warm sun shining as the wind whipped through their hair and Gwen Stefani on the radio singing about 'finding a way to make the world go round'.
Rachel didn't know where they were going yet couldn't find a reason to care. Quinn was free from Piscary. Healthy. Safe. Quinn was with her. Now, if she could only get the blonde to talk.
Shifting in her seat, Rachel noticed Quinn's quick side-eyed glance, her fingers curling the gear shift a little tighter. Nonchalantly as possible, Rachel leaned forward, fiddling with the radio then leaning back in her seat, re-crossing her legs. And there it was, another quick glance from Quinn.
"Would you stop staring at my legs?" Rachel asked with a smile.
"When you stop wearing those damn short skirts," Quinn answered, slight upturn of the corner of her lips. "I'll stop staring at your legs."
It wasn't much, making Quinn smile, but Rachel would take it.
Less than an hour later, Cincinnati was before them, all tall skyscrapers and urban sprawl. And Rachel's mood turned as somber as Quinn's. Rachel finally figured out where they were going.
The Inderlander Women's Correctional Facility.
It was both bigger and smaller than Rachel thought it would be. Built ten years after the Turn, with high walls of red brick, barbed wire and sentry towers. A temporary holding facility until the prisoners within could be transferred to the main prison.
Quinn drove the car over the line to enter the parking lot and Rachel felt a hard pressure on her eardrums. The prisoners inside were Inderlanders and Inderlanders only and Rachel felt the strong magic used to keep them contained like a lead shroud. The feel of that magic reaffirmed Rachel's resolve to never, ever be on the wrong side of the law.
The car slowed to a halt as Quinn parked. Quinn inhaled deeply, lips set into a grim line, a little of the color leaving her face. She lifted her head, turned her eyes to Rachel. "You.. You don't have to come inside if you don't want to."
"Quinn." Rachel reached out, placed her hand over Quinn's on the steering wheel. "I said I'd come with you. I'm coming with you."
They sat side by side in a barely half filled waiting area, with hard plastic chairs, a tv with rabbit ears bolted to the wall and tuned to the Weather Channel. Rachel busied herself with a magazine, a six-year old copy of 'Magic Weekly'. Quinn sat rigid straight, hands on her knees, nails digging into the leather.
"Quinn Fabray?" someone shouted and both girls heads shot up.
Quinn swallowed hard, rising from her seat. Rachel reached up, clasping her hand around Quinn's.
"It's going to be okay."
Lips twitching, trying to return Rachel's smile and failing, Quinn could only nod her head.
Two guards led Quinn to another room, with a line of chairs, thick glass and chairs on the other side. Judy Fabray sat at the center, in an orange jumpsuit, white t-shirt underneath, receiver already pressed to her ear. Her smile was forced, like she was trying to remember what a smile was or why she should be smiling. Quinn sat down, picked up her receiver and Judy's smile turned genuine.
"Are you," Judy asked. "Okay?"
"Yeah," Quinn nodded. "Are you?"
Judy paused, eyes twitching minutely as she searched for the proper response. "The food could be better."
Quinn fidgeted in her seat. "Why'd you do it, Mom?"
Whatever soul remained within Judy Fabray rushed forward, the clarity visible in her eyes. "You're my daughter," rushed from her lips. "A mother is supposed to protect her child. I just wish I'd been able to protect your sister."
"Mom," Quinn said weakly, lower lip trembling as her eyes filled with tears. She lifted her hand and placed it to the glass.
Judy's eyes went to Quinn's hand, her expression mournful as her mind replayed memories and she wondered how she could have ever forgotten them. "Tiny little fingers," she said, tracing her fingertips around Quinn's hand. "I remember when you were born. So tiny and fragile and perfect. And strong." Judy pressed her own hand against Quinn's. "You've always been the strong one, Ivy. When it's your turn. When you have a child of your own. Be strong. Don't forget like I did."
Rachel rose from her seat as Quinn entered the waiting room. Quinn looked distraught, no, she looked puzzled Rachel decided as the blonde made her ways towards her. Quinn stopped less than a foot from Rachel, her eyes darting back and forth across the floor. Rachel reached out, clasped her hands around both of Quinn's wrists.
