Nightfall

Story: Nightfall
Storylink: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7218649/1/
Category: Glee
Author: Angel's Fallen Knight
Last updated: 07/23/2012
Words: 268172
Status: In Progress
Content: Chapter 1 to 24 of 24 chapters
Source: FanFiction.net

Summary: Werewolf!Quinn. In the dead of night she stumbles across her, crying at the swings, and everything inside her
tells her to go help, but the fur could be a problem.
*Chapter 1*: Nightfall
She can smell her. She can smell her and it's fucking killing her. It's hard enough at school to deal with it, to have that
smell lingering in the back of her nostrils like a bad smell that's really not that bad a smell, but a terrific smell that acts like
a high dose of Viagra. But now she has to deal with it while she was just having a stroll through town?

Well, stroll is hardly what she would call it. She's prowling in the bushes behind a row of houses, hiding in and amongst the
shadows to keep herself hidden while she searches for prey. She doesn't eat them, exactly; it's just good to work out the
kinks and just hunt.

But when that smell is there, fucking haunting her, it kind of puts her off her stride. She's just set her eyes on a rather fluffy
white rabbit, its ears pointed, eyes wide as it stares back at her. It hasn't run, which is weird in itself, because what
wouldn't run when staring at wolf?

Eyes trained, ears pricked, picking up the minute sounds of it's tiny feet rustling against the leaves just in case it was
planning to run, she's just about ready to lunge, back legs bent, back tensed when she smells it.

She crashes head first into nothing, the rabbit already thumping its way into some undergrowth. She whimpers, but not
from the pain of her thick skull impacting with the ground, but from the fact that she's missed a particularly good catch.

And that smell is back, and for more than enough times she'd care to count, she hates the fact that her sense of smell is
particularly fantastic. Its there, just niggling away, and before she knows it, she's prowling again, sniffing the air, trying to
pinpoint it.
Its only when she comes out from behind the houses, still hidden in the shadows, that she realizes she has to pass a road
to continue following the trail. She's half tempted to just switch back into her normal form, but feeling your bones crack
back into place and then having to walk around in your birthday suit isn't particularly appealing.

It's a 50/50 choice. One choice, dash across the street and hope she doesn't get seen. Second choice, forget that damn
aphrodisiac and get the hell back home. It was already two am, and although her parents know she's out hunting, her
father doesn't like her being out so late.
But fuck it, she's already dashing across the road and into some shrubbery, what harm can it do?

The smell is stronger now, so fucking strong her hind legs feel like they're going to collapse beneath her. But she keeps
going, nose to floor, just smelling, following that trail that begs to be followed.

In the haze of it all, she finally realizes where she's going, and it's only when she comes face to face with the steel wire
fence of the park, she knows. Her nose nudges the wire, and she's half tempted to just chomp through it in hopes of
getting through, so she does.
Mouth wide, teeth bared, she suddenly stops. Her golden hazel eyes narrow in like tunnel vision. There, swinging, alone,
on a swing set is Rachel Berry. She's just sat there, in a pair of sweatpants and some weird tank top that has the letter R
bedazzled on the front. It's an eye sore, but when she realizes that Rachel is, in fact, crying, she just...stops.

Her backside immediately hits the ground and she just watches as Rachel lamely rocks herself on that one swing, chains
slightly rusted, seat worn from use, just staring at her feet.

She looks so dejected and hurt, that she feels a whine escape her throat. If Rachel hurts, she hurts; it's always been that
way, ever since they first met.

Her heart just hurts, and she does let the whine escape when one of Rachel's hands move up to brush a tear that's trekked
its way down her tan cheek. She wants so badly to be there as a shoulder to cry on, but that would hardly keep up
appearances at school.
The Quinn Fabray at school couldn't give two shits about anyone that isn't her or Cheerleading; that's the way that people
perceive her to be. They just don't realize that Glee, and her parents, and her friends, and Rachel mean more to her than if
she's popular or not. People just don't tend to want to see that side of the picture, so she just keeps it hidden and locked
away.
But this. This just pure fucking hurts. So she just watches, and from what she can tell, it's already past two thirty in the
morning, and it really isn't safe for a girl to be out this late without anyone with her.
So she gnaws through that steel fence, molars chewing for a second before spitting out again. She feels the cuts to her
gums, but they hardly register, because her mind is so adamantly fixed on the girl only a few yards away. She licks her
chops when the deed is done and the hole is big enough to finally fit through. Its only then she realizes that she's taken out
one large section of the fence and maybe she should have just climbed over it instead, but whatever.
She's already through, and Rachel's still sat there. So hesitantly, slowly, trying not to fucking prowl because she knows
Rachel will run, she heads toward the girl, keeping her eyes locked on that tiny body.
Nothing clich happens like stepping on a twig and Rachel's head snapping up; in fact, she makes it until she's standing
about ten yards away from the girl before she realizes there's someone, or something else, there with her.

Rachel's eyes slowly look up from her feet and lock on Quinn, who's just stood there, one leg poised forward, mid step.
The singer blinks, then all of a sudden she's yelping, falling backwards off the swing, and kicking at the dirt desperately to
try and push herself backwards. Brown hair tousled over fear filled eyes, they remain locked on the wolf before her.
Then Quinn lowers herself, parks her rear end right on the ground and just sits there.

Rachel, still gasping for air that her lungs desperately needs, just stares right back, feet planted on the ground, knees up,
leaning back on her hands.

"You're a big dog."

Quinn huffs out a laugh, its mostly just a loud expel of air from her nose, but it seems to make Rachel calm just a tad.
Hesitantly, the girl sits up and braces her hands by her sides, just in case she has to get up in a hurry and save her ass
from being eaten.

"Did you just..." Quinn watches as Rachel's throat bobs gently, "Can you understand me?"
Quinn says nothing; the last thing Rachel needs is to go into school and start ranting about a big dog slash wolf that could
understand what she was saying. They'd lock her up and then what chance would she have at getting her end in? Then
again, at least she wouldn't be able to smell her. Like she could right now, and god damn was it intoxicating.

She can't even describe the smell. It's not just a normal smell that any human can smell; its not the perfume that Rachel
wears everyday, or the smell of her shampoo, its something feral, something imprinted on a person when they're born.

She can smell it. Only she can smell it, and fuck its heavenly.

Rachel's just watching her, still with her defences up, so in a small gesture, she pads out her front legs and lays down,
head resting on her paws. Her fur tickles her snout, but she could care less as Rachel finally sits up fully, arms wrapping
around her knees.

"You won't hurt me, will you?"

Quinn just blinks, content to listen to Rachel's voice. She hears it enough at school, but out of school, something about
Rachel completely changes. Her voice doesn't carry that authority (maybe its because she's scared to death?) and she
just seems to go with the flow instead of diving head first into every situation she could get her hands on.

"You're too big to be a dog," The singer states, leaning her chest forward on her knees, "Are there wolves in Lima?" She
seems to contemplate it, and then she just laughs, a loud bark that even make Quinn's ears flatten against her skull, "I'm
talking to a wolf. I should be committed."
The wolf snorts again, a small puff of dust lifting off the ground and drifting into the breeze at the action. Rachel watches it
until the dust just disappears into nothingness before her eyes pin the dark golden wolf before her.
The singer sniffles and then climbs to her feet, keeping her eyes on the wolf to make sure it doesn't make any sudden
movements.
"I...should head home." Then slowly, she steps back, small, cautious steps, "Stay." She orders gently, and Quinn doesn't
move, no matter how much she wants to get up and just lunge.

Rachel doesn't turn around until she's at the park gates; she bumps into a slide, trips over the edge of a sandbox and
almost collapses over a fence, just because she keeps her eyes trained on that wolf that refuses to move.
When she's gone, Quinn waits until she can't smell Rachel anymore, then decides she's had enough for one night and
heads home.

Santana and Brittany, contrary to popular belief, were not werewolves. They didn't even know she was a werewolf. Nor did
she want to tell them. They were the biggest snitches in school and asking Santana or Brittany to keep a secret was like
asking them to abstain from sex. It just didn't happen.
No one else at McKinley was a werewolf either. At first she thought Puck might have been one, but that dominant
arrogance was just something he was born with, not the fact that he might have the blood of an Alpha.
She was the only werewolf at McKinley, and only a handful of people in Lima were actually wolves themselves. Some
descended from them, but weren't one, others descended and could turn into one. But then again, it was only a handful,
around eight or nine, and three of them were the Fabray family. Four if you counted Frannie, but she lived in Boston, so it
hardly fit into the Lima category.
It was difficult, she wasn't going to lie; of course she could talk to her parents about it, but they hardly understood what it
was like going to a school where she was the only wolf. It wasn't as if she could talk to anyone about it at school, whereas
Russell and Judy Fabray had gone to the same school and bonded from it.
Quinn had no one to bond with, and it left her with a certain sense of loneliness. She had half the school as friends, but not
one of them that she could really relate to. It sucked. So she had to deal with all the scents by herself, without being able to
turn to someone and ask if they were going through the same thing. She had to deal with those primal urges that
sometimes were too much to bare and she had to just go and sit in her car for an hour or so just to calm down.

But over the years she just learnt to deal with it; it came with the territory. She dealt with the urges, the need to hunt, the
smells, all by herself. But then when everything with Rachel went off like a bomb in her face, she had no choice but to go to
her parents for advice.

"Mom, dad? I need to talk to you both."

Russell adjusts his tie against his shirt as he sits, Judy sitting primly beside him. They both don't look worried, nor did
they have to be; they were linked to their daughter, they could tell what she was thinking, so before she even has the
chance to open her mouth, Russell raises his hand for her to be quiet.
"You're pulling towards someone at school, aren't you?"

Judy's eyes snap to her husband, and then back to her daughter, who sits before her, hands clutched tightly in her lap,
almost shaking from the force of the grip.
"Yeah. It's...getting difficult to handle it." She drifts off and sighs, eyes falling to her hands, "I need your advice. I need
help with this."
"We'll help you. You are our daughter after all," She looks up fast enough to see her father smiling at her, "But so help
me God if it's Finn Hudson..."
Judy all but chortles and Quinn's jaw drops, "What's wrong with Finn?"
"He's a moron, Quinnie. Can you imagine how he would deal with the fact that you were a werewolf?" At Quinn's cringe,
Judy laughs, "So who is it? I'm trying to hear what you're thinking but..." She looks to her husband, "Can you?"
Russell shakes his head, "No. You're clouding the thought up for some reason." He chastises his daughter and leans
back in his seat, "Let me listen, Quinn."
They listen. They listen to every last thought, every sweet, wicked and downright dirty thought that she had for one
Rachel Berry. She bites her lip, eyes shooting between the two of them before Russell clears his throat.
"Have you been watching porn? Because that sounded something straight out of a porn movie."

"Oh my God, dad!" Quinn exclaims, slumping down in her seat, chin burrowed against her chest, all but trying to
disguise the deep blush on her cheeks.
Russell chuckles, "Go check, dear." He tells his wife, barely glancing at her before turning his attention back to his
daughter, "I'll talk to Quinn about the urges and you can take over with the more...intimate side of it."
Quinn groans, "The sex talk, werewolf style? I'm going to die."

All in all, they were oddly accepting at the fact that she had the urge with a girl. Apparently, although they were a Christian
family, the history and needs of their werewolf genes came first. It didn't matter if a werewolf was attracted to another
female, it was natural; a common occurrence.
The fact her dad had been so cool about it though, freaked her the hell out. The talk they had however, had been so
disgustingly embarrassing, that she felt like dissolving into her seat. But she had to be told, she had to sit there and listen
to it because urges were something that had to be tamed, controlled, taken care of.

When a werewolf gets an urge, it's all it thinks about until that urge is given into. The longer its withheld, the stronger it
gets, the more primal it gets. Then the scents come into play; you can smell the person you have an urge for, smell their
every scent and it acts as an aphrodisiac to a wolf. Then there comes a time when a wolf just snaps and acts on their
urge.
It happens a lot more than people think; and the daily lessons she gets from her father to deal with them, helps a hell of a
fucking lot.
Hence why she can sit next to Rachel in Glee Club and not be effected one bit. On the outside of course. Because on the
inside it's like World War III and her urges want to win, but she keeps fighting and forcing them down until they raise their
hands in defeat. The smell...well of course its hard to deal with, and sometimes she has to stop herself when she cranes
her neck, feigning a neck ache just to get that much closer to Rachel's neck.

But she doesn't have that urge today, because what she saw only hours ago in the middle of a hazy morning light
disturbed her. Why was Rachel Berry in the middle of a park, crying to herself and now seemed to be fine and dandy,
hanging off Finn's every word as he talked about Halo or some other shit?
It pisses her off that she doesn't know what was going on it that brunette's head, and she just wishes she could hear what
she was thinking; but that only happens between strong werewolf bonds, and unless Rachel had somehow become a
werewolf overnight, it totally wasn't happening.

So she just sits, staring down at the book in her lap, not really reading it while she covertly looks at Rachel from time to
time, just to sense some sort of change. There was nothing all Glee session, it just remained the same, even when Rachel
got up to sing a solo, when they did a group number and when they all sat down together to talk about songs for Nationals.
But when Mr. Schue calls time on the session and tells everyone they were free to go home, Quinn's eye twitches when
Rachel's scent suddenly becomes bold, so much so it makes Quinn rocket from her seat. It smelt...so good...
Rachel glances at her, then smiles softly before raising from her own seat, grabbing her bag and following Finn out of the
room.
Something was wrong; it wasn't a good smell for a human. Sure, it was good for a wolf, because Jesus Christ, its like food
to someone like her. But that smell, for a human, is just pure unadulterated fear.

She catches the damn rabbit this time and she enjoys the way its neck snaps in her mouth as she clamps her teeth down
on it. She doesn't eat it, although it does taste good; but like always, she kills it, leaves it on the ground and walks away. Its
good to just hunt and kill, not always eat. Last time she ate something on a hunt, when she'd reverted back to a human she
couldn't get the taste out of her mouth for days even after going through two tubes of toothpaste and a bottle and a half of
mouthwash.

Her home is calling her, and its already one in the morning; late night hunting did wonders for insomnia. But as she turns to
go back home, she smells it again. Not the kill at her feet, but Rachel. She smells her again; she's close by.

She follows the trail, snout to the floor, snuffing the dirt as she walks. She comes to the same part of road again and she
doesn't think twice about dashing over it and into shrubbery to hide herself.

The gaping hole she'd made the night before is still there, and so is Rachel, in the same position. It's eerily similar, and
she feels as if she's replaying last night over again. This time she alerts Rachel instead of sneaking up to the poor girl; she
doesn't want to scare her so much she falls off the swing again.
Rachel's head snaps up when she hears a low bark, her eyes soften but her body remains stiff, ready to bolt at the first
sign of trouble. Brown eyes track the golden wolf's movements carefully, watching as each heavy paw presses to the
ground with each step, the way those golden hazel eyes just lock on hers, never faltering, never wavering. It's oddly
comforting.
Quinn parks her rump in front of Rachel, a good ten yards away, and just stares.

"You're back, I see?" Rachel smiles, eyes still watering. "Don't you have a family to go home to?"
Rachel watches as the wolf's ears twitch back and forth quickly, and she chuckles, fighting back a sob, "I'm sure they miss
you."
Quinn knows that her mother and father miss her; she can hear them faintly in the back of her mind. She can cut their
voices out completely, but it's always nice just to know they're there, safe and sound.
"Why aren't you attacking me?" Is suddenly asked, and Quinn snorts at the question, "I know you probably can't
understand me but aren't wolves usually violent animals?" Quinn's ears twitch again, "Or is it because you don't see me as
a threat?"

And just like deja vu, Quinn's front legs stamp out slowly and she lays down, head resting on her paws.
They sit there, in silence, together, just listening to the odd car pass in the street, or the sound of the wind rustling through
the trees. Quinn doesn't know how much time passes until she happens to glance at Rachel's watch. Three thirty in the
morning.

"I should go," Rachel whispers, voice raw. She doesn't say anything else, she just rises from the swing, and walks away.
She glances over her shoulder a couple times, which is understandable.

There is a fucking wolf sat there after all.

"How is it going?" Judy asks as she places a heaving plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, hash browns and chopped
tomatoes in front of her daughter and husband. Russell smiles and closes his newspaper, pressing a gentle kiss to her
temple before digging in.
Quinn just shrugs, mouth too busy chomping on three rashers of bacon and half a hash brown. She's a pig at home; at
school she eats like she has a stick up her ass, all prim and proper with her salad, at home she can stuff her face and eat
just like her dad.

Screw society.
"Are the urges becoming harder to deal with?"

Quinn swallows in time to answer her father, "They're the same."

"So why are you hunting late at night then?" Judy asks over her cup of coffee, eyes silently judging her daughter, "Unless
you're dealing with urges?"
"I just want to perfect my technique." Quinn mumbles, shovelling a forkful of scrambled eggs into her mouth.

"Good," Russell praises, "I'm glad you're testing the waters." He takes a long gulp of his water, "But why are you out for
three hours a night doing it?"
Busted.
"I keep seeing Rachel."

Judy's eyebrow flicks up, eerily similar to her own, "In the middle of the night? Is she on her own?" At Quinn's nod, Judy
scoffs, "That's not safe at all. I should speak with Hiram and Leroy."

"No!" Quinn drops her knife and fork, sending them clattering to the plate, "Don't. I just...I keep catching her crying and then
she just sits there, and she lets me sit there with her."

"You let yourself be seen?" Russell asks, approving tone all but gone.
"She doesn't know it's me, dad. I just...it's cool that she isn't freaked out by me. But she just keeps crying and I don't know
what's wrong with her."
"Have you thought of asking her while you're at school? Talk to her as Quinn and not your wolf?"

Quinn shrugs her shoulders at her mom, "It's not that simple."
"And why not?"
With a sigh, the youngest Fabray grabs her knife and fork and just continues to eat, avoiding the question entirely.

She gets to school and hour later and she finds Rachel at her locker, Finn stuck to her side. They're talking, he's smiling,
she's smiling; it seems just like any other day. Quinn rushes past, holding her breath as she does, but when Finn calls out
to her, she lets it go; she can't really talk to him if she's blue in the face.

"Finn." She glances at Rachel, barely, "Berry."

"We're scheduling a Glee meeting for this lunch time. We were wondering if you could tell Brittany and Santana when you
see them?" Rachel asks, voice chirpy and excited, "Finn and I have written an excellent original song for Nationals."
Quinn just nods, feigning boredom, "Yeah. Sure."

"Awesome," Finn grins, "See you later, Quinn."

Quinn fights back a growl when Finn wraps his arm around Rachel's waist and leads her away, and barely holds it back
when Rachel's scent changes to pure happiness at being held.

The song is alright. Okay, it's great, and it probably will give them a fighting chance at Nationals, but the fact it's a duet,
wholly created for Rachel and Finn to sing, has her inner wolf just dying to rip out his throat.
Mr. Schue is over the moon, and the rest of the club is too, except for the given Kurt and Mercedes who are pissed that
they don't get a chance at a solo; but then again, why would they? Rachel is the strongest and most versatile singer in the
club.

They agree it'll be the opening number after a vote. Quinn is half tempted just to write 'I'll sing it with Rachel' over her slip of
paper, but instead puts yes. Handing it in feels like a death sentence for some reason.
When the bell goes during the after school Glee session, Quinn smells the shift in Rachel again. She exudes fear, and it
worries her, but before she can even ask, Rachel is already out the door.

She doesn't go out that night; mostly because she can't deal with it anymore. Two nights in a row, just staring at a sobbing
Rachel takes it's toll of a girl/wolf. It's not like she can say anything when she's a wolf either; she can't exactly dive into a
philosophical discussion about why Rachel is crying and how she's going to help.
Life isn't a fucking fairytale and things don't happen like that.

So instead, she rolls over and clings to her pillow, fighting with her body to just fall asleep. It's close to four in the morning
when her body finally gives in, and she doesn't give it a second thought at the fact that its when she usually gets in after
seeing Rachel.

Rachel's in her AP History class, and it's driving her crazy. The singer is nowhere near her; in fact, she's across the room,
right at the front of the class. She's right at the back, sat beside Santana who is just sat texting on her phone.
Mr. Collins, their teacher is off ranting about the Civil War, when Quinn gives into temptation. She nudges Santana, who
sends her a miffed off look before looking back at her phone. "What?"
"Have you noticed anything different about Ra-Berry?"

Santana's eyes slowly drift up to lock with Quinn's, "Why?"

"Just wondering. She seems a little off."

Santana smirks, "Frickin' charming. You starting to worry about her or something?"
Her wolf screams pride in caring about the brunette, but Quinn reigns it in, "No. I just don't want her to have a breakdown
and ruin our chances in New York. It's only two weeks away."
"I doubt she's going to have a breakdown," Santana pockets her phone and nods her head to Rachel, "She's fine. She's
scribbling down notes like a good little teacher's pet."
Quinn isn't so sure.

There's no Glee on Thursdays due to fact that Mr. Schue handles detention after school. Glee is cancelled, so she doesn't
see Rachel leave school. She hadn't seen her at all after History, and it was starting to worrying her.

She could usually sense if Rachel was nearby, or at least smell her, but there was nothing.
She corners Finn as he walks to his truck. He tells her Rachel went home, that she was sick. Quinn nods, but her wolf
rages. Something isn't right.

"If you wear a hole in the carpet, you're buying a new one." Russell comments from her bedroom door, arms crossed over
his chest. His hair is messy, and he's only in a baggy shirt and slacks; he'd been out hunting.
"Sorry, dad." She sits down on the edge of her bed and sighs.

"You're worried about Rachel Berry." Russell nods his head to himself, "Understandable, with the thoughts you're having
right now. What's wrong, exactly?"

"I don't know, that's the point." Quinn replies, "Every time she goes home, she exudes all this fear and for the life of me, I
can't understand why."

"Fear?" Her father asks, brow furrowing, "You think she's scared to go home?"
"I don't know, that's the feeling that I'm getting from it all." She pauses briefly, "Don't quote me on that though."

Russell nods, "Okay."

Two days later, Hiram and Leroy Berry greet her as she walks in the door. Her father who sits opposite them, looks up at
her with a soft smile.
"Uh. Hey."

"Leroy, Hiram. My daughter, Quinn." They both smile up at her, and Hiram even shoots up out of his seat to hug her.
"She's beautiful, Russ."
"All my genes."
Quinn snorts, "What about mom?"

"What about her?" Then he smirks and looks back to the two Berry men, "So as I was saying, I think it's beneficial that you
come over to dinner tomorrow evening."

Hiram glances at Leroy quickly, then shoves his glasses back up his nose, "I think we may be busy tomorrow evening.
Perhaps we could reschedule?"

Quinn wanders into the kitchen, glancing over her shoulder at her dad who just watches them, trying to somehow figure
them out.

They're lying. She hears as she grabs an orange from the fruit bowl.
With a sigh, she begins peeling, I know.

She's at the park before Rachel even arrives that night. She sits by the swings, amusing herself by trying to catch passing
small flies when the singer finally turns up.

Her ears twitch when she hears the singer close in, but she keeps her snout poised in the air, trying to feign indifference
as she snaps at the tiny buzzing creatures that pass by.

"I haven't seen you for a while." Rachel's voice sounds so raw as she sits down on the swing, stretching her legs out, so
close to Quinn's stamped down paws.

Quinn shakes, ears slapping against her skull. It makes Rachel giggle slightly, so it's a minor victory, but then her eyes
land on the tiny singer. She looks so small and frail. Its like she was looking at a shadow of a former Rachel Berry. It
scares her.
"I've...kind of missed you, is that stupid?"

Quinn melts.
"It is stupid," Rachel chuckles. clearly embarrassed, "You're a wolf and I've only seen you twice before, but somehow..."

Golden hazel eyes shoot over every inch of Rachel's exposed skin. Its only part of her neck and her hands, but there
doesn't seem to be anything there. From what her father had told her earlier on in the night, something was fishy about
Leroy and Hiram. They were acting weird, almost as if they were trying to put on a show; and it wasn't like anyone turned
down the opportunity to have a slap up meal at the Fabray household.

"I kind of feel safe with you."

Quinn rises off the floor and pads over to Rachel, not missing the way the girl's back straightened in reflex as she moves
closer. So Quinn just sits down and curls up at Rachel's feet, luxuriating in the way the singer's shoes dig into her stomach.
She's so close and it feels so good.

Quinn actually speaks to Rachel on Monday. Its a shock to say the least, and she can see that in Rachel's eyes when she
passes and offers a hey to the singer. Rachel's so shocked that Quinn is almost around the corner when she finally hears
a 'Hello!'
Its enough to make the day seem worth it.

Tuesday, she says hey with a slight raise of a hand as she passes Rachel by her locker. Rachel clutches her books so
close to her chest that Quinn's shocked they don't travel right through her body. She's almost down the hall when she
hears, 'Hello Quinn!' behind her.

Wednesday, Finn is with Rachel, so there's no hello. But when Quinn passes her after lunch, when Brittany and Santana
are off on one of their janitor closet trysts, Quinn eyes warm as she offers a quiet hello to Rachel in passing.
She doesn't get an hello in return this time, and she's sure it's because of the way she looked at the singer. It would shock
anyone into a coma.

On Thursday, Quinn is at her locker, grabbing her Chemistry book when Rachel passes behind her and then stops. "Hello,
Quinn."
The blonde turns, regards her and nods, "Hey Berry."
Rachel swallows in reflex, nods and then walks away.

To the people around them its a meaningless exchange, but to Quinn it means the world.

On Friday, she's in Glee Club when Rachel offers her another 'hello'. She's at the piano when Quinn walks in, and she
actually stops what she's doing to turn and smile at the blonde. It warms her insides and she swears she feels her wolf
almost purr at the sight.

So she smiles back and sits down next to Brittany and Santana.

Monday through to Friday, Rachel doesn't appear at the park on the night. She can smell the lingering scent of the
brunette as she sits at the swings and waits an hour, but she knows the singer has already been and gone.
As each night passes, she appears ten minutes earlier than usual. Each time, there's a lingering scent. But there's nothing
but a swing that rocks dejectedly in the breeze.
Saturday is entirely different though. Santana wants to hang out, and she does too, but her father promised to take the day
off work and go hunting together. As a family. Judy too, which hardly ever happens, so she tells her second in command
another time and goes out and hunts with her family.

It's a huge bonding experience, and when she watches her father, a silver, almost triple her size wolf dive for a deer on the
outskirts of Lima, she can't help but be an awe. Her father, while in his early fifties, still has the agility of a twenty year old
as a wolf.
In a way, she kind of wants to be like him when she grows up. She wants to be that strong, that proud, that courageous; be
the one who catches a deer with nothing but a simple lunge as her own child watches on with awe.
Light gold shimmers in her peripheral vision, and she turns her head to watch her mom, slightly smaller than she, return
with a hare in her mouth. It makes her smile; knowing that as a wolf, her mother can still go out and hunt. Her father
demands that Judy only do housework as a human; she's pinned down to the tribulations of a Christian man's wife, but as
a wolf, Russell allows her to do as she pleases. She can hunt just like her husband, she can get her snout in the dirt and
not have to worry about appearances. It's exhilarating.

She heads off into the woods to find her own catch, hoping to prove her hunting worthiness to her father.

They don't return until late Sunday night. And although she's been hunting all weekend, Quinn still goes out under the
pretence of hunting. Russell and Judy just agree and tell her not to wear herself out; that she has school in the morning, but
she knows that they know she's going out to see if Rachel is at the park.

Rachel is there. Knees to her chest, face buried in them. It aches Quinn as she jumps over the fence that's now been
replaced. She hurts her stomach as her hind legs kick her over it, but her eyes remain trained on Rachel.

There's no loud sobbing, only gentle sniffles as Quinn walks closer. She's shocked when she stops right beside the
singer, and she doesn't even notice. So she nudges the girl's arm with her snout, and almost gets a fist in her face when
Rachel jolts from her position.
"Are you trying to scare me?" Rachel asks through tears, "You almost give me a heart attack!"

She sounds so angry, and in reflex, Quinn steps back. Rachel's watery brown eyes finally lessen in intensity, and the anger
all but dissipates, "Just howl or something when you're nearby. You can do that right? You've done it before."

Rachel isn't wearing a jacket, and she's only in a tank and a pair of shorts. It's cold out, even for Quinn and she's covered
in thick fur. So she does the only think she can do. She sits down beside the singer and nudges herself close.

The brunette hesitates, but soon enough, her arms are wrapping around Quinn's neck. The wolf's nose is so close to
Rachel's neck; she's so close to nuzzling, and the urge to flick her tongue out just to taste that skin is so overwhelming that
it almost kills her.
They stay like that for going on an hour before the grip around Quinn's neck finally slackens, and Rachel's pulling away to
stand up. But before she does, she pats Quinn's head, and in reflex, Quinn licks Rachel's cheek, savouring the taste of her
tears on her tongue.
Rachel chuckles softly, "Is that your way of telling me I look horrible?" She asks before standing, patting the wolf's head
again and walking out of the park.
Quinn's tempted to follow, but by the time she's made up her mind, Rachel's scent is gone.

Only then is when she realizes that she doesn't even know where the singer lives.
Finn and Rachel aren't talking on Monday. Finn isn't at his girlfriend's locker when Quinn passes, so she shoots the
brunette a smile which is softly returned. It warms her until lunch when everything just goes to shit.

She's heading to the cafeteria, walking past the auditorium when she hears shouting, loud shouting, even for her ears.
When she pushes open the door, she sees Finn looming over Rachel in the center of the stage, who's stood with her arms
crossed defensively over her chest.
"Why did you break up with me? At least tell me that!"

"I have other things to deal with, Finn. I'm sorry if you don't agree with my decision but I'd rather concentrate and focus on
my own problems rather than listen to you rant about how the Xbox 360 is superior to the Playstation 3."

Quinn bites her bottom lip to fight back a growl when Finn steps closer to his gir- ex girlfriend.
"I love you, Rachel. Don't you get that?"

"And I love you," She replies with a defeated sigh, "But please don't make this anymore difficult than it already is."
Finn's fist clench, and Quinn feels every muscle in her body tense; just in case she has to lunge at the six foot giant. But
then Finn is shaking his head, "You can't come back from this, Rachel. We're done after this."
"We were done two days ago." Rachel drops her arms, "I'm so sorry, Finn. I'll always love you but..."

"Yeah. Problems." He lunges down and grabs his backpack, "I get it."
What shocks Quinn more is the fact that even though Rachel watches Finn leave, she doesn't even shed one tear.

Quinn corners Rachel outside in the parking lot before the singer has a chance to escape into her black Focus. Rachel's
eyes are wide when Quinn calls out to her, but stops none the less, throwing her bag into the back seat before slamming
the door shut.
"Quinn?"

"I heard about you and Finn," She says, coming to a stop before her, "Tough break." She has to sound indifferent. But it
comes off all wrong, and when Rachel frowns, she mentally kicks herself.

"Well he's all yours now, I suppose?" Rachel asks, not really wanting an answer, "You're free to have him."
"No, that's not what I-,"

"I have to go, Quinn. I'm expected at home."

The blonde actually slaps herself around the back of her head when Rachel's car is out of sight, and she doesn't really
care that two jocks stop and laugh at her as she does it.

"So it's not the boyfriend, then?" Judy asks at the dinner table, carving the lemon chicken in the center of the table.

"Nope." Quinn replies, mouth salivating at the chicken, "I mean, she didn't even cry. Every time I see her, she's crying."
"You said that she told Finn she was having problems?"

"Well, yeah..." She lingers, looking at her dad who pours a generous helping of peas and carrots onto his plate.
"Home problems?"

Judy piles chicken onto her husband's plate, "That would account to why Leroy and Hiram are acting so weird of late."
Quinn narrows her eyes in contemplation, stabbing the chicken with her fork when it finally arrives on her plate.

Leroy and Hiram Berry.

She doesn't go to the park. Straight after dinner, in fact, she goes to the Berry house with directions that her father had
given her. She goes as Quinn, not her wolf, because apparently she has to travel along busy roads to get to Rachel's
house that is way across the other side of town and almost five miles away from the park they met at every night.

Rachel walks five miles to the park, then another five back. Why walk a collective ten miles? Was she trying to get as far
away from her home as she possibly could or something?

So Quinn takes her dad's car and parks across the road and down six houses. The Berry's was number fifteen, so her
eyes remained trained on the pale blue door, just waiting for some sort of movement.
She's there for almost two hours until a car pulls into the driveway, a black Lexus, beside a silver Prius. Stark opposites if
she'd ever seen one. Leroy climbs out of the car, all five foot nine of him, pulling his briefcase along with him.
Quinn expects him to walk straight into the house, but he fumbles around in his jacket for a while before pulling something
out of one of the pockets. She narrows her eyes as she watches him slip his wedding ring back on his ring finger and
walks into the house.

"He's cheating on his husband." Quinn pushes her bangs back from her eyes and scoffs, "And Rachel knows."
No less than five minutes later, Rachel leaves the house, this time in baggy light blue jeans, long sleeved white linen shirt
and tennis shoes. She's down the drive when she glances back at the house, shakes head and then starts off in a run
down the street, away from Quinn and her car.

"Shit."
Quinn climbs out of the car and only just remembers to lock it with the electronic device on the key chain as she's running
down the road, trying to follow Rachel, but her scent, she can't smell it as well as she could if she was a wolf.
So she runs, trying to keep up, holding onto that lingering scent that rapidly disappearing. Only when she passes an
abandoned car factory that hadn't been used in years, does she stop. She glances from the road, to the factory and
makes a split second decision.

She climbs over the rickety wire fence and disappears into one of the empty warehouses. She waits around for a few
minutes, just making sure the place is deserted before clenching her muscles, squeezing her eyes shut and allowing her
wolf to make its appearance.
It doesn't hurt half a much as it did the first dozen times, but the discomfort is still there as she collapses to her hands and
knees, feeling her bones crack and break as her human body contorts into it's animalistic form.
Its intense, so much so that she feels she could faint from exhaustion as her body changes. Her body contorts, skin turns
abrasive and rough before the fur begins to finally appear. Her body morphs, her face twists and expands. That's what
hurts the most, because she can feel the almost unbearable pressure on her brain.

But she's managed to get it down to a tee. It took two hours her first transformation, now it only takes a minute at the most.
She huffs and howls as her body aligns itself into his wolf form. Then when her body finally relaxes, she takes one almighty
sniff and starts off in a run, dashing toward the back of the car lot and taking the back roads to follow Rachel's trail.
No doubt the police wouldn't think twice about shooting her if they saw a wolf in the open public streets.

Rachel isn't on the swings when she arrives, in fact, she's sat on the slide, right at the top, just waiting to slide down...or
not. Quinn waits, and watches, but Rachel just sits there, hands clutching the tiny slide as her legs extend down half of it.

It was made for children, and although Rachel is small, she isn't that small. Christ, she isn't a dwarf or anything, contrary to
what Santana said.

Rachel sees her before Quinn has time to react. Her ears prick up when she faintly hears, "Come here." So she does,
because suddenly she's so whipped and she can't refuse Rachel Berry a single thing.

She stops at the bottom of the slide, looking up at Rachel who just stares at her. It's unnerving, because suddenly, she
feels so naked, almost like she can't hide behind her fur anymore.

"You followed me here."

Quinn puts her front paws on the bottom of the slide, raising her upper body just that much more.

Rachel pulls out her phone, a bedazzled pink monstrosity, "It's only eight pm. You usually don't come here until after
midnight." Then she puts her phone away and sighs, "It's like you know when I need someone by my side."