"Quinn, what is it?"
"It's my Mom," Quinn stammered, lifting her eyes and focusing them on Rachel. "She wants to see you."
Sitting across from Judy Fabray was like sitting in a meat locker and staring at ice. Even through the thick glass partition, coldness just radiated off the woman.
Rachel sheepishly picked up the receiver, placing it to her ear. "Hello?" was all she could muster.
"You're the witch," Judy said, eyes narrowing. Relations between witches and vampires wasn't like between vampires and werewolves, but there was still a distrust there. Witches, in general, didn't consort with vampires and vampires were happy to keep it that way. "Rachel Morgan-Berry."
"You.." her voice faltered. Judy softened. It was like watching a curtain rise, a soul revealed on the stage. "You tried to save my daughter."
Eyes narrowing once more, Judy tilted her head. "Why?"
"Quinn's my friend."
"Do you love her?" Judy asked.
Rachel swallowed hard, stammering, "I don't.."
"Your scent is all over her. Even that Finn boy's scent wasn't as strong. You know how powerful an aphrodisiac the mixing of scents is."
Rachel bowed her head, cheeks flaming. Her thoughts immediately going to the book and all the things she'd read not to do.. after she'd already done them.
"It's not like people think," Judy continued, ignoring Rachel's rising embarrassment. "Richard's death wasn't an accident. He chose it. He thought being undead would make him stronger, better able to protect our family. I couldn't bear the thought of being without him, so I followed. You've seen what happens to us after the transition," she paused, waiting for Rachel's nod. "We know. We see. And we're still arrogant enough to believe it won't happen to us. I became undead to protect my daughters," Judy paused, swallowing hard as the tears welled in her eyes. "Then stood by and did nothing as that monster.. brutalized my baby girl.."
Judy's voice trailed and Rachel could see the fight within her. The fight to keep her disappearing soul. "It's okay, Mrs. Fabray," Rachel spoke softly. "Piscary can't hurt Quinn anymore."
"But what about 'The Darkness'?" Judy spoke, the fight gone and Rachel shivered as all that gazed back at her was undead vampire. Judy blinked, her soul light-switching back on. "Ivy's strong but she's also fragile. So very fragile. I can't protect her. Not anymore. Neither can Russell. But you can. Promise me you'll protect her. Promise me you'll keep her safe."
Rachel nodded as her entire being filled with uncertainty. Rachel had tried to protect Quinn once and failed. Had Judy Fabray not killed Piscary, who knows what would have happened to Quinn, to all of them. And here she was, promising to keep Quinn safe when Rachel couldn't even keep herself safe. But what was the alternative? Turn her back on Quinn and let Quinn go it alone? There was Rynn Cormel. Except, Rachel didn't trust Rynn, not like Quinn did. While he said Quinn was free and he'd leave her alone, there was something in the way he said, something in between the words spoken and unspoken. A qualifier that hung in the air. Rynn said he'd leave Quinn alone.
For now was all Rachel heard.
Rynn may or may not have been the polar opposite of Piscary, but there were other master vampires out there, other heads of friendly and rival clans. Piscary lacked subtlety in his interest in the Fabray family, but there were layers. Quinn's family was rich, powerful, at one time, eyes looked towards Russell Fabray as future head of the Cincinnati camarilla. Who knew who's eyes were still looking or what they potentially saw.
It was all enough to make Rachel's head spin. It made her feel incredibly old and terribly young. She felt the weight of too much responsibility on such small shoulders. But what else could she do? What choice did she have? This was Quinn.
Rachel lifted her head, looking Judy Fabray straight in the eyes.
Day had turned to night by the time they made it back to Lima. Quinn ordered take out from P.F. Chang's. But, sitting on the couch in the church, neither felt much like eating, both pushing the food around on their plates.
Quinn leaned forward, setting her plate on the coffee table. She stayed in the position, elbows on her knees, head bowed forward, blonde hair curtaining around her as she lost herself in her thoughts. A hand went to the gold chain wrapped around her neck, fingers clasping around the tiny gold cross. It seemed a contradiction, a religious vampire, but many vampires were, including Quinn.