Finn screams into Quinn's thoughts, and she's just confused; Finn could have been here, by her side, right? It doesn't
particularly make her happy, but Rachel did have someone by her side until she threw him out on his ear.
"A wolf..." Rachel suddenly sighs, "I'm not even worried that I'm talking to a wolf anymore. I should be, but I'm not." She
tucks a lock of brown hair behind her ear, "It's like you can understand everything I say."
She desperately wants to tell Rachel who she really is, but the thought of rejection just makes her want to run away, run far
away and never come back, never see the singer again, forget about her urges.
But she's climbing up the slide, feet skidding against the cheap plastic, and she knows she looks like a struggling
oversized rat or something, but she wants to be closer to Rachel. Needs to be closer.
Rachel giggles gently, extends her arms and gently whispers a, "Sorry..." Before grabbing the wolf by the fur and helping
her up. It doesn't hurt; it just feels like a light tug. But then she's towering over Rachel, all but in her lap, and it feels so
perfect even though Rachel looks like she's about to fall backwards and the slide feels as if it'll collapse under their
collective weight. But they just sit there, content.

"I suppose you're wondering why I'm crying all the time, right?" Quinn hears, slightly muffled against the fur of her chest.
She feels Rachel shudder against her, trying to fight back the tears that threaten to burst free, so she gently settles her
head on top of Rachel's and just stays there, trying to pour some strength from the simple gesture.
"I feel as if I can talk to you, because in a way, you won't judge me." Rachel sighs gently, "Everyone judges me. They all
assume I'm doing something for my own gain, but I'm not. I don't really have any friends, just people I share a room with an
hour a day. I can't talk to them, or trust them with what I have to say."

She's quiet for a long time, and the sun is just beginning to set in a haze of light orange when Rachel speaks again.
"My daddy is cheating on my dad." Rachel whispers, broken, "Dad knows, and they argue...they argue all the time and I'm
caught in the middle. They try to use me against one another and I'm sick of it."

Quinn clenches her jaw, and she knows Rachel feels it because suddenly she's moving down the slide and dropping to the
floor. Quinn leaps off the slide and circles to face Rachel, who's clutching her arms around herself, staring at the sky,
almost praying for support.

"Dad always says 'don't shout at me in front of Rachel' or 'do you really want our daughter to hear about your sordid
affair?'." Rachel lowers her head to look at the wolf sat in front of her, staring at her with almost sympathetic eyes. It's so
unnerving, that an animal can show sympathy, it's almost not right; the way that a wolf is staring at her like she's the moon
and the stars.

But it's oddly satisfying.

"Then daddy tries to get me on his side, and I don't want to take sides, because I love them both. I know that what daddy is
doing is wrong, but my dad isn't completely innocent. He treats my daddy like dirt most days, and I'm there to pick up the
pieces and try to keep them together." She shudders out a breath, "I'm trying so desperately to keep my family together
that I'm ignoring everything else around me."
Quinn nudges her leg with her snout and sits back down again, "You want to know what I'm ignoring?"

The wolf's ears twitch, and Rachel laughs lightly through a sob, "Nosy, aren't you?"
Quinn immediately loves the gesture, lolling her tongue out of her mouth, because Rachel crouches down in front of her
and scratches her behind the ear. Her back leg thumps slightly against the dirt as Rachel scratches harder.
She's never had anyone scratch her behind the ears before, but now she knows she wants Rachel to do it all the damn
time.
"I think I know why I find it so easy to open up to you."

Then Rachel's cell is ringing in her pocket, Defying Gravity, as she once told the Glee Club during one of their sessions
Sophmore year, so Quinn isn't surprised. The singer pulls out her phone, sighs at the display then flips it open, answering
with a soft, "Yes?"
Rachel continues to scratch the wolf's ear softly, stroking the fur from time to time as she listens to the person on the other
side of the call. Then there's a, "Okay." and the phone is flipped shut.
"I need to go home."

Quinn wants to protest, but she knows she can't. She wants to know why Rachel finds it so easy to open up to a damn
wolf, but then Rachel is kissing her softly on the top of her head and walking away.

She forgets her own name and doesn't move for ten minutes.

A day later, Quinn finds Rachel in the auditorium, sitting at the piano and practising her scales as if nothing had
happened. She has to applaud the brunette; her act of indifference was one that could win Oscars, but she doesn't miss
the way her back stiffens when she finally notices the blonde walk toward her.

"Quinn." She smiles, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"How're you, Berry?" She asks, leaning against the piano.

Rachel seems shocked at the question, "Oh, I'm doing very well thank you. Yourself?"
Quinn just nods and all but inspects Rachel. She seems fine, except for those growing bags under her eyes and the hair
that's pulled up in a sloppy ponytail like she couldn't be bothered this morning.
"You got me wrong about Finn. When I asked if you'd ended it, I didn't mean it as an opening to get back with him."

The brunette nods and returns her attention back to the keys of the piano, "I regret for lashing out. I just had a very stressful
day."

"I get it," Quinn nods, half wishing she was as courageous with her intentions as she was as a wolf. She can feel and smell
the hurt and discomfort radiating off of Rachel and she has to bite down on her bottom lip not to hug her or do something
equally weird that would probably get the singer running out of the auditorium screaming, "So you're okay?" She asks
again, just for clarification, even though she knows the singer is lying.

"I'm fine." She replies with a forced smile, making sure to lock eyes with Quinn, "Just fi-,"
She stops, and Quinn flicks an eyebrow up in question. The brunette seems frozen, and for a second, she thinks Rachel's
having a heart attack or something, because her eyes are wide and her mouth is opening and shutting like a land ridden
fish.

The fuck?
"Uh. Rachel?"
Suddenly, Rachel slips out of it and shakes her head, "I apologize, you just...reminded me of something."
"Like what?" Quinn asks, feeling as if she's scribbling her signature down on her own personal death sentence.

Rachel smirks, "You'll think I'm crazy if I tell you." Then she shakes her head, "I think I'm going crazy now. I mean, you're
talking to me after all."

"Why wouldn't I talk to you?"

The brunette just smiles, "Because I'm Rachel Berry."

Quinn just nods, "Yeah well, I don't care." Then she crosses her arms over her chest, "What did I remind you of?"
Rachel seems oddly humoured by Quinn's response, "Just something, never mind about that."

"You seemed freaked out for a little bit there," She pushes, she needs to hear it. Could she put her faith in the human
Quinn just as much as the wolf Quinn?

"It was just a weird sense of deja vu." When she returns her attention back to the piano, Quinn feels herself deflate; wolf
one. Quinn zero.

Quinn makes sure to keep an eye on Rachel for the rest of the week. She seems fine, but Quinn knows different, and her
nose knows different. The singer keeps her show face on, but the blonde knows what's going on, and sometimes she
sees Rachel falter, but only for a half a second before slamming that show face back on.
It's only half a second, but it's there. And it's killing Quinn. She can hear her wolf howling right at the back of her mind,
begging for her to come clean, to talk to Rachel, to make her feel better more than her wolf could.
So she does.

She corners Rachel after Glee Club when she's packing away her sheet music. Finn leaves them to it, thankfully; he
seems to have gotten the hint that Rachel doesn't want to be with him, or maybe its the fact that Quinn just glares until he
admits defeat and leaves.
"This is becoming a trend." Rachel says playfully, "People will begin to think we're friends, Quinn. Do you really want that?"

"We need to talk."

Rachel sobers, "Okay."

"I know you're lying about being okay. I know you're not. You're a great actress, you're hiding it well, but I can tell. I know
something is going wrong, and you don't want to tell anyone about it because you feel like they won't care but-,"
And Rachel's fucking laughing, outright laughing, and Quinn's taken back.

"Did I say something funny?"

Rachel sobers, wiping the tears of mirth from her eyes, before finally saying, "Please don't act like you care."

And she's gone.

Quinn avoids Rachel for a week. They only talk to one another because they're on the same flight to New York. It's
Nationals, everyone's pumped, including Rachel, but Quinn just puts it down to the fact that she's away from her feuding
father's for a few days.
They only speak to one another because they have to; choreography, who sings what part of their group song Light Up the
World and what they're all going to do when they finally land at JFK and explore the Big Apple.
Quinn is content to just sit back and watch Rachel finally be happy about something, because after all, New York is her
dream. But she's still hurt, because Rachel thinks she doesn't care. So she tries not to.

It all goes to shit when Finn kisses Rachel after their duet. It's fucking disgusting and Quinn almost feels the bone in her
right arm crack as her wolf tries to rip free, but she reigns it in, barely, and she shuffles from foot to foot and focuses on the
choreography.

It works. Only just.

They make it through the song, but during, Quinn can't help but hazard a glance at Rachel who's putting on that show face
again, and it looks even more fake than usual. But she doesn't know whether it's because she's confused or just
conflicted.

They rank thirteenth. Santana blames Rachel and lunges for her. Quinn barely holds the fuming girl back, and she knows
Santana is beyond pissed because she's mentioning something about Lima Heights Adjacent again.

Rachel just looks lost, and only leaves the room when Tina, bless her soul, tells her it would be for the best. No one follows
her, not even Finn who just looks pissed at himself for destroying their chances of taking Nationals.

Quinn wants to punch him. She barely avoids doing so.

They're at JFK, solemn, waiting for their flight to be called back to Ohio. No one has really spoken for a few hours, not
even Brittany, who tends to lighten up the mood of the group regardless of how down in the dumps they were.
It's horrible, and uncomfortable, and she could sense that everyone just wanted to go home and get the hell away from
each other. Quinn feels the same way, especially with the fact every time she closes her eyes she remembers doing that
half assed glance over her shoulder and seeing Finn and Rachel kissing after Pretending.

It was a half assed glance that just etched itself into her brain and refused to disappear. She wants to tear something
apart. Perhaps Finn.

She promises herself to go hunting when she's back in Lima.

She does go hunting. She doesn't even stay home long enough to hold a conversation with her parents. She just dumps
her luggage in her bedroom and disappears right back out the door. She can hear her dad telling her to come home, but
she just blocks him out. She just wants to hunt; she wants to kill something and pretend its Finn because Finn is a fucking
dickhead with no sense of self respect for the Glee Club or how hard they'd worked because all he wanted was his
girlfriend back and...

Fuck, she really wants to kill something.

It's horrible, but she loves it. She chases squirrels, rabbits and even a few raccoons just because she can. She kills each
time she catches something, and doesn't regret it for a second. Its calming, and the urge to lock her mouth around Finn
Hudson's throat and rip it apart finally, slowly, but finally begins to dissipate.

She's halfway home, blood around her chops when she finally decides to let herself hear her mom and dad again. Judy is
thinking about dinner, but Russell is calling out to Quinn.

Get your ass home now, Quinn.

He doesn't sound angry, although he cursed, but she rushes home anyway. Russell is prowling the living room when she
walks in, pulling on a shirt from the bag of clothes she keeps stashed away in the back yard for when she reverts back to
being a human again.

"What's wrong?"
"Your room is what's wrong."

Once again, he doesn't sound pissed and Quinn is just confused, "I could have cleaned my room later on, dad."
"No. Go up to your room now."
Her jaw drops, "Dad, I just wanted to hunt. I was stressed out because of New York and-,"
"Shut up and go upstairs." He put his index finger to his lips, pointing it up to the ceiling. She just watches him, eyes
narrowed in confusion.

Rachel is upstairs in your room.

"What?" She all but screeches and lunges up the stairs like a bat out of hell. She trips twice on the same step as she
launches herself up it, and she checks her shoulder when she opens her door and walks into the door frame, but there, just
like her father had said, was Rachel Berry, sitting on her bed.
"Uh. Hey."

"Hey." She sounds completely indifferent, and it sets Quinn's teeth on edge. She closes the door behind her, because
somehow, she feels safer with the door closed.

"Why are you in my room?"

"Do you blame me for losing Nationals?"

The blonde rolls her eyes, "No, I blame Finn." The she pauses and dead pans, "Because he's a dickhead."
Rachel would have giggled at Quinn Fabray cursing if she wasn't so pissed, "Okay. So why the silent treatment...?" She's
hurt. Really fucking hurt.
Quinn scoffs, "You literally told me to 'not act like I care'." She leans against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest as
she regards the brunette on her bed, forcing the thoughts away that she could just pin the beautiful girl to her bed and fuck
her senseless. She's so close, right where Quinn wants her, smelling so fucking delicious and she desperately wants to
do it but...
"It's just a shock you know," Rachel sighs gently, "I've known you for half my life, and in that time all you've done is treat me
like dirt; call me names, drawn pornographic pictures of me on the bathroom walls. Why the sudden attitude change?"
She could come clean right now, but the arrogant side of her just makes her think that Rachel doesn't deserve the truth.

"What, so I can't care for a friend?"

"So I'm a friend now?" Rachel asks, sitting forward slightly, "When did that happen? I wasn't aware."

Quinn stays silent.

Rachel sobers, "I thought you'd at least have the guts to tell me." She sounds so utterly disappointed and it breaks Quinn
in half.
"About what?"

Rachel shakes her head and stands from the bed, straightening out the same skirt she wore on the plane home from New
York, "Never mind. I have to get back home."

Quinn doesn't stop her.

They don't speak at school, in fact, they hardly even look at one another. Glee Club isn't even scheduled anymore because
the term is over; but Quinn only sees it as a lost opportunity to talk to Rachel.
She's still confused as to what the brunette meant, although in her heart of hearts she knows exactly what she meant. She
just doesn't want to admit it to herself.
Rachel's heading out to her car when Quinn catches sight of her for the first time in two days. She seems to be carrying
herself better than when they last saw one another, and Finn is nowhere to be seen. In fact, every time Quinn had seen the
lumbering oaf, he seemed to be more and more pissed with each passing second.

Obviously Rachel decided not to take him back.

It makes her wolf feel happy, but when she watches Rachel disappear into her car, she can't help but sigh. Summer was
only a week away.

They don't talk or even look at each other for the last remaining week of school. When the other Glee members wish each
other a happy summer, Rachel offers hers to them, but not to Quinn, blatantly leaving her out.
Santana notices, but says nothing, she's too busy dealing with her own shit with Brittany.
It's three weeks into summer when Quinn, as her wolf, finally sets her eyes on Rachel. She's at the park and she seems
fine; she doesn't look like she's been crying, but she still hesitates when she walks toward the brunette.

Rachel doesn't acknowledge her when she sits down, ten yards between them again, because somehow, she thinks
Rachel will feel better with the distance between them both.

Its ten minutes before Rachel even looks at her.

She looks so broken, so dejected that Quinn actually howls in pain, because somehow, she can feel it; she can feel that
pain, feel that dejection.
Rachel blinks slowly, almost as if she really isn't controlling her own body. But then she takes a deep breath and clutches
the chains at her sides, kicking herself softly off the dirt and swinging ever so slightly.
Quinn watches her for an hour before Rachel gets a call and leaves.

Judy notices her daughter pulling away, and Russell tells her to leave Quinn alone, to deal with it herself. As a mother, it
kills her, but she agrees with her husband's wishes.

Quietly, in hushed tones, they speak to one another in his office as he fills out paperwork, keeping their thoughts blocked
from their daughter who slept upstairs.

"She's pulling away from us."

"She's doing it for a reason," Russell whispers back, sifting through his paperwork, "She has to come to a difficult
decision, and we'll be there in the aftermath."
Judy frowns, "You really think that Rachel can be trusted with this? This is our family, our heritage, Russ."

Russell taps his pen against his lips, then after a beat, shrugs, "We'll have to see, won't we?"
"I don't like this, Russell."

"Neither do I, but we can't choose who Quinn urges for."

"I just hope this turns out well."

"It'll only get worse before it gets better."

Two days later, two am in the morning, Quinn lays in the park, head resting on her paws as she waits. She can smell
Rachel, she could smell the girls scent ten minutes ago, it was only a matter of time before she entered the park.
Eventually, Rachel does, and Quinn's head picks up off her paws, ears poised upright as Rachel draws closer.

The singer takes her seat at the swing, quietly, eyes locked with the wolf, "My father's are getting a divorce." She kicks off
the ground and allows gravity to swing her, "They agreed while we were in New York."

Quinn whimpers.
Rachel sighs, "I guess it's for the best, right? You can't force a family together that refuses to work."

They're both quiet. Quinn lays her head back down, and only after half an hour of watching Rachel swing softly back and
forth, does her whole body shoot up and step back in reflex.

Rachel smiles sadly to herself, "You just noticed." She kicks off the swing and leaves.

They agreed while we were in New York.

Quinn knocks softly on the Berry's door and waits, trying not to die of a heart attack as she does so. Her heart feels as if it
could jump out her chest and run a couple laps around the Earth before it even thought about slowing.
She was going to do it. She was going to tell her one secret that could either destroy her or make her feel significant in a
completely insignificant world.
And it was all in Rachel Berry's hands.

The door swings open, and a tall African American answers the door, Leroy. "Quinn." His eyes quickly scan her, trying to
get over the shock of seeing her on his doorstep, "I take it you're here to see Rachel?"
"Uhm, yes."
She hesitates, trying to reign in her anger when Leroy lets her pass by him and into the house. She wants to scream, kick
off; ask why he was ruining such a good family. But he just directs her up the stairs and says, "Last door on the right."

Rachel is sat at her laptop, searching for something on google when Quinn walks in; after knocking and being told to
come in of course. Rachel turns in her desk chair and watches as Quinn shuts the door behind her, leaning back against
it.

Quinn swallows, feeling her mouth go suddenly dry, and all she wants to do is launch herself out of the window and go
back home.

"I'm a wolf." She whispers, locking eyes with Rachel.

"I know."

They're quiet, but it's not uncomfortable, it's oddly comforting. Then she's crying, because it feels so good just to tell
someone what she really is. She's finally able to tell someone who can just say 'I know' and mean it. Two words, and it
might as well be a monologue of love and devotion.
It's acceptance. The one thing she's ever wanted.

"I'm disappointed though." Quinn rubs at her eyes and sniffles, "I wish you would have told me yourself instead of me
having to drop hints until you realized I knew."

The blonde shrugs her shoulders, "When did you know?"

"In the auditorium, at the piano. Your eyes."