Rachel set her own plate on the table. She leaned back, folding her feet beneath her as she leaned back on the couch. Her fingers drifted surreptitiously to the scar on her neck, nothing more than barely there bumps. The sensations she felt as her fingers drifted over the skin were nothing more than phantoms, lingering memories.
"It's gone," Quinn said softly.
Quinn lifted her head, turned it slightly towards Rachel. "My saliva. It's worked its way out of your system," she paused, turned her head back forward and down. "You're free of me."
Rachel pursed her lips at the loss. She couldn't count the times thought of this exact day, the day the vampire saliva in her system was no more and she no longer had to fear being at the whim of any and every vampire that crossed her path. She hadn't really thought much of the other part, being separated from Quinn. There'd been a visceral thrill at being so deeply connected. Another connection between them. And now one of them was gone. If one could be severed, could the other?
"Did you see them?" Quinn asked, drawing the tip of her cross back and forth over her lips. "My parents?"
"Yeah," Rachel answered solemnly.
"I don't wanna be like that, Rachel. I'd rather be dead.." she turned towards Rachel, and Rachel could see Quinn was crying. "If I die, don't let them bring me back. Burn my body, cut it up into a million pieces.."
"Hey," Rachel scooted towards Quinn, wrapping her arms around Quinn's shoulders and pulling the blonde to her. "You've got a long way to go before you think about that stuff."
"No, I don't." Quinn shook her head into Rachel's shoulder. "Neither do you. It could happen tomorrow for all we know. I don't want to die. I don't want to be undead."
Quinn's biggest fear, laid out open, bare and bleeding between them. In that moment, Rachel understood why vampires, Quinn in particular, were so religious. The soul. No other being had such a contradictory relationship with the soul. Witches, werewolves, humans and all other Inderlanders, they were born, lived with and died with their souls. Vampires lived long lives, the majority of it after they'd lost their soul. Living off the living to get back the one thing they truly covet, even if they no longer remembered what having a soul felt like.
Rachel held Quinn, let her mourn the loss of something she still had because she wouldn't mourn after she'd lost it. Soon, the sobs subsided to sniffles. Quinn leaned back a little, faces inches from each other.
"You're a witch," Quinn sniffled, lower lip straining as she tried to keep it from trembling. "Is there, like, a spell or something. A spell to help me keep my soul?"
"I.. I don't know," Rachel said, all she had to offer. Quinn nodded, head already bowing in defeat. Rachel brought her hands up, cupping Quinn's cheeks, lifting Quinn's face until their eyes met again. "If there is, we'll find it. Together."
Quinn smiled, weakly but genuinely, and Rachel could see the weight lifting off Quinn's shoulders. Together. No other word sounded so right, so perfect. Because that's what they were - together. Rachel didn't know the future, or what it held for either of them. She just knew they were stronger, no, she was stronger when Quinn was with her. The vampire saliva was gone but Quinn was still inside Rachel.
Rachel leaned forward, gently brushing her lips against Quinn's. What was meant to be chaste and quick lingered. The kiss lingered and heartbeats raced, breathing labored, body temperatures rose. And Rachel was straddling Quinn's hips, threading her fingers into Quinn's hair as she pushed Quinn back, trembling at the feel of Quinn's hands on her thighs sliding ever higher.
The pull within Rachel was different. Before, when she had the scar and Quinn's saliva pumping through her system, it was like the 'do/don't want' force of two magnets being wrenched apart. Now, Rachel was the force pushing the magnets together. Her choice and her choice only. Which seemed to make all the difference in the world. She still tingled and ached and throbbed at Quinn's touch, in all the ways that seemed right.
When Quinn's breath hitched and her lips parted slightly, Rachel pushed forward, deepening the kiss. She brushed her tongue against opened lips, felt the smoothness of Quinn's teeth, the shifting of extending fangs.
Quinn stiffened, pulled her head back, breaking the kiss. "Rachel!" she said with irises wide and dilated, shrinking hazel. "Stop!"
"But," Rachel ducked back in only to have Quinn turn her lips away. "I want to kiss you."