Quinn nods and expels a long breath to calm herself, "I'm sure you have a lot of questions."
"Of course I do." Rachel nods in agreement, "But I'm still angry with you for not telling me."

"You have to understand that I couldn't tell anyone." Quinn fighs back calmly, locking eyes with Rachel once more, "There's
only a small handful of werewolves in Lima, and...if we're wiped out for any reason, that's the end of us. For good."

"The fact that you couldn't trust me enough to tell me..." Rachel sighs shakily, "Breaks my heart."

"Understand it from my point of view."

"I do." Rachel concedes, "But it doesn't mean I like it."

"I'm surprised you're not completely freaking out."

Rachel smirks weakly, "I've met your wolf plenty of times; why should I be freaking out? Your wolf calmed me down a lot
more than you think."

"I know, I could smell it on you." Quinn replies without really thinking.
The singer cringes, "Gross. You can smell me?"

Quinn shrugs helplessly, "Kind of a wolf thing."

They're at the park, later that night, sat together on the swing, "Its weird, seeing you here as a human."

Quinn chuckles, "Yeah, its weird being able to talk to you instead of poking at you with my nose."
Rachel ducks her head, "It's adorable...when you do that."

The blonde blushes and kicks herself off the ground, extending her legs with each push forward to try and get higher. They
engage in some form of challenge, to see who can get higher. It makes Rachel giggle, and in turn, makes Quinn feel some
semblance of joy because Rachel is laughing for the first time in a long time.
They come to a still eventually, and their laughter has all but died out into the wind, "I'm sorry about your dads...I wouldn't
wish that on anyone."
The singer nods, "I know."

"I'm here for you, you know." Rachel turns her head to look at the blonde beside her, "You know...human form, wolf
form...whatever."

Rachel is quiet for a little while, and it unnerves Quinn; she feels her wolf desperately begging for her to ask what she
wants, but she just waits, impatiently but patient, until finally Rachel opens her mouth.
"Wolf for now." The brunette nods to herself, "Then...we'll work on the human side, okay?"

It's a compromise she's willing to take.

"Just as long as I'm there for you, that's all I want."

It makes her heart beat faster when Rachel blushes, "Thank you." Then she adds, "For everything."
And damn, her wolf was howling, so painfully loud inside of her, and...was that her parents?

Kiss her Quinn!

Quinn, if you don't kiss her right now, I'm ashamed to be your father. Well, not really. But you get my point.
"Jesus," Quinn whispers, scratching the back of her neck with embarrassment.
"What's wrong?" She hears, but she doesn't look up, she just keeps her head bowed, hand braced on the back of her
neck in a massaging motion.
"I can just...hear my parents in my head..."

"Another wolf thing?"

"You betch'ya."

"Ah..." Rachel pauses, and suddenly, Quinn finds her shoes incredibly interesting. "So what are they saying?"
Quinn slowly looks up, swallowing in reflex as her eyes land on Rachel. She looks so perfectly content, smiling ever so
slightly, and it feels so right, so she stands from the swing, drops to her knees in front of Rachel, leans up and kisses her
softly.

Her wolf has never sounded so loud, and she barely hears her parents cheering over the sound of it, but none of it matters,
because she's kissing Rachel Berry, and Rachel is kissing right back. It's beautiful, so perfect, so fitting and everything in
her life just slots into space, just like their lips.
Its soft, and gentle, and they're taking their time. She feels safe and content when Rachel wraps her arms around her neck,
all but locking them in their embrace. Quinn lifts her hands up and cups Rachel's cheeks, thumbs gently brushing over
defined cheekbones.

Her body feels as if it'll set on fire, and when Rachel whines against her lips at the gentle flick of her tongue against her
bottom lip, she almost feels herself combust into flames.

But her wolf is winning, and she has to pull back while she still has some sense of control.
It kills her, and Rachel whines in disappointment, but her arms don't move from around her neck. She doesn't complain
about it either.
"Why stop...?" Rachel asks, breathlessly.

"Wolf." She whispers raggedly, trying to control herself, "I'll explain another time. You get the jist though."
Rachel giggles and nudges her nose against Quinn's, "I think I do."

"So..." Quinn whispers after minutes of just holding each other, content to just be in each other's space for just a little bit
longer, "Wolf first...human second, right?"

Rachel smiles and blushes before burying her face in Quinn's neck. She barely hears the muffle against her neck, but she
smiles when she finally makes it out.

"I'm willing to compromise."

"We have a lot to work out. You know that, right?"
She feels Rachel nod against her neck.

"You're going to have to learn everything about wolves...just so you know for future reference..."
"I may or may not already have a PowerPoint presentation ready and waiting on my laptop."

Quinn smirks and wraps her arms tighter around Rachel, burying her nose in soft brown waves of hair, luxuriating, "And I
suppose I'll have to sit through that, huh?"
Rachel chuckles, "If you know what's good for you."
*Chapter 2*: Midnight
Edit: As asked by many people, I have decided to merge all my Werewolf!Quinn stories into one collective story. From
now on, this story will be updated, as per usual instead of making one new story. So if you're interested, please alert this
story and if you have any questions, you can find me on my tumblr. The link is on my profile.

They're friends at school, at least, that's what Quinn pegs it down as. When they return to school for their senior year, it's
just the same; they say hey when they pass in the hallways and sometimes they're paired up in Glee Club if Mr. Schuester
is feeling particularly daring and or suicidal at pairing Brittany up with her ex-boyfriend.
It's just as it was, but of course, there's an undertone that Quinn and Rachel don't allow anyone else in on. It's their secret,
and only their secret. Finn is still out of the picture, although the longing puppy eyed stares from across the choir room to
Rachel are beginning to miff Quinn off, and her wolf just wants to rip the boy's already non-existent balls off as payback.

Together they agree that nothing would change at school, at least, not for a little while. Rachel wants to make a connection
slowly; she wants to nurture it, and Quinn understands that, so she backs off and so does her wolf, that's making it harder
and harder to do it on a regular basis.
She even takes a day off school every week, just to relax. Being around Rachel more often at school is exhausting, not
because the singer likes to talk a lot or demands solos in Glee Club; no, it's because her wolf is becoming harder to
control.

She puts it down to the fact that only her wolf had spent time with Rachel over the remainder of their summer vacation.
Rachel bonded with the wolf that Quinn was inside, and Quinn was fine with that, although maybe a little jealous...which
was weird, because the wolf was still her...but whatever.
But there was a particularly interesting, okay, terrifying, moment when they were sat together in the auditorium, watching
Mercedes and Tina perform some weird mash-up that she wasn't really interested in because fuck, Rachel Berry is sat
right next to her, exuding this peaceful smell and it's driving her completely up the wall.

The singer is calm, collected, happy. It's everything her wolf wants, what it needs, so it decides to try and make its
appearance with the whole Glee Club sat around her. She manages to reign it back, but only when Rachel gets up with the
pretence of warming her voice up for the solo she prepared.

It's a close call, a fucking really close call; so she decides to take a day off, just to be away from everything; from school,
from her parents, from Rachel. It's just her and her wolf; the way it was right at the beginning.
She mediates, with this weird silent Buddhist thing that her father has taught her since her urges first begun. It's weird,
being a Christian and practising Buddhist rituals. But it calms her; it helps her a lot more than she thought it would.
So she's sat in the middle of a forest where her family like to hunt, on the rare occasions that they do hunt together, and
she's just meditating. Her mind is calm, thankfully the howling of her wolf is only a minor whimper right at the back of her
mind. She's not really thinking of anything except for the way the wind blows through her hair, or the way her clothes shift
whenever she moves.

It's an exhilarating experience; something that she never thought would work, but does.

But then her wolf is fighting back, and she bites down on her bottom lip to try and force it back down. It's not like her wolf
isn't allowed to come out, because sometimes it's nice just to go on a long run and hunt, but she's trying to control it, and
sometimes it's alright, but then it just gets downright hard.
Like right now. Her wolf is all but howling, screaming to the forefront or her mind because she just happens to look at a
rabbit that has brown eyes. Surprise surprise, her mind immediately, almost automatically, switches back to the brunette
singer that she hadn't told about her little trip.

And she's worrying, because Rachel is probably wondering where she is, and she knows it's horrible to just disappear on
Rachel when she needs her the most; but she can't exactly be a shoulder to cry on when all she wants to do is pin the girl
down and have her way.
They're friends, although they kissed that one time, but after that, they didn't really speak about it. She's fine with that, well,
not really, but she can't really complain, because Rachel doesn't hesitate to talk to her when they're at school anymore, so
either way, she won.
But the fact they haven't spoken about that kiss just pure pisses her off, and her wolf is just screaming inside her skull to
go back to Lima and just deal with the urge that's close to ripping her apart.
She's sweating, she can feel it on her brow, and she goes to wipe it away, but her arms won't move. They're locked on her
lap, and she knows it isn't a good sign. Her wolf is controlling her from the inside; so she isn't surprised when she rises to
her feet, of her own accord and starts walking the way she came.

But she's fighting it, screaming at her wolf to just calm the fuck down, but it's not listening and she's panicking. She tenses
the muscles in her arms, trying to gain some form of control back, but there's nothing. Her feet are literally stomping into
the dirt at her feet, just like she would if she was in her wolf form; this isn't good.

Dad, I can't control my wolf. I can't control my body!

Over the painful howling of her wolf, she can't hear her father, or if he even bothers to make a reply. But of course her dad
does reply, but she can't hear him, although she can tell he's panicking, and only when she manages to force back the
howling of her wolf, barely, does she hear what he's saying.

Your urges have entered a higher stage. Force yourself. Force your body to stop!
Easier said than fucking done, but she can hear her dad screaming in her head to control herself, and she tries, she really
does try, but she can't, her wolf is too strong and her body just aches from the pressure she's putting on it.

I can't! I can't...
You can! I didn't raise my daughter to be a wimp! Control your wolf, I know you can do it, Quinn!
Her dad is taunting her; he's there, goading her, and before she even realizes it, all she can hear is her dad calling her a
wimp, and a weakling, the painful howling of her wolf is all but gone.
Then she realizes her body has stopped, mid step, drenched in sweat. Her head is pounding, the voice of her dad is
gone, and her body just aches like she's taken on a rouge pack of wolves.
She collapses.

She wakes up in the back of her dad's car; the tiny bumps that the wheels run over jolt her awake. Her body still aches, like
a bitch in fact, but she feels infinitely better than she did before she collapsed.
Her mother is in the front seat, fingers tapping nervously on the steering wheel. Only when Judy Fabray glances in the rear-
view mirror, does the incessant tapping of her fingers stop.
"Oh praise Jesus, you're awake."

Quinn groans, hesitantly raising her arm, still half convinced she doesn't have control of her body. "What happened...?"
She asks, although she has a pretty good idea.

"Your wolf decided to show it's full power to you, Quinnie." Judy glances quickly over her shoulder before her eyes return
locked to the road, "The meditating helps, somewhat, but eventually the wolf just gives in and shows how strong it truly is."

"Have you gone through this...?"

Judy hesitates, mouth opening and closing a couple times before she sighs, "No." She answers simply, and Quinn's head
drops back down to the stiff leather of her dad's Mercedes.
"Then why is it happening to me?"

The older Fabray takes in her daughter's appearance from the rear-view mirror; three quarter shorts, a dirt stricken white
tank top, hair up in a sloppy ponytail, tendrils stuck to her forehead and cheeks.

"Your father has a good idea, Quinn. Try not panic, just rest for now."

Russell Fabray should have been at work, but instead he was pacing the inner sanctum of his home office, up and down,
up and down, memorizing the same strip of carpet as he wore a hole in the damn thing.

He remembers Quinn screaming in his head; sounding so utterly terrified that it makes his heart skip a beat in his chest.
His baby daughter, out in the wilderness all by herself, crying for her daddy to help.

Over the years, he'd just resigned himself to the fate that his youngest daughter wasn't a little girl anymore; she was an
adult, someone who could deal with her own problems, and she didn't need her father there to kiss her cuts and bruises
anymore.

It broke his heart, but then again, the same had happened when Frannie hit nineteen and went to college in Boston. He
heard from her, sometimes, if she could be bothered. She was a busy woman, between her second pregnancy and her
job, it was difficult to juggle her parents too.
Frannie Fabray married a werewolf, whom she met on a night out while partying with college friends. The initial meeting
had been disastrous; Lee, her now perfect husband, had been three sheets to the wind and all but projectile vomited over
her chest as he spoke to them.
Of course, Frannie had been completely disgusted and warned him to stay away. But when he heard her growl, a low,
menacing growl, she fled in a panic.

Eventually, Lee tracked her down, and he flat out asked her if she was a werewolf. She was hesitant, but after he had
morphed into his wolf and jumped on her bed, making the thing snap in two under his weight, she told him the truth.

The next day, he bought her a new bed, and took her to lunch. It went off from there, and now, they were were expecting
their second child, a boy to add to their three year old girl.

Russell hardly ever saw Frannie or Lee or little Abigail; he wasn't needed anymore. Frannie had her hero now, and that
certainly wasn't her father.

Quinn was at the age where she still saw Russell as a hero, but he knew it wouldn't last, and when he hears Judy pull up in
the driveway, he realizes it's already the beginning of the end. He isn't anyone's hero anymore.

Quinn stomps into the house, arms crossed tightly over her chest as she watches her father descend the stairs, "What the
hell is going on?" She demands, because seriously, she needs to know what the fuck is going on before she drives
herself crazy.

Judy just drops the car keys in the bowl by the door and heads into the kitchen; because this is a conversation that's
suppose to be held between a father and their offspring.

Russell pulls his daughter into a strong hug, holding her close to his chest, content to just stay there for a while when
Quinn's arms finally wrap around his torso. And then his daughter is sobbing, crying heavily into his chest, and he lets his
shirt soak up her tears while he consoles her.
She could have died, and it's only just sunk in for her. So she sobs, and eventually calms with her father's hand in her hair,
pulling the ponytail free and threading his fingers through the locks. It's always been calming for her; her mother did it on
the nights when she couldn't sleep, and ever since, her father did it too. Rarely, but it happened.

"We need to talk," He flat out tells her as he pulls back, the front of his shirt dotted with moisture, "My office, okay?" It's not
really a question, because he's already halfway up the stairs, not even stopping to see if she's following him.

He plants her in the seat at his desk; his chair, the one that even his wife has never sat in. So instantly, Quinn begins to
panic.

"Dad..." She takes a long shuddering breath in, "What's happening to me?"

Russell just sighs.

Rachel tries not to worry about Quinn, or the fact that the blonde just happens to disappear completely off the map for a
day a week. But it's hard, because over the summer, Quinn began to mean something to her. More than Finn, more than
her dad's divorce, more than her dreams.

Quinn's wolf sits there for hours on end, just listening to her talk about how she feels about her dad's splitting up, or how
she's dealing with having to split her time between her childhood home and a motel in down town Lima because she
doesn't want to feel like she's choosing one father over the other.
She talks, and Quinn listens, more than anyone else ever would. She feels safe, content, like she actually belongs; even if
it's with a golden wolf that sits there, ears pricked, nose snorting whenever she says something particularly funny.
They gel together, they bond together.

So when Quinn just disappears for a day a week, Rachel finds it hard to reign in her worry about it. She doesn't talk to
human Quinn about her wolf; mostly because they only see each other at school, and when they do see each other out of
school, Quinn can't talk.
It's difficult, but she deals with it.

She finally has Quinn's number in her phone too, and she just wishes she could send a text off, or just call the girl to see if
she's okay. She's so close to doing it too, because she's sat in the middle of a Glee Club meeting and her phone is just
there in her lap, begging to be used, and it's not like she's interested in what Mr. Schuester has to say about a 90's rap
that he's interested in performing for the kids.

Finn is staring at her from across the room too. She doesn't have to look to know he's doing it, she can just feel it. When
Quinn is sat in the room, she can usually hear the girl growl; and while it's glaringly obvious that she's jealous and or
pissed off, it kind of takes the edge off a little bit. Because having Quinn in the same room just calms her down.
Are you okay?
Three words, that's all it is, but she knows Quinn will appreciate it.
Finn trails after her when she's out of the room, but doesn't say a word. It unnerves her, and she clutches her bag closer to
her as she walks, because having a lumbering oaf stomping after you just freaks some people out.
She manages to make it to her car before Finn opens his mouth, and she instantly regrets not diving head first into her car
and driving away.
"Yes, Finn?"

He looks tired, like he's been up all night watching dirty movies or something; which she knows he does because he
downright told her while they were making out one time, hoping that it would somehow work her up enough to finally let him
grab her boob.
It didn't work. For obvious reasons.

"I know about your dads splitting up, and it totally must suck for you." No shit. She cries herself to sleep every night,
regardless of if she's seen Quinn or not, "But I want to be there for you. And...I want us to be together again. I know I can
be a jerk, but...you're not always so nice yourself, you know. But, we balance each other out, and that's what you do in a
relationship, right? Balance each other out?"

"I'm not always nice?" She dead pans, "Wow, Finn. What a way to get my heart back." She scoffs and rips open the door
to her car.

"...Is that yes?" He asks slowly, watching her through the window as she stabs her key into the ignition.
"I'd rather be battered to death with a Tony Award!"

Her house really isn't a home anymore. The house that was once full of laughter and jovial antics were only a bittersweet
memory that plagued her daily. Her daddy, Leroy, has gone. She doesn't hear his bellowing laughter in the mornings while
he makes pancakes, or the butchered duets that he sings along with his husband.

It breaks her heart.

Leroy never comes back to the house; he'd packed up and left days after they'd filed for divorce. She was at the house
when it happened. She sat on the bottom step of the stairs and watched as he lugged boxes of his possessions out of the
house and into the back of his Lexus. He watched Hiram completely disregard him and continue to read the paper on the
living room couch like nothing was happening.
She shrugged away, still so raw inside, when he tried to kiss her cheek goodbye. The hurt that flashed over his face was
hard to ignore, but thankfully he understood, and with one last smile at her and a glance at his now ex-husband, he walked
straight out the door.