"You can't. It's dangerous," Quinn inhaled, trying to regain some semblance of control. "I'm dangerous."
"I trust you."
"Maybe," Rachel paused, leaning back in to brush her lips once more across Quinn's. "Because you don't trust yourself."
Rachel straightened her back. She tilted her head then a wide smile spread on her face. Sliding off Quinn's lap, she rose to her feet, extending a hand to Quinn. "C'mon," she said, wiggling her fingers.
"Where are we going?" Quinn asked, already reaching out and clasping her hand around Rachel's.
"I think you have an idea."
Uncertain, still feeling as if she were on the verge of losing control, Quinn stood as far from Rachel as possible, back practically to the wall, as Rachel slowly peeled out of her clothes and Quinn, despite feeling as she were on the verge of losing control, followed.
Her eyes like predator on its prey, Quinn watched as Rachel walked towards the bed, drew back the covers then slid onto the mattress. She rolled onto her back, all olive toned skin, perfect breasts, perfect legs. Perfect everything.
"What are you waiting for?" Rachel asked, her voice snapping Quinn from her haze.
Quinn walked towards the edge of the bed, down by Rachel's feet. And Rachel opened her legs just a little, just enough. Quinn swallowed the rising growl rumbling up her throat. "I could hurt you."
"You won't. Besides," she said with a half grin. "You know I can stop you if you try."
Which was enough to get Quinn lowering herself onto the mattress, crawling panther-like over Rachel. Until they were face to face and Quinn hovered, her body trembling as the fear stayed her movements. "Rachel," she whispered.
Rachel reached up with her hand, cradling Quinn's jaw. With her thumb, she ran the pad of it over Quinn's lips. When Quinn's lips parted, Rachel brushed her thumb tip against the exposed teeth, intentionally grazing it against the side of a fang, feeling the hitch of Quinn's breath, the heavy thud of her heart, watching her irises dilate wider. How her entire body strained and trembled, a rubber band pulled taut and trying not to snap.
Rachel lifted her head up, lips replacing thumb, and gently kissed Quinn before settling her head back onto the pillow. "I trust you, Ivy."
Quinn shuddered at the sound of her name, her true name. She'd never heard her name spoken by a non-vampire before. By Rachel. The rubber band pulled taut finally snapped. Quinn snapped. But, instead of the one thing she truly feared the most, losing control, Quinn had never felt in more control in all her life.
Rachel shuddered at the growl rumbling unrestrained up Quinn's throat. She swallowed hard when Quinn suddenly grabbed both her wrists, pulled them up by Rachel's head and pinned them to the mattress. She shivered as Quinn slowly, stalkingly lowered her head and Rachel could see irises black as coal and not a sliver of hazel around them. She meant it when she said she trusted Quinn. It was those few holdouts within her, letting their voices known.
"Rachel," lips hovering, Quinn giggle-purred into Rachel's parted mouth. She'd felt and smelled Rachel's fear and was amazed at how much the fear, the automatic vamp aphrodisiac, didn't turn her on. Quinn never wanted the violence with the sex that seemed to so intertwined within her culture. It wasn't Rachel's fear that turned Quinn on. It was her trust. Quinn's control.
"Rachel," she repeated, face almost serious as she peered down into Rachel's eyes. "Do you trust me enough to offer your neck?"
Rachel's eyes went wide as her heart flip-flopped in her chest. She'd said the words. Now it was time to see if she truly meant them. Nodding slowly, Rachel closed her eyes, inhaled deeply then turned her head.
The growl that rumbled up Quinn's throat was enough to make Rachel's insides quiver, something clench deep within her pussy. The scar had faded to almost nothing, the saliva in her system nothing more than a distant memory but when Quinn drew her tongue along Rachel's pulse point, it was like before. A sudden strike of lightning that coursed through her entire being, flaring between her legs. Rachel gasped, twitching, back arching as her hips writhed. Lips joined tongue and Rachel swallowed at the feel of Quinn's teeth, the points playfully dragging over Rachel's artery.