Hiram was trying his hardest to keep both himself and her together, and she truly did try to make an effort, but there were
those days when she just wanted to lock herself up in her room and sob for a little while. The perfect family life that she
always thought she had was just a fairytale.
Her parents were the one thing that made her believe that true love existed. The way that they would stand close together,
hands casually brushing together, just keeping that contact, needing to be close together. Their sort of love was one in a
million, and made their only daughter believe that one day, in the future, she would have it to.

She never got it with Finn, and if she really thinks about it, Quinn...
She sighs and glances down at her phone as she collapses onto the living room couch. There's still no reply, and part of
her just wants to rush over to the Fabray household and rip Quinn a new one for ignoring her.
"Rach, is that you, baby girl?" Hiram wanders from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish cloth. He looks completely
exhausted; those sparkling eyes that usually carried such a fun loving attitude were sucked dry, his skin looks gaunt and
the bags under his eyes are so deep and heavy from lack of sleep.
He just looks like a shadow of his former self.

"Expecting daddy...?" She asks softly, glancing over her shoulder at him.
When her dad looks down at the cloth in his hand, Rachel sighs. Of course her dad is hoping her daddy will come back;
he may have cheated and broken a vow he promised all those years ago when they finally married, but he still loved the
cheating bastard, regardless of what he's done.

"It's okay." Rachel shrugs her shoulders and looks back down to her phone, "It's understandable." Because it is.
Because with Hiram, there's always Leroy and with Leroy, there's always Hiram. They had been a pair all their lives, and
no matter how horrible her daddy's cheating was, she knew her dad still loved and cared for him.

"Are you okay?" Hiram wanders back into the kitchen, raising his voice a little so he can still be heard over the sizzle of
the frying pan on the stove. It smells like chicken, but not really chicken, because even though Leroy was the biggest
vegan in the house, and Hiram adored meat, he was still willing to make a vegan meal to appease his daughter's needs.
She's uncomfortable, she doesn't want to be here, it feels as if the walls are closing in on her and all she can hear is the
screams of her parents when Hiram found out that Leroy had been cheating. The sound of a vase slamming up against
the wall and shattering into thousands of tiny pieces, the sound of a raised angry voice, and one meek voice trying
desperately to calm the former down.
She can't breathe. She needs to get out. She needs to see her wolf.

In the haze of midnight, a half crescent moon shining brightly, stars painting the sky in nonsensical dots and patterns, she
makes it to the park. It's abandoned, just like usual, because who really comes to a park in the middle of the night? Only
her, it's her thing, she's done it ever since everything went to pot at home and she doesn't plan on stopping any time soon.
She just likes sitting on the swings, kicking herself into an almost catatonic rhythm as she stares up at the sky. She often
wonders what it would like to just sprout wings and take off; just to fly, uninhabited, free, careless without a worry in the
world.
No longer would have to worry about keeping her voice in perfect condition, arguing with Mercedes or Kurt over solos, if
her dad was going to have an emotional breakdown or not, if Quinn was avoiding her for some reason, if Mr. Schuester
really was trying to ruin her future career, or if her daddy was happy in that tiny motel bedroom, sleeping in a bed that
holds no memories and no promise of a stable future.

She would be free, to soar into the heavens, and just live.

Quinn isn't there. There's no howl of preparation that a wolf is about to leap over a wire fence, or the heavy thuds of paws
slapping against the earth. There's nothing. Just the wind, the chirp of crickets and her breathing. It should soothe her. It
used to. But now it doesn't, because she's just panicking, because the one person, one thing, she wants to see isn't there.
All she wants to see is that shimmering gold fur, those eyes that could knock anyone into submission, to feel that wet nose
digging against her neck as she nuzzles for comfort.
But nothing, and she chokes back a sob.

Because she realizes she's truly alone.

Quinn isn't at school the next day either, and honestly, Rachel isn't surprised. After the no show, and no text back, she kind
of just resigned herself to the fact that Quinn was sick of her complaining, her constant sobbing, her worries of a future that
wasn't sure anymore.
But she asks around nonetheless. Santana has calmed down a lot since she got with Brittany over the summer, so Rachel
can talk to her and not have to worry about getting a fist to her nose. But Santana's at a loss too, and so is Brittany who is
scribbling something superficial down in Santana's notebook. There's a heart next to it, and Santana smiles at it, so she
just decides to leave, because she feels as if she's intruding in on something special that she doesn't belong to.
She doesn't ask anyone else though, because honestly, it's none of her business if Quinn comes to school or not. They're
just friends. Okay, they're friends who kissed once, and my god it was a mind blowing kiss, but it was just once, and it
wasn't as if they were dating or anything.

So she leaves it and she goes to her classes, acting as if nothing is wrong.

She sees her daddy that night, and wishes she hadn't. She knocks on the door of a paint chipped motel room with a half
hanging six on it, and waits. It takes a lot longer for Leroy to come to the door than usual, even though she's only seen him
a handful of times since the split.

But it's unnerving, so she just walks in.

And regrets it.

Leroy is stood, one leg poised in the air, pant leg at his knee as he pulls it up. It doesn't look like anything out of the
ordinary; mostly it looked like he'd been sleeping and was rushing to get changed, but she glances past his shoulder, into
the adjacent bathroom, and in the harsh glare of luminescent lights, she sees the reflection of a half naked man hiding
behind a shower curtain.
She doesn't cry, or sob, although she wants to.

"You're still seeing him?" She asks, and Leroy looks so devastated. His hands unclasp around his pants, sending them
slapping to the floor like a lead weight. He tries to get close to his only daughter, and he trips over the belt of his pants for
a second, but she doesn't let him get close because she's backing out of the still open door.
"Rach, honey, it's not what it looks like."

"Don't you love me or dad at all?"

She doesn't wait around for an answer, nor does she want to hear it.

Quinn is there, hours later, by the slide. She looks fine, snapping at small flies as they buzz past her snout. She does it to
pass the time, and usually it makes Rachel giggle, but the thought of laughing at anything just makes her want to shatter.
The wolf doesn't know she's there, so she just stands and watches, hands stuffed in the pockets of her grey zip up hoodie.
She hardly ever sees Quinn with her defences down, and it's quite intriguing. She looks care free, just enjoying herself in
the moment, but there's something different this time.

Quinn's jaw is snapping almost incessantly, like she's annoyed, or aggravated, and it set's Rachel's own teeth on edge.
Something isn't right; an intensity fills the air and it makes her want to bolt. But her feet remain planted, and before she can
even stop herself, she's clearing her throat.
Golden eyes shift to land on Rachel, and slowly Quinn walks toward her. She doesn't carry herself with the same grace
she usually does, in fact, if Rachel looks at her back right leg, she's limping, it's minor, but it's there.
"Where have you been?" Rachel asks accusingly, even though she knows she's not going to get an answer. But she just
asks, because she can, because she's pissed at everything and she just wants someone to lash out at.
But gold eyes just remain tracked on her, and Quinn's rump hits the floor with a loud thump. She swears she hears a whine
escape from the wolf's throat, but she just fobs it off; puts it down to the limp in Quinn's leg. Obviously she had been out
hunting and hurt herself or something; it's really none of her business, right?

"I've needed you, and you weren't there." Rachel passes by the stoic wolf and makes a bee line for the swings; she's safe
there, she's content there, she's just that little five year old girl that sat on the swings for hours a day just enjoying life.

Quinn doesn't follow. Half of her is surprised, but then again, it's like the other girl isn't even there. Her body is there, she's
sat right there, clear as day, fur shining in the moonlight, but her mind isn't. It's fleeting, just like the passing wind, and she's
worries.
"I just saw my daddy." She bites down on her inner cheek, "Leroy." Honestly, he doesn't deserve the title of daddy
anymore. It just hurts too fucking much. "He was with the man he cheated on my dad with."
It makes her smile, barely, because Quinn moves then. Closer. Closer. Closer until her head is in Rachel's lap, eyes wide
and pleading as she looks up. Rachel's hand automatically come to those flattered ears, and brushes her fingers past
them. She knows Quinn likes it, she's known since she first did it because that back leg twitches just a tiny bit and her tail
swishes with just a little extra pep.
"The last time I saw him he told me he regretted it." She had to look away, because looking at those golden eyes just
make her feel so much more raw, so naked, so exposed, and she hates it, even though she feels like she can be with
Quinn. But she doesn't feel safe right now, although her wolf is right there, close by, protecting her. "He just keeps lying to
me."
Quinn backs up slightly, and Rachel's hand moves back in reflex as she watches Quinn's front paws land on her thighs.
She's holding herself up so she's eye level, and Rachel melts. They're on the same level, no one is bigger than the other,
they both want to be equal.

But she can tell the wolf is in pain. It's small, but it's there, a tiny scowl on Quinn's long face. Her eyes usually sparkle, but
now they're just dull, and it's only then, looking down, she realizes Quinn is holding all her collective weight up on her dud
leg.
"Quinn, sit back down. You're hurting yourself." But she doesn't, and Rachel can't help but see red. So she does the only
thing she can do. She slams her flat palms against Quinn's chest, shoving her back down to the floor. It hurts her arms,
because it's like hitting a damn brick wall, but it works.

The wolf is back down on the ground, but she's whimpering, and something inside Rachel shatters.
"I..." She drops down from the swing and onto her knees, cupping the wolf's face in shaking hands, "I didn't do it because I
didn't like it. I did it because you're in pain." The wolf lets out a tiny whine, and Rachel feels tears prick the corner of her
eyes, because everything just hurts now, "Let me see...?"
Golden eyes search Rachel's face, until eventually, she sits back and kicks out her back leg slightly. The fur has been
frayed away slightly, it's bitten down and feels almost like straw to the touch. The usual pale skin beneath it is an angry red,
sore and aching. She touches it, barely; her fingertips just coast past the skin, but it's enough to make the wolf shoot back
in agony.
"I'm so sorry," The singer offers in recompense, "What happened to you?"

But the wolf just shakes it's head from side to side, then drops down and licks the aching wound. There's no blood, no
puncture wounds from the sign of a fight, but Quinn licks it anyway, almost as if she's trying to soothe it.

Rachel brushes her hand through the fur on Quinn's head, until eventually, Quinn's moving forward again and dropping her
head and Rachel's shoulder. It's a closeness that the two need, and they revel in it.

She watches Quinn at school the next day. The blonde seems fine, but she can tell something is wrong. Her beaming
smile was replaced with a minor upturn of her lips whenever Santana or Brittany say something funny, and her eyes don't
flash with that same intensity that they held before.

It's worrying, but she doesn't mention it, because after all, they're only friends, and all they do at school is say hello to each
other.

She regrets making the decision to take it slow, because now she feels as if she's just being left behind, and it kills her.
She already feels as if she's two steps behind everyone else around her, but she never did with Quinn; she always felt as if
they were both standing side by side, walking in tandem, taking each step together.
Now she was miles behind, screaming out for Quinn to just slow down.

Unfortunately, they're not working together in Glee. In fact, they're well across on opposite sides of the room. Quinn is
working with Mike, and they're talking animatedly. Then Mike pulls out his DS and everything just gets confusing because
Quinn looks so damn interested.

She's working with Kurt. It's like putting sand paper together, and they're hardly talking because he's too busy texting
Blaine on his phone to come up with ideas for a duet to sing. They work well, when they sing together, they always have,
even though that animosity still sits there between them, ever brewing and every rising whenever she wins a solo over him.

But they work.

"Can we please work on song ideas, please? I would like to start this century."
She sounds so short, and she can't help it, but it makes Kurt stare at her, then put his phone away. She's sounds like a
grade A bitch, but honestly, she could care less.

Quinn limps when she walks to her car, and that's when the final straw is all but ripped from Rachel's grasp. She's worried,
and Quinn hasn't even said hello to her all day even though they've been in the same damn room a few times and passed
in the halls half a dozen.
It irritates her, it enrages her; because the human connection between them is all but gone and the wolf connection is
slowly dwindling into nothingness. It needs to rectified, and now.
She stops the blonde at her car, when she's halfway leaning into her car to actually get into it. When she calls out Quinn's
name, it kind of looks like she's going to keep making the transition into the car, but eventually she pulls back, and drops
her forearms to the roof of her car.

"What's up?" She sounds so fucking calm.

"Why are you limping?" Rachel quickly glances around herself, "Your wolf was limping too. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," But the smile is so obviously forced, and false, and it just screams fake. "Just hurt my leg a little when I was out
hunting. No biggie."
Quinn Fabray could do anything the hell she wanted, but lying, was not one of them.

The calls from her daddy Leroy are becoming irritating. He calls every ten minutes, and every time, she lets it go to
voice mail. She doesn't want to talk to him, nor does she want to hear his lies anymore.
He told her more than once that he regretted it, that he would never do it again, that he loved his husband and her with
every fibre of his being. She believed him at the time, but now, sitting at the desk in her room, staring at the display of her
phone as it flashes 'Leroy' not 'daddy' anymore, because he doesn't deserve that privilege, she wouldn't be able to believe
him even if he took a lie detector test.

Leroy Berry ruined his chances, that much was for certain.
"Can you please answer the phone?"

The voice is so defeated behind her, but still so caring.

"I don't want to." She returns to her laptop, logging into MySpace because it's been months since she uploaded a new
video, "I just can't."
"And why not?"

And she just breaks down, because she has to lie, because the thought of seeing her dad just collapse with grief over the
fact that Leroy was still fucking that bastard from work, was just too much to bare.

She hasn't stopped crying since leaving the house, and she's still crying when she plonks herself down on the swing.
Quinn is there, looking a bit better; meaning she isn't limping as much anymore. But the wolf looks concerned, and she
has every right to be because the brunette before her can't even breathe as she chokes out sobs.

"Why does it have to happen to me?" She cries, "Is it my fault?"

So she tells the whole story to a wolf that sits there, calmly, licking her hand softly in a gesture that's so damn comforting it
breaks her heart.
She doesn't want to leave, but she has to, because it's almost four am, and she needs at least some sleep if she's going
to make it into school tomorrow.

Quinn isn't there at school the next day, which is understandable, because the girl is probably exhausted from staying up
so late with her. She's flagging as it is, and she barely makes it, bleary eyed through the school day.

Finn just makes her day harder, all but constantly begging her to take him back. She just decides to ignore him, and it
seems to do the trick, because during fourth period, he backs off and doesn't speak to her for the rest of the day.

She takes a nap in the nurses office during lunch, which she's never done before, but Noah offers the choice to her,
because he noticed she was dragging her feet down the halls to her next class.

He's caring, and he sounds genuinely worried as he asks her what's wrong. The Jewish community is tight, he says, and
he's always going to look out for a fellow Jew. So he escorts her to the nurse's office and sits with her until she falls
asleep, which is all within the space of ten minutes.

Hiram is on the phone when she gets home. He's pacing the living room, staring at the ground as he listens to whoever is
on the other end of the line, and she's only just walked into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge when she
hears her dad disconnect from the call and lunge for his car keys.
"Where are you going?" She asks as he rips on his jacket.

"Work." The hospital, he's a doctor, and a damn fine one at that. "There's been an animal attack of some kind."
Rachel instantly panics. It can't be.

"Who was attacked?"

Hiram shrugs his shoulders, "Someone that your father works with."
And then she just knows.

Quinn isn't at the park, nor did Rachel expect her to be. So she rips her phone from her jacket pocket and dials her
number instead.
It takes a few second, but eventually a groggy Quinn is on the other side, "Hello?"
"Come to the park." And she disconnects, because she honestly can't deal with any questions right now. She's too fucking
enraged and worried she'll say something she'll regret.

By the time Quinn arrives, she's calmed down, slightly, but she's calmer than she was before. And she's not in wolf form,
so in a way, it kind of just solidifies her suspicions. The blonde knows why she was called to the park on a night when they
weren't suppose to meet, and the look of resignation in her eyes is proof of that.
"You attacked the man Leroy cheated on my dad with." It's not a question, it's an accusation, and she just barks out a
laugh when Quinn looks away.
"How could you do that, Quinn?" She screams, clenched fists shaking at her sides, "Did I once tell you that I wanted you to
hurt him?"
"He deserved it." Quinn mumbles, still looking away because she can't bare to look at the look of Rachel's disappointment
in her eyes, "He destroyed your family. Thanks to him you cry every night and for once I realized I could do something
about it."

"No, Quinn."
Hazel eyes slide to Rachel's warily, "What?"
"Leroy destroyed my family. Not him." She scoffs out and laugh and rubs her palms across her face, "Oh God, Quinn, what
have you done?"

"I was just trying to protect you."

And she was. It was killing her seeing Rachel cry every damn night, and with her wolf just crying out for revenge, she had to
give in. So she went to that fucking motel and watched that guy leave; that skinny, light haired, blue eyed bastard and
tracked him all the way back to his house.

To where his wife was, to where his two children were sleeping serenely in their beds without a care in the world. So when
he got out of the car, she lunged at him, ripped at his arms as they flailed, trying to protect his face. She bit down and
ripped and it felt so heavenly good so she kept doing it, and doing it, and doing it, until eventually she heard the tell-tale
signs of footsteps from within the house.

So she fled, and she licked the blood from her chops as she watched from behind some bushes as the cheating bastard's
poor wife emerged from the house and just screamed.

"How bad was it?" Rachel's back is to her now, and she contemplates lying, because after all, the singer can't see her
eyes. But she can't, because after everything Rachel has been through, she doesn't need another lie stacked upon an
already teetering tower.
"He bled out, a lot." She swallows in reflex; she feels sick but her wolf just feels so fucking proud, "I just...he has a wife and
two kids and..."
"Let him ruin his own life, Quinn. Don't you dare think that because of what he did he deserved to be attacked." Rachel
turns, eyes blazing, "They're going to be looking for you now, Quinn. Are you happy? Are you satisfied?"

She clenches her jaw, because she is. She so is, and her wolf wants her to know it.

Russell Fabray is watching the local news when he finds out. Rod Remington is oddly quiet as he tells of an animal attack
that happened the previous day. It's not until he's heard everything about the man, Michael Hunter's, wounds; an almost
mutilated right arm, skin ripped clear off his left and almost bleeding to death, that Rod tells the public, and Russell
Fabray, that the police think a rouge wolf was to blame.
"What the hell was she thinking?" He all but screams as he slams his fists down on his knees, "Why the hell did she
attack?"
"We don't know it's Quinn, Russ. It could be another wolf."

"I know each and every wolf in Lima, Judy." He replies, voice cold, "Not one of them would attack a defenceless human
being."
Judy clutches the glass of water in her hands like a lifeline, "Do you think it's because-,"

At her husband's glare, she just feels a sense of doom impact on her. Her daughter, her baby daughter could have killed a
man, simply because she could.

When Quinn gets home from school, her father picks her up, throws her over his shoulder and stomps up the stairs. Before
she even knows it, she's locked in her room. Her mother and father out in the hall, murmuring to one another in hushed
tones.

"What's going on?" She screams, fist bashing down hard on her door, "Why are you locking me in here?"
"You almost killed a man, Quinn!" Russell shouts from behind the door, and Quinn slumps in defeat, "I thought you had
taken control of your wolf, but it seems you haven't. You're on lock down in your room until you sort yourself out."
"It wasn't because of my wolf, dad!"

"Don't you dare lie to me! You are the disappointment here!"

She sobs and collapses to the floor, back to her bed, knees up, arms wrapped clean around them in comfort. She just
wanted to help.

Rachel goes to see Leroy, because, in a way, she blames herself for Michael Hunter's attack. She was the one that put
the thought indirectly through Quinn's head, and it makes her restless, so she pulls on some flats and heads to the motel.

Leroy is there, looking visibly shaken, but he smiles when he sees his daughter on the other side of the door.
He sits on the bed, freshly made, it doesn't look like it's been slept in, and she stands in front of him. She doesn't deserve
to be comfortable, not now.
"I take it you heard...?" Leroy asks quietly and Rachel just nods because her voice doesn't seem to want to work all of a
sudden, "Karma has a way of coming back to haunt you, doesn't it?"

He chuckles, and it dies it before it's even begun, and he's sobbing, and so is she, because her daddy is destroyed, just
like the rest of them.

Judy comes into her room from time to time, just to ask if she wants anything; food, drinks, magazines, movies. She asks
for the same thing, to be let go, but it's the one thing her mother can't do.

Her father is at work, so she has to try and beg her mother, but it doesn't work, it never works. She's so close to giving up
when Judy walks in, doesn't even look at her, places a steaming bowl of soup down on the bedside table, along with a
bottle of water and asks if she wants anything else. She asks to be let go, but Judy just walks out and locks the door
behind her.

The look of disappointment just shatters her.

Rachel was in the shower when her phone rang. She half expected it to be Leroy, so she just lets the call die out. But then
it becomes incessant, and she's halfway through towel drying her hair when she just gives up and picks up her phone
that's laying face down on her bed.
Quinn's name flashes across the screen, blinking, almost like morse code, a silent declaration for forgiveness. An
invitation to talk.
She turns her phone off.

Quinn hasn't gone to school in two weeks; people ask questions, especially each and every member of the Glee Club.
They even turn to Rachel and ask for information, but she just shrugs and shakes her head.
She knows nothing, why should she?

A week later, Michael Hunter is released from hospital and allowed to return home. Rachel's cell remains turned off,
indefinitely, because when she turned it on a few days ago she was flooded with eighty-two texts, sixty-eight missed calls
and just as many voice mails.

She goes to the Hunter household, worrying herself into an early grave because for some reason she thinks the man's
dried blood is going to still cake the driveway. There is none, it's clean, water blasted clean in fact, but she still can't help
the wave of sickness that rushes through her.
Her hand is clenched and poised to knock, ready to spew out words of forgiveness, when she just stops and runs away.
She can't do it. She can't see his scars. She can't see what Quinn did to that man.
She's halfway down the street when she stops and throws up in a rose bush.

Quinn is out of her room. Russell is glued to her side at all times. She's still not allowed to leave the house, and she's
beginning to go a little crazy because of it. She tells him, over and over again that she did it because Rachel was upset;
that the man needed to be taught a lesson, but Russell has none of it and blanks his daughter.
Until one day, four am in the morning, he's tearing into her room and demanding she gets up.

Bleary eyed, still half asleep, she does as he says, and before she knows it, she's in the back of his Mercedes, on the
road out of Lima. She doesn't ask any questions, because she knows he won't answer them; so she's quiet and sedate.

They pull up in the forest where they hunt, and for a brief, happy second she thinks they're going to hunt; that everything will
go back to normal.

But Russell is ripping himself free from the car and calling her to follow him. She's glad she isn't being manhandled, and
trusted enough to not bolt in the opposite direction, so she follows his lead and follows him into the woods.

Eventually, they make a clearing, and Russell is stripping his shirt off.
"Dad...?"

He turns and faces her, "I need to be sure." He drops his shirt to the floor and cracks his neck in preparation, "So fight
me."

They faught once before, and lost, miserably, with only a bum leg as proof of her loss. He'd gone easy on her then,
because he never really wanted to hurt his own daughter, but the way he's looking at her now, just proves to her that he
isn't fucking around anymore.
He needs to make sure.

"Dad..."
"Your wolf should be twice as strong as mine. Prove me to me that I'm right. Prove to me that my daughter is an Alpha."

Her bones begin to crack before she even has time to stop it.

The reason why her wolf is strong, is because she's an Alpha. She always believed, when she was growing up, that her
dad was the Alpha, the leader, the stronghold that kept their family together.

She was proven wrong when her father sat her down, sat her down in his chair and told her that he never has, and never
will be, an Alpha. He told her, clear as day, that the only reason why her wolf is so strong, so feral, so hard to control, is the
fact that she was an Alpha.
The leader of the pack.

The urges, along with the ferocity of Alpha blood, made it ten times as hard to control her wolf. At first she thought she was
dying, that her wolf was just taking over her body, and in a way, it still was, but she'd managed to sustain it, to hold it within
her, caged, controlled.
But now, as she lunges at her father's throat, it wasn't caged anymore. Her father, three times the size of her, lunged right
back and ripped at her front leg, trying to pin her down. It was ferocious, and deadly, and she felt like she would die
because her father wasn't going to go easy on her.

So she snapped at him, slammed her body into his and pushed him to the ground. Her jaw was clenched onto his throat;
she could feel the fur under her tongue, feel the tiny droplets of blood that threatened to flow free.

But she stops, slowly lets go of her dad's throat and backs off.
A silver wolf, three times the size of her golden wolf, staggers to it's feet.
And bows in defeat.

She's back at school a week later, after the bruises from the fight with her dad finally disappear.

Her wolf, her Alpha wolf, is the leader of the family. But when she's a human, her father is still the leader of their family.
That will never change, nor does Quinn want it to. His wolf retreated and bowed in defeat, the clean cut action that proves
to another wolf that they're better, more worthy, stronger.
She's still in shock that she's actually an Alpha, and that it was proved. It's a huge deal, someone like her, an Alpha? Her
dad seemed more like the type, but her? It's a huge shock to the system, and even a week after the fact, her mind is still
reeling from it.
Rachel is in the choir room, sat on the risers, eyes scanning her notebook when Quinn walks in. They haven't spoken or
seen each other in weeks, and just seeing the brunette makes her heart ache so perfectly because my God, she'd
forgotten how beautiful she was.

"Hey," She offers gently, still standing by the door, waiting to be offered the chance to enter. She wasn't going to take
anything by chance. She was an Alpha, but not an asshole. She knows Rachel is still hurt, still wounded by her betrayal; so
she lets the brunette call the shots.
"Hi." The singer offers shortly, looking up and shutting her notebook, "Where have you been?"

"I was uh..." She points her thumb over her shoulder at the door, and Rachel nods. So she shuts the door, "Locked in my
room for a few weeks, because of the attack."

"Your parents realized it was you, then?"

Quinn nods, throat dry.
"Why were you locked in your room?"
"They thought my wolf couldn't be controlled." She hears Rachel scoff, but she doesn't take it to heart, because it's the
truth, "I've been having trouble with it for about a month and a half now. At first I thought it was because of the urges I told
you about, but...I found out it was because of something else."

Rachel's leaning forward, because she's intrigued, and she's worrying, because is Quinn sick or something? She doesn't
know what to think, and the way the blonde is shuffling from foot to foot, hand clenching and unclenching around the strap
of her bag, makes her believe something is wrong.
"Something else?" She prompts, when the blonde doesn't seem to want to continue.

"You know what an Alpha is, right?"

"Highest rank within an animal society, right?"

"In a nutshell." She's walking forward, hesitantly, and Rachel doesn't seem to mind, so she doesn't stop until she's at the
bottom riser, "My dad proved to me that I was an Alpha, and my wolf was assuring it's dominance by making it harder to
control."
"But your a girl."

Quinn chuckles gently, "Believe it or not, in werewolves, it doesn't really matter whether an Alpha is a male or female."
"Oh..." Rachel packs away her notebook, and Quinn watches, hazel eyes watching each and every move; the way the
brunette's muscles flex in her arms, the way her fingers twitch when they pull the zipper on her bag.
"That's the only reason why I attacked that man so violently. My wolf, it took over me, and I had no way of controlling it."

The singer stands, shouldering her bag, "I'll admit, it makes sense, but it still doesn't change the fact that you did it."
She wants to shout, to tell Rachel to try and control this primal fucking thing inside her, but she doesn't; she bites down on
her bottom lip and watches as Rachel descends towards her.
"That man is scarred for life. Leroy is hurt, he's still hurting. My dad feels twice as worse because now he knows that
Michael is the one that played a part in ending his marriage. I'm hurting, so much, because indirectly I put the thought in
your head that I wanted him hurt."

"Please don't blame yourself," She begs, cupping Rachel's face in her hands. The skin of her hands is rough, and she
knows Rachel feels it from the way she flinches, but when the singer's hands raise up and clasp onto hers at her cheeks,
something just clicks. "It's not your fault. It's my damn wolf."
"Don't just blame this on your wolf, Quinn." She whispers softly, pressing a soft kiss to Quinn's palm, "You're to blame too."
The bell shrills throughout the choir room, and Rachel steps back.

"I know."

Russell lets her go out on a night again, but only when he's confident that Quinn can control her wolf. It's hard, and it takes
a lot of training and meditation, and pure hunting to calm and control it. But she does it.
And when Russell smiles at her, kisses her on the forehead and tells her he's proud of her; it's worth it.

She texts Rachel two hours before midnight and asks if she wants to meet at the park, just to try and get a sense of
normality back into their routine. To go back to how it was before the attack.
She gets a text back twenty minutes later.

It's better I don't.

She tries again two days later, and this time, she begs.

Quinn...maybe another time, okay?

They talk at school, of course they do, they're friends. Each and every day they get closer, and she realizes that the only
reason why Rachel doesn't want to meet her at the park is because of one reason and one reason alone.
"Why won't you meet me anymore?" She asks softly when she finds Rachel in the auditorium, eating her lunch, sat at the
piano.
"Honestly?" Rachel asks, only after swallowing part of her sandwich, "I'm terrified."

Rachel is terrified of the wolf that she once sought comfort in.
And it kills Quinn.

"You're floundering," Russell comments as he walks the living room after work, hands already working at the constricting
tie at his neck, "I could hear your thoughts three streets away."
Quinn sighs and continues to flick through the channels. She eventually stops on a home shopping channel because
suddenly mops are fascinating.
"Rachel is scared of your wolf?" Quinn nods, "Because she knows your an Alpha?"

"It's not that." She shuffles in her seat, suddenly uncomfortable on the $2000 dollar suite, "I think she still sees me as the
wolf that ripped Michael Hunter a new one."

Russell sits down beside her, wraps his arm around her shoulder and kisses her temple, "Then re-introduce her to the new
and improved wolf."

Rachel finds out from Leroy that Michael's medical bills are through the roof. His insurance doesn't cover animal attacks.
Leroy is distraught, Rachel's angry, so she texts Quinn and asks her if she's happy, sarcastically of course, because she
has no one else to let all that anger out on.

How much?
Rachel texts back, $15,000.

She doesn't hear from Quinn again.

Leroy calls her the next morning, excited, almost jubilated because someone donated $15,000 dollars to the Hunter's as
charity to pay for Michael's medical bills. Rachel asks if they know who paid, but Leroy says it was from an anonymous
donor.

Rachel texts Quinn, thank you.

Quinn texts back seconds later.

Anything to make you proud of me again.

Quinn is leaving the locker room after gym class when she finds Rachel waiting for her. It's a shock to say the least,
because it's been two days since they last text one another.
But Rachel looks happy and a little shy, "Hey."
"Hey."

"Where did you get $15,000 from...?"

Quinn shrugs her shoulders, "College fund. My mom and dad have been putting bits away since when I first born so..."

"How much do you have left?"

"Around $2000."

Rachel nods, suddenly solemn, "What about college?"

"I'll find a way to New York."

And the singer beams, because even though they haven't talked about it, Quinn will follow her to New York, regardless of
what happens.

Meet me at the park.

Why?
I want you to meet my wolf again.
Quinn...don't.
I just...give it a chance, okay? It's new, and improved. I'm calmer, I can control it fully now. I've been training everyday
for you.
Quinn.
Please, Rach. Please?
And if I say no?
You'll find an Alpha wolf clambering through your bedroom window a little past midnight.
And if I lock my window?
I'll whine until you open it.
You're a pain.
I don't mean to be.
But you are.
Then I apologize, but I won't stop asking until you say yes.
Sometime soon, maybe.
I'll hold you to that. Goodnight, Rachel xxx
Goodnight.

Meet me at the park?

It's been one day.
And my wolf wants to see you.
So it can attack me?

I didn't mean that, I apologize. A reflex.

I understand. Another time then. Goodnight, Rachel xxx
Goodnight.

Meet me at the park?

You won't give up will you?
Not until you say yes.
Not tonight.
Okay, goodnight, Rachel xxx
Goodnight, Quinn.

Meet me at the park?

I told you this at school, Quinn, only four hours ago, that it's a no.
That was human, Quinn. You're talking to wolf Quinn, now.
Since when did wolves grow thumbs?
Four hours ago. Please?
Another time, okay? It's still too raw.
Okay. Goodnight, Rachel. Xxx

Quinn continues to ask her at school, when they're alone, when they're in Glee Club surrounded by friends. Even in the
middle of a group number when they were singing a particularly touching ballad because Mr. Schuester realized he was
really going to become a father thanks to Emma Pillsbury.

She was incessant, but Rachel found it hard to be annoyed by it. Honestly, it was endearing, and touching, and sweet,
because Quinn had this look like a lost puppy whenever she asked, and she realized it was just getting too damn hard to
say no anymore.
So when she gets a text, an hour after saying goodbye to Quinn in the parking lot, does she really think hard.

Meet me at the park?

It's the same question. The same question that haunts her day and night because it's the only thing Quinn says to her
anymore. So she sits there, and thinks about it, the pad of her thumb brushing over the keys of her keypad.

Why?
She knows why, but she just likes hearing it.

My wolf misses you. It misses you talking, it misses you swinging on that damn swing, it misses you giggling whenever
it snorts. I miss sitting there and letting my wolf revel in how it feels for you.
Her heart swoons, and tears prick her eyes, because my God, Quinn could be a fucking poet.

Okay.
Okay?
Okay.
Midnight then.
Midnight.
*Chapter 3*: Dawn
She hunts before she sees Rachel. She has to. When she had received the text back from Rachel telling her that they
could finally meet, she bounced across her bedroom like a school girl, her wolf however, howled until it's throat was sore.
It wasn't a good sign, and she knew it. Having such a long gap between seeing Rachel both as a human and as a wolf,
didn't bode well. Her wolf wanted the closeness again, to smell Rachel, to see Rachel, to touch Rachel.
The urge was coming back full force, and it didn't help the fact that she was an Alpha now. Her Alpha dominated her
subconscious; it made her want to do unexplainable things to Rachel, whether she liked it or not, and she just wasn't
willing to take that risk.

So she hunts, and she hunts, and she hunts; and it's a good few hours before she finally sits her rump down and just
relaxes. The wolf inside her is sated, for now, so hopefully it's a good sign that she can see the brunette that controls her
life indirectly without doing something she would regret.
She showers, a long cold shower, and only gets out when she's completely chilled to the bone, teeth chattering, skin just
aching from the cold. She pulls on a pair of shorts and a shirt, from a drawer that she keeps all her disposable clothes in
because when she transforms they tend to just rip to shreds anyway.

Russell Fabray is downstairs, in the living room, watching Glenn Beck on the TV when she bounces down the stairs. He
looks up to his daughter and just smiles, because for the first time in a pretty long while, she's finally smiling like she
means it.

They haven't spoken about her Alpha dominance since the fight; since he bowed down in front of his own daughter and
conceded that she was the stronger wolf. It was still something that he was trying to get over, because yes, of course, he's
kind of humiliated, what father or man wouldn't? A man in his early fifties, a wolf that's just as strong and proud as it was
the first time it showed itself, is defeated by an almost eighteen year old girl that's was born with the privilege of an Alpha.
He didn't believe it, when the thought first passed through his mind; because Quinn is still only a child, and in his eyes, he'll
always be that little girl that he used to take to baseball games and hold in his arms as she slept. She was still that girl. But
now, as he watches her bounce into the kitchen, all but demolish a cupcake that Judy had baked earlier on in the day, he
can see that glint in her eye; that hidden power that he's never seen before.
His daughter is stronger than him, faster than him, that much was for certain. She was the leader of their pack; the one that
dealt with the issues in their hierarchy. It's a shock to the system, and half of him doesn't want to believe it; his wolf half,
because it's still licking its wounds after being defeated. But he's proud; damn proud to have an Alpha in his family, in the
whole of Lima, and it's his daughter no less.
"We have visitors tomorrow." He states simply, muting the TV, "They'll be here when you get home from school."