With her lips, Quinn clamped onto the flesh of Rachel's neck. Rachel froze, body preparing for the bite even though she knew it wouldn't come. This was as much for Quinn as it was for Rachel, for Quinn to prove to herself that she could if she wanted but chose otherwise.
There was pressure. The feel of razor sharp points digging into soft flesh. And just when the pressure reached its apex, the point where skin would break and the blood would flow, the pressure was gone. Quinn's mouth was gone from Rachel's neck. Rachel exhaled a sigh of relief mixed with disappointment and her breath was hitching again as Quinn's lips wrapped around one of her nipples.
There were no longer hands pinning her wrists to the mattress and Rachel curled her hands, pulling the sheets into her fists as Quinn tormented her breasts. Lips, tongue, teeth, fingers. Quinn suckled on one nipple while she groped and tweaked the other, then switched, the switched back. And just when Rachel was beginning to wonder if someone could orgasm from nipple play alone, Quinn was descending. All suckling lips and exploring fingers and Rachel could only shiver and mewl in anticipation. Hands on her legs, spreading her open, lifting her thighs and pushing them upwards.
"Rachel," Quinn purred, low and throaty, possessively. "Look at me."
Rachel licked her lips, opening her eyes as she lifted her head and peered down through the valley of her breasts. Quinn gazed up at her with hooded eyes and lascivious grin. "Mine," she growled then lowered.
With opened lips and the tip of her nose, Quinn nuzzled against Rachel's pussy then inhaled deeply. Rachel gasped and arched, quivering with each deep inhale as Quinn pulled Rachel's scent into her. The mixing of scents. Mine, Quinn's words echoed in Rachel's head.
Quinn inhaled and hungry-dog chuffed into Rachel's sex. Rachel finally did reach down, threading her fingers into Quinn's hair, nails softly scraping. "Quinn," she husked. "Please."
Another growl from Quinn, another shiver from Rachel, and Quinn clamped her mouth onto Rachel's sex. Quinn's eyes fluttered as she circled her tongue around Rachel's opening, at the scent and taste filling her mouth. She could have taken it. Easily. But force could never compare to trust, to something given as opposed to forcibly taken. Nothing could compare.
Rachel cried out at the sudden and quick penetration, Quinn's tongue slithering, sliding, jamming into her. Writhing, rolling her hips in a jutting chaotic rhythm, Rachel tightened the hand fisting Quinn's hair. Looking down, Rachel opened her second-sight, watched as the golden light of her aura danced down her arm, the wisps of glowing red that rose around Quinn, the places where they merged, like salt and fresh water colliding together, mixing into something new.
Rachel shivered and she watched her aura ripple outwards. It radiated over and into Quinn. Quinn shuddered, eyes fluttering, as she groan-growled into Rachel's sex.
Quinn withdrew her tongue, swiped the entire length of Rachel's pussy just to watch Rachel quiver. She lifted her head, just enough to show kiss swollen lips and stained chin. Then, Quinn quickly descended, hungrily wrapping her lips around Rachel's clit, two fingers pushed deep into her cunt.
A deep, guttural wail erupted from Rachel's throat. One hand still clutching Quinn's hair, the other flailing about the mattress for purchase because all Rachel could do was hold on. Hold on as Quinn licked and sucked and finger fucked her, as the magic within her bubbled and churned and boiled. The lid thick and heavy, and everything tightly contained within built until the only thing left was release.
The only thing left for Rachel to do was explode. And it was better than the times before. No fear. No anxieties. No doubts. Nothing to hold either of them back. Rachel came, strangled cry erupting from her throat, body convulsing and jerking. Until she had nothing more to give, a boneless and quivering mass on the bed. Quinn still between her legs, still lapping and sucking and fingers sliding, not stopping until she'd had her fill.
Had her fill.
Before Rachel could think of catching her breath, attempting some form of recovery, Quinn was clambering back up Rachel's body. Hands to Rachel's, instead of pinning them by the wrists, Quinn thread their fingers together. She shifted, straddling Rachel's thigh and Rachel shivered in understanding, lifting her leg, watching Quinn's mouth go slack, brows crinkling as muscled thigh met wet heat.