"Who is it?" Quinn asks, mumbling around the destroyed remnants of her second cupcake.
"Alfred Noble and his wife."

Alfred Noble, an eighty year old octogenarian that keyed himself as the leader of the Lima wolves. No one complained, of
course, because Alfred was a trusted and noble man, just like his name would suggest, and at the age of eighty, his wolf
was still one of the strongest in the town.

His wife, wasn't a werewolf.

So when Quinn hears the name, she walks out of the kitchen, third cupcake in her hand, "Why are they coming here? Is
something the matter?"

"Oh no..." Russell waves his hand over his shoulder, "They just want to see my daughter, an Alpha." He sounds so proud,
and she smiles shyly at the tone in his voice. "And of course, Cybil wants to talk to you about your urges."

Talking to a seventy-seven year old woman about urges? When she wasn't a werewolf?
No. Thank. You.

"Uh, do I have to?" Russell frowns, "I mean, I have nothing against them both it's just..." She shrugs her shoulders and
starts dipping the tip of her index finger in the red frosting of her cupcake, "Why does Cybil have to talk to me about
urges? I thought I'd learnt everything from you."

"Well you have," Russell stands from the couch and adjusts the waistband of his striped blue pyjama pants, "But Cybil isn't
a werewolf, Quinn. She can give you insight into how to deal with urges around someone who isn't a wolf, or transcends
from werewolf blood."
"Oh." She takes a huge bite of her cupcake, massacring three quarters of it in her mouth before stuffing the rest in, "Okay
then, I guess."
She watches her father cringe, and she fights back a snort, "Sorry."
Crumbs fly from her mouth and Russell just rolls his eyes, "You might be a wolf, but you're not a pig." He circles the couch
and dots a kiss to her forehead, "No staying out too late. I don't mind on the weekends, but school nights? No."
She nods, "Sure thing dad." Although she knows full well she probably won't get back into the house going on five or six
am. Even then, she won't sleep, she'll just shower, put on a fresh set of clothes and be out the door an hour later for school.
She's done it before, plenty of times; in fact, it's like her sleep cycle doesn't exist since seeing Rachel Berry on that swing
in an abandoned park past midnight.
She isn't shocked when she realizes she doesn't care though.

So she watches her father depart upstairs to join his wife in bed, and she leaves it a little while until she hears the soft click
of his bedroom door. Glancing at the clock, it's just past eleven, and with a nervous smile, she leaves the house.

She must have gotten faster or something, with realizing she's an Alpha, because she gets to the park twenty minutes
before midnight. The run was fast, exhilarating, the wind brushed through her fur like it never had before, her eyes poised
to each passing obstacle as she leaped over them like they were nothing.

She's half tempted just to transform back into a human just to gloat and say, "Fuck yeah." but she just sits in the line of
trees opposite the swing, out of the way, in the shadows, just waiting.

There's a hunt going on. Still going on. For the wolf that attacked Michael Hunter outside his house. It'd been a month
since his attack, but the police chief flat out refused to give up until the 'menace' was caught and dealt with.

The Fabray's had been eating dinner together, the TV playing quietly in the background when Quinn had heard it. Rod
Remington and his half drunk, cheap as plastic co-presenter sitting beside him, face morbid.

"In other news, the Lima Police Department are still in the midst of a search for the rouge wolf that attacked Michael
Hunter, a charity worker for the West Ohio Food Bank, one month ago. Residents around the area of the attack are being
told to stay indoors, in case of another attack. No sightings have been reported. If anyone has any information-,"
Judy had risen from her seat and switched off the TV before looking apprehensively back at her husband and daughter.

Quinn just toyed with the green beans on her plate, Russell just sipped at his water.
The attack on Michael Hunter was a distant memory; one they were trying to completely forget about. Quinn had been
going through a tough time, and because of her urges to protect Rachel and her family, she had lashed out. That's what
they agreed upon, and they agreed not to speak about it.

But it didn't stop the search parties every other night. It was small groups of people, around three or so to a group, heavy
duty flash lights in hand and one gun to the group leader. Quinn had seen them one time; she had just come back from a
long run out of a town, just trying to wear herself out after another day of no text or call from Rachel.
They were calm as they scoped out undergrowth, bushes; anything that a wolf could make it's home in. And she saw the
gun, a hunting rifle, complete with scope, that scared the living fuck out of her. Her wolf had seen red and almost lashed
out, but just as her front paw went to touch the ground to run, she managed to stop herself.

She slunk off into the shadows instead, and decided that late night runs were a thing of the past while the hunting groups
were out.

Her wolf doesn't want to hide; it's made that completely clear. It wants to be proud, wants to show it's dominance within the
society. But it can't, and for some reason, Quinn can feel the resentment it holds toward her human side. Two sides of her,
two sides of her that make a whole, are warring simply because they see themselves going down two different roads.
It's infuriating and she doesn't know how to deal with it. She wants to blame it on the fact she's an Alpha, but honestly, it's
just because as a human or a wolf, she's an arrogant bitch. No use denying it, no use trying to sugar coat it. She's
arrogant. She gets it from her dad. Even her damn mother tells her that.

Her wolf huffs, almost by itself when she tells it to calm down; it wants to move, it wants to sit by the slide and snap at small
flies, it wants to rush down the street and meet Rachel half way.
Half way? She sniffs, long and hard, and there...mildly, just faintly, she can smell it. That smell that makes her heart
palpitate in her chest, the smell that makes her want to do somersaults in the air, the smell that makes her feel like she's
coming home.

But...then it's disappearing again. She sniffs again; she can hardly smell it anymore. Her wolf wants to howl, but instead it
takes off in a run, and Quinn is right there controlling each step because she's worrying something has happened to that
brunette singer that makes her feel alive.
She's on the street, on an intersection between two streets, and Rachel is just rounding a corner, away from the park,
back towards her house.
Quinn deflates, rump slamming down against the concrete pavement; she left her, high and dry, she just left her. She
howls; she howls because her body just fucking aches and if she would, she'd cry, because since Rachel took the first
step and agreed to the meeting, she just assumed everything would be okay.

But she was wrong, and Rachel's scent is all but gone, and she's left alone in the middle on an empty street, just mourning
and whimpering.

She makes it home just as the sun is coming up. Dawn. It should be something magical for her; something that makes her
heart want to sing because she spent the entire night with Rachel Berry.
But she's just empty, and that fucking glow over the horizon just mocks her.

Her phone is on the bedside table, one new message. Half of her is tempted not to read the message at all; but she
needs to. She needs to read it.

So she does.
And she wishes she hadn't. She just collapses to the bed with exhaustion and falls into a restless sleep.

I just can't.

She's an hour late to school, even though her mom gave her four different wake up calls. She was awake, but the thought
of getting out of bed just made her want to fall back to sleep again. The energy is there, but the will isn't.

But she does it, eventually, after crawling on all fours to the shower. She's out the door and arrives at school just in time for
her second class. Her Math book is pulled from her bag when she realizes she just missed a period with Rachel.

She mourns the loss, her wolf is just enraged, and she hates it.

They don't see each other at all. Not in lessons, not at lunch, not in the auditorium or in the choir room during free periods.
There's nothing, and Quinn isn't surprised if Rachel isn't at school at all. The singer probably realized she would be pissed
and made as wide a berth as possible between the two.
But then she's there, when Quinn walks in to Glee, sat beside Finn who is just grinning at her like she's the answer to the
meaning of life. Rachel glances at her, when she walks in, but then the look is gone, and honestly, it couldn't be more half
assed if the singer tried.

So she stomps to her chair, beside Santana and Brittany and clenches her fists. She makes it through the whole of Glee;
an hour of just watching Finn put his paws all over her woman, and she's so fucking enraged she keeps wanting to dive
over the chairs between them and just rip his already minuscule brain out from his nostrils.
Her wolf is contained, that urge is contained, but by the time the meeting is over, she has to go to the nurse's office and
have the palms of her hands bandaged.

The nurse doesn't ask questions, which is nice; but then again, she looks like she can't be bothered dealing with a minor
injury. So she cleans the welts Quinn's fingernails made, but the blonde can see the shock in the nurses eyes when she
sees how deep they actually went into the skin.
"It's almost down to the muscle..." The nurse tuts and grabs a roll of bandages, "You need to be a lot more careful next
time, Miss Fabray. Do you understand?"
She just nods, because she really can't be bothered being reprimanded by a woman who's medical training probably
consists of being able to perform CPR on a dummy. But she sits there, patiently, and watches the nurse bandage her up.
"Try to keep the pressure off your hands for a little while. Give them time to heal." Quinn just rolls her eyes, because she's
a wolf, and they tend to heal a lot faster than any human, but whatever, the nurse doesn't need to know that.
She leaves, only just stopping herself from slamming the door of the nurse's office shut when she lands eyes on Rachel,
who is stood on the opposite side of the hallway, book clutched in her hand by her side.
Quinn wants to ignore her, to walk away, just like she had last night but instead she says, "What?" She sounds miffed, fuck
she is miffed, so she lets it show, and from the way Rachel flinches, she knows she's got that point across.
"Did you receive my text?"
She stared at it while eating breakfast this morning, of course she did, "Yeah."

"I am sorry for that." Rachel frowns slightly, "For bailing on you like that. It wasn't my intention at all." She walks forward,
just a step before coming to a stop again, because Quinn is radiating this whole 'stay the fuck away from me' aura, so she
abides by it. "I had to stay at home. My dad needs me a lot more now that Leroy has gone."
Oh...she didn't. Her wolf is screaming to the front of her mind, and she just sighs, because she's so disappointed. She
looks to her feet, because if she looks at Rachel, all she'll see is a liar.
"You're lying." She growls, eyes still trained to Rachel's Mary Jane's.

"I-I assure you I'm-,"

Quinn's head snaps up so fast her neck actually aches, "Don't lie to me. I've never lied to you, so please don't lie to me."

Rachel bites down on her bottom lip, and she shifts from one foot to the other, and that's when Quinn knows she's given up
trying to lie to her.

"I just...couldn't. I was almost there and then I just thought about Michael being attacked and-,"

"I would never attack you!" Her eyes are glowing, and Rachel sees them flicker from hazel to golden, just like the wolf she
used to know. Quinn's face is right there, almost nose to nose, and she feels the blonde's breath on her lips as she heaves
breaths in and out.

She's scared, my god she's fucking terrified.

"Quinn, you're scaring me."

The blonde backs off, and Rachel takes a deep breath with relief although her body is still tense as she watches Quinn.
The girl's body is thrumming with a hidden energy, and it frightens her, because indirectly, she knows what sort of power
Quinn holds.
"I didn't mean to," Her throat bobs as she swallows, "I'm sorry, but...it just hurts when you think I would hurt you like that,
Rachel."
"You told me you couldn't control your..." She lowers her voice, even though they're alone, "Wolf, and that's why you
attacked him. I...give you these urges, correct? What's to say your wolf won't just take over again without your go ahead?"
And she's stumped, because honestly, it's the truth. It's hard enough as it is being this close to Rachel right now, just
inches away from one another. She smells so fantastically good, and all she wants to do is pin her up against the wall and
take her. Her bandaged hands clench and unclench by her sides.

"I'm more controlled now, Rachel. I already told you that. I train everyday with my dad just so I can be close to you." She
steps forward, and Rachel, in reflex, steps back, putting her back to the wall. She doesn't seem to regret the move though,
which makes Quinn relax a little, but not by much. "That time...when I kissed you?"
Rachel opens her mouth to say 'yes, I remember, because it made me feel things I thought I'd never feel' but nothing
comes out. She flounders, and Quinn smiles, and her hazel eyes look so warm and inviting.
"I so wanted to keep going..." Rachel watches as Quinn's eyes quickly dash to her lips, before locking back on her eyes,
"My wolf was crying out for me to keep going, to keep kissing you, to finally take what I'd wanted for so long." She braces
her right arm, palm flat against the wall beside Rachel's head, and instinctively, Rachel swallows, because she feels as if
she's barred in, and Quinn's lips are that much closer.

"Your point...?" Rachel asks, shocked by how breathy her voice is. Quinn smiles softly, leaning closer until her nose bumps
against Rachel's, so gently and tenderly, "Quinn..."
"I can smell you, and my wolf is howling so loudly in my head right now because it wants you. It's so primal, and raw and it's
killing me..." Then she smiles, "But I'm calm, right?"
Rachel lost track of the conversation at primal. It makes her feel so good, because for once in her life, someone wants her
so badly, so intimately, that it drives them wild. She leans forward, because the need is there, so she goes through with it,
and her quivering lips brush against Quinn's.

They just brush, so softly together, memorizing the softness of one another's lips, how they part for air, how Rachel gasps
when Quinn raises her other arm to lock her against the wall. She's testing the waters, and Quinn knows this, so she
allows it and she lets Rachel take the lead. She won't take what she wants. Not until Rachel tells her to take it.
"Meet me at the park."

She shouldn't, she can't, because Quinn is a human right now, and who knows what might happen when she's in wolf form.
But the blonde sound so sure, so confident; like she knows that everything is going to be okay, and she's trying to tell
Rachel that.

The message gets through, and with one last brush of her lips against Quinn's, she whispers, "Okay."

Just like Russell had said, Alfred and Cybil Noble are at the house when she gets home from school. Alfred, a skinny
almost frail looking man is sat beside his wife at the dinner table, in the midst of a joke that he's telling Judy. She looks
amused, highly amused, but then again, Judy is a good actress when she wants to be.
"Ah, Quinnie!" Judy bolts from her seat and smiles at her daughter, "I was wondering when you'd get home." Quinn
finished school an hour ago, and half an hour of that was spent with Rachel, their lips connected, so close to kissing. It
took fifteen minutes to stop the heavy pounding of her heart, and another fifteen on the drive home to calm the almost
whimpering howl of her wolf.
"Sorry. I had stuff to do at school," And her manners come into play, because she smiles, extends her hand and offers it to
Alfred Noble. His grey eyes flicker from Quinn's eyes, right to hand and he frowns, "Oh...uh."
"What happened to your hand, Quinn...?" Judy asked, rounding the table to grab the youngest Fabray's hand, "Did you get
into a fight?" It's just a general question, but there's an undertone that's only understood between the two women. Judy
asked, 'did you get into a fight?' what was really asked was 'did you attack someone again?'

"No mom, just my urges."

It was. Partly.

Alfred's eyebrows draw together, which isn't hard to do, because it's like two giant caterpillars have taken up shop on his
forehead, "Your father told me you're an Alpha."

Quinn diverts her attention to him. He's sat there, content as can be while his wife sits beside him, stirring her tea with a
slightly shaking hand, "Yes sir."

"None of this sir business," He gives a flick of his wrist, and then he's standing up, patting his wife so softly on the
shoulders as he moves around table, "You're an Alpha. I should be calling you ma'am."

Okay, that's just seriously embarrassing. She shows it, just from the redness her cheeks take, and he chuckles like it's the
most adorable thing he's ever seen. "But I won't, because that's not 'cool' these days."

But to say the man is 80 years old, he has to be one of the most laid back and energetic people she's ever met. He can't
sit down for more than two minutes, and when he is sat down, his hands move around like he's on speed. It makes her
laugh, but most importantly, it makes her relax.
She sits and listens to him as he tells her of the tutoring he's going to give her; controlling of the urges, controlling the wolf
in human form, keeping control of the wolf while in wolf form. It's all things she's still struggling with, even though she's
proud of the progress she's made. And so is her mom, and her dad, so in a way, it's worth it, even if she has to work twice
as hard because of it.
"We'll start that this coming Monday." It's Friday, so she has the weekend to prepare her body, because if what Alfred is
talking about is the truth, her body, both human and wolf forms, are going to be put through their paces; pushed right to
edge, on the boundary of pain to agony.

"Okay." She agrees, because it's not like she can say no, and she doesn't want to say no anyway, because she wants to
make Rachel proud of her. To prove to her that she isn't a murderous, uncontrollable beast thanks to the attack.

Alfred leaves, and so does Judy, which is slightly worrying. They go into the backyard, it's not far away, but suddenly she
feels very cut off. That relaxation she felt while chatting with Alfred is gone, and the hawk eyes that Cybil is giving her over
her tea cup does nothing to subdue the feeling.
"I spoke with your father, and he told me that the one you urge for isn't of werewolf blood."

Quinn just nods, mostly because she doesn't know what to say; how can she be calm as can be around the man dubbed
the leader of the wolves of Lima and be wanting to run away with his non-wolf wife? It doesn't make sense.
"As you well know, I'm not a werewolf." Then she smiles, and suddenly that pressure on Quinn's chest is gone, "But that
didn't stop me being with one. I had to learn everything; I had to memorize their culture, their history, just so I felt as if I was
in the loop. When I first met Alfred, I already felt as if I was two steps behind with him. He always spoke of urges, and how
hard it was to deal with the hierarchy within Lima. I never really understood it, and due to that fact, I left him."
"What...you just, left?" What if Rachel left? But wasn't Rachel already gone? On that step, just waiting for another push to
make the decision that would break her in two.
"He came after me, and told me something. I thought about it, long and hard, but in the end, I decided to take the path that
I chose for myself. The thing is, Quinn, you have to realize that there's always a choice."
"Choice...?" Cybil stands, wearily, she moves a lot slower than Alfred, and Quinn is half tempted just to lend her an arm for
support, but by the time she's finally settled on the idea, the old woman is sitting down beside her on the couch, patting
down her summer dress as she sits.

"A werewolf can turn a non-werewolf. It's a common fact, but one that's not really talked about."
"Why? Do people frown upon human turned werewolves or something?"

Cybil bobs her head left to right, and frowns in contemplation, "Not necessarily, Quinn. Mostly they don't like the risk that
comes with it. A human body is not as strong as a werewolves, so when the transition is made, the body may be unable to
cope with such a sudden change."
"You mean...it could kill someone?"