Quinn mewled at the contact, back already curling, hips already rolling, arcing. The pace quick and hard, a grunted whimper forcibly exhaled with each jutted thrust of her hips.
Rachel slipped a hand out from under Quinn's. Felt every muscle twitch and strain as she placed her hand at the base of Quinn's spine then slowly traced her fingers upwards. Rachel draped her thigh over Quinn's hip and Quinn shift a little, enough, another growl as her thigh rubbed hard against Rachel's still wet and aching pussy.
Quinn pressed her weight down, chest to chest, nipples and breasts rubbing against each other as they writhed. Rachel felt every breath of Quinn's hard and labored breathing against her neck. And Quinn wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to.. just sink her teeth into Rachel's flesh, pierce the artery she could feel throbbing just millimeters from her mouth.
The rush of orgasm thundered towards her like a runaway train. Quinn pulled her face from Rachel's neck, throwing her head back and howling as her fangs extended fully, completely. Then, Quinn dove her head forward, missing Rachel's neck by inches, teeth sinking into the pillow. She convulsed and growled and wriggled, riding every heated wave that seared her insides, twitched her muscles and clenched her pussy. Quinn came, rode the wave until she had nothing left to give, collapsing atop Rachel.
Their bodies still, nothing but randomly twitching muscles and labored breathing panted into the other's ear. The world still distant around them. Rachel slid her hands up Quinn's back, felt the twitching in Quinn's ribs, the spasming of her lungs. Quinn was crying.
"Quinn," she whispered gently.
Quinn lifted her head enough to meet Rachel's gaze. Her irises were still fully dilated, fangs still extended, the expression painting her face so very human - confused amazement. "Is it supposed to feel like this?"
"I don't know," Rachel admitted. "I've never done it with anyone else." Quinn blinked, the insecurity creeping all over her face. Rachel reached up, fingertips brushing Quinn's cheeks. "I don't wanna do it with anyone but you."
"How can you be so sure?" Her eyes darted about Rachel's face, searching for some hidden truth. "Why aren't you afraid?"
Rachel smiled softly. "Why do you want me to be? With so much out there to be scared of, why do I need to be frightened of you too?"
"Rachel," Quinn sighed, placing the side of her forehead to Rachel's temple. She'd learned long ago it was better to push what you cared for away than to hold on and watch them leave. Quinn had gotten very accustomed to pushing, she wasn't used to holding on. She wasn't used to being held on to.
"Hey," Rachel said, breaking Quinn from her doubting thoughts. "We have the rest of our lives to worry about the future. Can we just.. concentrate on tonight. Right now," she paused, sheepishly grinning. "And how much that little growl thing you do turns me on?"
"Oh," Quinn allowed the smile to stretch her lips. Rachel was right, they had the rest of their lives to worry about the future. She shifting, thigh finding Rachel's heat and grinding. "I'm very aware of how much that little growl thing turns you on."
ONE MONTH LATER
No matter how many times Rachel saw it, it always took her breath away.
Quinn stood on the third story of the ten-story building. It was still under construction, still nothing more than a giant, metal skeleton of steel beams, cement floors and scaffolding. Quinn walked to the edge. Her black, leather coat flapped behind her from the strong breeze. She walked towards the edge and..
Quinn landed ten paces from Rachel, who merely folded her arms over her chest and tilted her hips. "Okay, now you're just showing off."
"I'll stop showing off," Quinn said, stalking predatorily towards her girlfriend. "When you stop being impressed."
"I'm not impressed."
"Aren't you?" Quinn wrapped her arms around Rachel's waist, pulling her close. Tilting her head, nose at the base of Rachel's ear, Quinn inhaled deeply. "Your scent says differently."
"Ew," Rachel giggled despite herself. "You know I find that totally creepy."
"Your scent says differently."
Quinn dove in for a kiss, Rachel raised her hands, fingers to Quinn's lips to stop her. "Why are we here?" she asked as Quinn pulled back. "Here, of all places?"
"Oh," Quinn said, growing desire suddenly deflating. She stepped back from Rachel, hand sliding down Rachel's forearm then threading their fingers together. Quinn walked and Rachel followed, Rachel quelling the urge to ask Quinn a billion questions all at once. They walked along the grounds of the construction site. It'd been months since Rachel had last been there, a night she'd tried desperately to forget. But the dread within her rose as Quinn walked her to an all to familiar spot.
The pile of broken cement blocks, split wood and tangled rebar had long been removed, nothing now but an empty expanse of flat concrete.
"Why'd you bring me here?" Rachel asked.
Eyes glued to the ground before her, Quinn's face twitched minutely. "I almost died that night.."
"No, let me finish. I would have died, too. I mean, became undead. My Dad was going to take me straight to Piscary. But my Mom stopped him. Fed me enough so I could heal. I don't remember much, just how.. angry Piscary was when he realized I'd live. That he'd have to wait a little longer before he could have me.."
Head bowing, Rachel's lower lip began to tremble as she felt the weight of that particular guilt crushing down on her. It'd been her fault Quinn had almost died. Now that she had Quinn, realizing what she'd almost lost made the guilt worse.
"Rachel, no.." Quinn turned towards her, pulling her close and brushing the tear trailing down Rachel's cheek with a thumb. "I don't hate you and you need to stop hating yourself. I brought you here to thank you. If you hadn't.."
"Almost killed you!" Rachel blurted back.
"Yes, if you hadn't almost killed me," she paused, inhaling to find the right words to alleviate Rachel's guilt. "I want to live. I've always wanted to live. If I hadn't almost died, I never would have realized how much. If I hadn't almost died, Piscary would have waited, until my mother was as undead as my father. When I would have been too withdrawn to even think of fighting." She cupped Rachel's face, lifting until their eyes met. "You saved me, Rachel. You gave me back my mother, even if it's just for a little while. You made me remember why I want to live. Gave me a reason worth fighting for. You've given me hope."
"Quinn," Rachel swallowed. This was too much, too big and heavy to all be placed on her shoulders. But, the weight was hers. To push it away would mean pushing Quinn away. Rachel was strong, just not that strong. She could never push Quinn away. Chuckling softly, she lowered her head.
"What?" Quinn asked.
"I thought you were going to ask me to Prom."
"Oh," Quinn stiffened, taking a step back.
Rachel stiffened at Quinn's reaction. She was not expecting that. "What?"
Quinn shrugged. "I thought you were going to ask me to Prom."
"Why do I have to ask you?"
"Why do I have to ask you?" Quinn snapped back.
"You are the one who wears the pants in this relationship."
"That's not very feminist of you." Quinn folded her arms over her chest. "Heteronormative and sexist. Why can't the girl who wears the pants also want the dress and corsage?"
"Quinn," Rachel whined. Her shoulders sagged at the realization they really were arguing over who was supposed to ask who to Prom. "Can't we go back to the inappropriate sniffing and almost making out?"
"Fine," Quinn narrowed her eyes, Cheshire-cat grinning. "After you ask me to Prom."
Rachel visibly winced, realizing too late she'd walked right into that one. And Rachel could only chuckle. Rachel stepped towards Quinn, all demurely coquettish. Fingers on the lapels of Quinn's trench coat, Rachel stood on tip-toe as she leaned into Quinn, ran the tip of her nose along the line of Quinn's pulse point. She exhaled through her nose, breath warm and wet on Quinn's neck, then inhaled just as deeply, feeling Quinn shudder, as her eyes dilated slightly and her fangs extended minutely. It was why they worked so well together. Quinn had Rachel wrapped around her little finger. And Rachel..
"Ivy," she purred against the shell of Quinn's ear, one hand sliding down Quinn's chest, feeling the taut stomach muscles tremble at her touch. "Will you go to Prom with me?"
Rachel had Quinn wrapped around her little finger.
"I hate you," Quinn husked with a smile, eyes fluttering closed.
Somehow, Rachel didn't quite understand, it worked. Maybe it worked because they were so different. Maybe it worked because they were so alike. Give and take, up and down, yin and yang, either way, they were better together. Stronger. Equal and complete.
Neither would have it any other way.
Return to The Hollows Fiction
Return to Glee Fiction
Return to Main Page