The older woman nods, fluffy white hair bobbing slightly in place, "I won't go into details, but the transformation just tends to
rip a human body apart." The older woman shudders, it's only small, but Quinn feels it, "It's such a horrible thought to think
about. Alfred offered me to transition from human to werewolf, and I turned him after he told me about the repercussions."
"Why are you telling me this...?" Quinn asks, voice low, almost a whisper. She's terrified of the answer, because she
already knows it. She knows what Cybil is going to say, she knows what could possibly be a horrible split decision that
she has to make in her future if Rachel decides to stick around.

"She..." Cybil sighs, "She may want to transition, if she so wishes. In the end, the decision is up to her."
"What? So I kill her just because she feels as if she's stuck in the fog?"

"No, Quinn. You abide by her wishes because she's your mate."

She doesn't want to go to the park, because the same thought has been driving through her mind since Cybil left. Judy
had come in once the married couple had said their goodbyes, and just looked at her daughter, because she knew what
Cybil would talk to her about.
But Quinn just shook her head and went up to her room, because she just needed to be alone for a little while. With her
thoughts, manic as they are, her wolf is howling in agreement. It wants to make Rachel transition, it wants to make her a
wolf, so they can have that closeness that only they would have. It'd be special, and beautiful and it would just be
something for them.

But she knows that Rachel's body wouldn't be able to deal with it. She sees her everyday, and although she's strong
mentally, she knows that in a fight she wouldn't be able to hold herself, not like she could. She's the protector, she's the
strong one; she's the one that keeps her family safe.

She has the blood of an Alpha. If she transitioned Rachel, the strength in the blood alone could kill her.
It's not something she's willing to chance.

Her father, when he comes home, leaves her alone for the night because he knows that his daughter has a lot to think
about. But at a little past eleven at night, he watches her slink out of the house from his bedroom window. His wife is
sleeping behind him, and all he can hear is her soft breathing as he watches his youngest daughter walk down the street.
He knows she's going to see Rachel, he knows she's going to be stressed out because of what Cybil said. He prays that
his daughter is strong enough to stop herself from lashing out before he goes to sleep.

It's cold. It's getting a lot colder now since it's almost November, so she isn't surprised when she enters the park to see
Rachel in a pair of sweatpants, thick ones at that, a thick sweater and a hoodie. She looks toasty warm, and she's
tempted to just leap into her arms to feel that warmth.
Although she's fucking boiling because her fur is as thick as Finn's skull.
Rachel sees her, at the fence that she's just leaped over. The fence where it all began. They're at a stand off, and they just
watch each other. The singer has her hands stuffed in her pockets, and Quinn can smell the pepper spray clutched tightly
in her hand. It hurts her, but she knows Rachel just needs that comfort of protection.

She walks toward her, slowly, head bowed, but eyes trained. Rachel doesn't step back, and Quinn huffs in relief as she
makes the ten yard space, and just parks her rump. The ground thumps as she sits, and Rachel giggles.

The tension is broken, and Quinn just snorts through her snout, almost saying 'I can't help it if I have a fat ass.'
Rachel is still keeping the ten yard gap between them, but her hands aren't in her pockets anymore. Quinn just feels relief,
because in some sort of way, Rachel trusts her enough to not need to clutch that damn spray can in her pocket. She feels
like a protector again, and instead of howling, she fucking yaps and lols her tongue out of the side of her mouth.

She looks and sounds like a cub, but when Rachel drops to her knees, beams and wraps her arms tightly around her furry
neck, she just wishes she could cry, because everything just feels fucking perfect again.

Can we meet?
Tonight...?
Well, no...I was kind of thinking, you could come around?
Oh.
Oh? That's a rather non-committal answer coming from you, Rach.
It was just...a surprise. I wasn't expecting to be asked.
Well, I'm asking you. Please answer quickly because the ten minutes between replies is starting to freak me out.
I apologize for not being able to get dressed and text at the same time, Quinn Fabray.
You're getting dressed...?
Quinn.
It's my wolf, blame the wolf.
Always blame the wolf, huh?
...Pretty much.
Hm.
Ah alright, it's me, but whatever. Will you come around or not...?
...When?
Five? Mom wants to cook dinner.
I'll be meeting your parents?
Is...that an issue? I mean, I can tell them to get lost if you want me to?
What? No! I just...wasn't expecting to meet your parents. We're not even...but yes, I accept your offer.
Not even what...?
Would you like me to bring anything?
No. Not even what...?
Have to dash, Quinn. I'm meeting Leroy in half an hour and I still need to curl my hair.
But! Wait!
Rachel...?
Uh. Rach?
God dammit.


Leroy is still Leroy, because after everything, he still doesn't deserve the privilege of being called 'daddy' anymore. That
name is reserved for a man that cares about having his family together, happy and secure. Leroy is not that man,
especially with the fact that he's still seeing a scarred Michael Hunter.
The man is just leaving when Rachel gets there, and to say it's awkward, is a complete understatement. He tries to smile
at her when they pass, but all Rachel can see are the bandages wrapped around both arms and his throat. He looks
better, he doesn't look massacred, but the fact that a month after the attack, the man was still needing to wear bandages,
just makes her shudder.

Every time she'd seen Quinn's teeth, she never assumed them to be sharp or deadly. They were just teeth. But as Michael
passes her, smiles awkwardly and walks a wide berth around her to keep from touching her, she just shudders and keeps
walking.
Leroy has an apartment now. It's not like he can't afford one, and it's pretty up scale, but Rachel could really care less at
how much he's spent on an apartment when the money should really be in a savings account under the name of Leroy and
Hiram Berry.

He answers the door, ushers her in, takes her coat, almost as if he's a butler and not her father. It's disturbing, and she
can't shake the feeling when she sits in the living room on a second hand couch he told her he'd bought at an auction. It's a
disgusting red colour, and it just solidifies the fact that Hiram Berry is no longer in his life; because Hiram hates red with a
passion.

"So...how is school?" Leroy asks, depositing a cup of coffee in her hand, topped with soya milk. It's the only thing she
finds she has in common with Leroy anymore; the fact that they're both Vegan. A man that had brought her up, protected
her and raised her, was now just a stranger, and the only attachment she felt was from what they eat and didn't eat?
It's horrible.
"It's fine."
The silence is so awkward Rachel actually squirms in her seat. Leroy's thumbs just fiddle with the rim of his coffee mug,
and he just keeps awkwardly smiling whenever she meets his eyes, which isn't very often.
She just wants to leave, but her dad practically orders her to go see Leroy every other day, because even after everything,
she's his daughter too.
"How's Michael?" She doesn't mean to sound bitter, but the underlying tone comes through without her even noticing. It
just bounces off of Leroy's back, and it actually shocks her so much, her jaw drops when he says;
"Oh he's doing a lot better. He's uhm... leaving his wife to... be with me. Actually, it was the attack that changed his mind. It
was almost as if the universe was trying to tell him something that day."
He sounds so chirpy, and so confident, and so happy at the fact that his new lover is moving in with him. But Rachel just
wants to vomit, because right then, she realizes Leroy isn't coming back; the divorce is still going to go through, she's still
going to live in a broken home.

And thanks to Quinn's wolf, Michael Hunter was pushed further into the picture instead of pushed out.
She puts her coffee down on an expensive oak coffee table that's worth half the price Leroy paid for it and just leaves,
because she can't bare to look at his oblivious smile anymore.

Quinn has such a huge smile on her face when she opens the door to find Rachel standing there...with a plate of cookies.
"Cookies...? I told you not to bring anything, Rach." But she takes them anyway, pulls the cling film clean off and stuffs one
in her mouth, "S'good..."
Rachel smirks, "It's rude to come to dinner and have nothing in hand, Quinn. It's bad manners." She says as she watches
Quinn stuff another into her already full mouth, "Something you've obviously never quite grasped."
"Hmpf...?" The blonde asks, barely missing Rachel's face with crumbs of demolished cookie. But she swallows quickly
and smiles, "Uhm. Come in, my parents are in the kitchen."
She enters so nervously, like if she puts a foot down on the stupidly expensive wooden flooring she'll crash right through it.
She even jumps when Quinn goes to take her coat, and when she sees the flash of hurt in the blonde's eyes, she sighs.
"I just wasn't expecting it. It wasn't because of-,"

"I know." She says, even though she doesn't.

"No you don't understand." She takes the plate from Quinn's hands and puts it down on the table beside the door, "I just
flinched because I wasn't expecting you to touch me, not because of your wolf. Please don't think that."
Rachel's holding both her hands, thumbs brushing so gently over the knuckles. The singer sees that some of the knuckles
are red, bruised and scabbed, so she brings them to her face and all but inspects them, "What happened...?"
"Training, with my dad." Quinn smiles shyly, "It's not as bad as it looks. I got them this morning, but they'll be gone in a few
days."
"You heal fast...?"
"Yup." She sounds so proud, Rachel giggles and brings the hands to her lips, kissing each and every knuckle. Quinn is
looking at her as she does it, she can feel those hazel eyes burning into the top of her head, "Healing kisses, huh?"
Rachel smiles as she pulls back, tucking a lock of curled hair behind her ear, "I'll have you know my kisses are
exceedingly magical."
"My lips hurt too..."

Rachel's heart stops, "Oh...?" She whispers, but Quinn's already leaning in, and their noses are bumping together in a
gentle bump war. Rachel tilts her head and connects her lips with Quinn, just because she needs to, because those lips
are so tempting and fuck they are because she's moaning into an open mouth, and getting trapped in because strong
arms are wrapping around her waist, tugging her close.

She feels Quinn's tongue flick out against her top lip, a silent invitation, and Rachel does everything in her power to accept
it. Their tongues brush together in a quiet harmony, and the crescendo is reached when powerfully, loudly, Quinn moans
and has to pull back. Her lips are wet and pouting, and her pupils are completely blown. She's breathing so hard as she
rests her forehead against the singer.
"Wolf...?" Rachel whispers, running a hand up to brush Quinn's hair away from her eyes.
"Yeah...it's easier but..."

"You don't need to explain, Quinn."

She smiles, and takes Rachel's hand, "Ready to meet the parents?"

Rachel nods, and she's instantly mortified when she finds a giggling Judy Fabray as she chops carrots and a red in the
face Russell Fabray as he tries not to laugh at the sound of the two girls moaning in the hallway.

"So, Rachel..." Russell starts. They've all been sat down for ten minutes already, just eating in silence. He's at the head of
the table, like always, because even though his daughter is an Alpha, he's still the leader of the family when he's human.
Judy is sat to his left, and both Quinn and Rachel sat side by side to his right. "You obviously know all about us?"

Quinn blushes and digs into the home made cottage pie (with vegan mince) on her plate, because she realizes, foolishly,
she's told Rachel nothing.

"Oh, uhm..." Rachel wipes the corners of her mouth with her napkin, because she doesn't really want to have mashed
potato stuck on her face while she talks to Russell, who isn't half as frighting as she thought he would be, but still. "Well,
Quinn hasn't told me much. Only that you're both werewolves."
"Quinn Fabray," Judy tuts, "You tell us all about Rachel but deign to tell her about us?"

"Mom..." The youngest Fabray groans, slouching in her seat. Rachel finds it completely adorable, because even though
Quinn is a wolf, she's still that girl she's known since middle school.

"Don't you mom me, Quinnie."

Quinnie.
Rachel snorts, then immediately regrets it because Russell Fabray narrows an eye in her direction, "Uhm." My god, she
was Rachel Berry, she never said uhm. "I think it's because when I usually see Quinn she's in her wolf form, so..."

"Yeah, totally." Quinn sits back up again, "I'll tell her all about you guys, relax."
"Good, we don't want to left out of the loop, do we, Russell?"

He's still watching Rachel like a hawk, and Quinn knows why he's doing it, so he allows him. He's scoping out the
potential, which is highly embarrassing, but as long as Rachel doesn't know that, she's a'okay.

But damn her dad is totally making it obvious and it really isn't cool.
"So," He finally says, moving his eyes back to his untouched plate of food, "I heard about your parents."

Quinn's head snaps to Russell and she growls. She actually growls at her own father, and Rachel is shocked to see that he
nods his head ever so slightly. She knows it's because of the Alpha thing, but it's incredible to see it happen right before
her.
"My parents are getting a divorce, yes." Rachel states simply, and Quinn turns her head to her.
"You don't need to talk about this if you don't want to."
Judy looks so apologetic, Russell is watching her again, shovelling a large forkful of cottage pie into his mouth, and Quinn
is just smiling so softly at her. She feels...accepted and...it's weird because even though the family hasn't done anything
particularly welcoming, the fact that they're sat there, watching her, just to see if she's fine with it, makes her feel a part of
something special.
"I think it's good to talk about it. It's better than having my hand licked every night."

Judy laughs, Russell bites down hard on his bottom lip and Quinn just dies in her seat.

The last thing she remembered before ending up on her back on Quinn Fabray's bed was, "You embarrassed an Alpha in
front of her pack, you need to pay."

They're kissing, and it's so fucking glorious, because Quinn's hands are everywhere but nowhere at the same time. She
keeps to limits; she doesn't touch anywhere erogenous, only bare skin, like Rachel's hands, especially her fingers, and the
skin of Rachel's neck. The touches are fleeting, like they're not really there, but it's enough to have the singer squirming
beneath the blonde.

Quinn's up on her knees, propped up on her elbows, keeping her knees well away from a certain area, and keeping her
body away from touching Rachel's directly, because just the kissing, the brushing of each other's tongues, the expel of hot
hair and the heavenly moans is already killing her.

It hurts, but it hurts so good.

She's a top. In every sense of the word. In relationships, as an Alpha, at school as Queen Bee, she's a top. But now
Rachel's flipping her over and she's never been so fucking happy to be a bottom.

Rachel is panting above her, lips pouty and red, and she's struggling for breath, and as she heaves in each gulp of air, it
sounds like it's hurting her.

"What are you doing to me?"

"Aphrodisiac. Werewolves tend to give it off when they're..." She clears her throat, but then sits up instead and wraps her
arms around Rachel's waist, "Fuck you're so sexy." And she is, with her messy hair, blown pupils and heaving chest, a
chest that makes itself seen, barely, whenever it heaves through her blouse.

"Quinn..." It's so bad because she has no second thoughts about ripping off her blouse and letting the blonde have her
way, especially with those hazel eyes that have the particular shade of gold in them. "Are you okay...?"

The blonde just growls and starts nipping at Rachel's neck when she's about to ask again, but it's lost on the tip of her
tongue, and she dips her head back, mouth open, and all she can say is, "Oh...keep doing that."

Quinn is addicted to the taste of Rachel's skin. Her smell, so heady and musky, is just filling her senses and driving her
crazy. But tasting. Oh fuck, tasting it; it's like jumping into a pool of your favourite pudding and just living in it. She wants to
live the rest of her life tasting this skin, touching it, making it shudder and quiver.
Rachel is panting above her, and she feels the heaving chest against her breastbone. It's killing her, she wants to take her,
and her wolf is howling so fucking loudly, begging for her to do it, and that's when she knows;
"I have to stop." She rips herself back, panting for breath, "I have to stop or I'll just..."

"I-I know." Rachel's neck is dotted red, bite marks adorn ever part of available tan skin, and it makes Quinn feel as if she's
owned her. "We both had to stop because...I was finding it hard to-,"

"Stop yourself. I know. Me too." She collapses back against the bed, just taking long and soothing breaths to calm the
beating of her heart and the howling of her wolf. They both die down eventually, but only when Rachel lays down beside
her, resting her head on her shoulder.
"Michael Hunter left his wife. He's moving in with Leroy." She feels Quinn's head shift above her, but she just keeps her
head down, snuggling into Quinn's McKinley hoodie, "I went around there earlier and he was just leaving."
"How did it make you feel...?"

Quinn's hand brushes through her hair, tugging at the loose strands, fingertips digging into her scalp. She feels like falling
asleep, because it's so soothing, and even though Quinn has calmed down exponentially, she's still giving off that
aphrodisiac.
"It kind of just solidified the fact that he won't be coming back, for me. He's broken our family up, and he's just not willing to
try and mend it."
"Do you want him to?"
No one has ever asked her that, not even her dad. They tend to just skirt the issue, and Hiram acts like Leroy never
existed. But Rachel knows he still thinks about his soon to be ex-husband, because she hears him crying every night,
alone in his bed.

"Yes because my dad is still hurting...but no because...it just wouldn't be the same. It'd be just so awkward and I wouldn't
want to live in a house where I'm walking on eggshells all the time."

"So you're willing to accept that he's not coming back?"

Rachel shifts, propping herself up on her elbow to look down at Quinn, who already looks like she's going to fall asleep,
"Sorry...is my smell making you sleepy?"
"You're calm, so I'm calm." Quinn shrugs sleepily, "You're going to accept it?"

"I'll answer your question if you answer mine."

Quinn's immediately intrigued, so she asks, "Go on..."

Rachel bites her top lip shyly, before burrowing her head back into the soft curve of Quinn's neck. She feels safe there,
content, and she just breathes in the smell of Quinn's perfume as she lays there. It's minutes after that she finally asks,
"What are we...?" So quietly.
"...Quinn?" She looks up, and smiles, because Quinn's asleep with a content smile on her face.

Russell walks into Quinn's room the next morning, and Rachel's already up because her six am exercise routine cannot be
tamed, much like her hair that looks like a family of baby chicks made their nest in there.
But he doesn't seem fazed, and he ushers her out with a flick of his wrist. She pulls herself away slowly from the protection
of Quinn's arms and follows Russell out of the door. They don't walk far, only to the end of the hall and into his office. She
looks around, but doesn't really take it in, because she's worried.

He sighs, takes her by the shoulders and moves her around his desk, "Sit." She sits herself down in his desk chair like
there's an explosive under it, but when nothing goes off, she allows herself to relax a little. "I'm going to be very, very
honest with you here, Rachel."
And...that panic is back.

She shuffles in the seat, dying to find some form of comfort as he plants himself on the edge of his desk, looking down at
her with shining eyes.

They eat breakfast together, which they make together because Rachel is adamant about thanking Judy for an excellent
meal the night before. Much to her chagrin, there's no Vegan ingredients, so she makes do, but flat out refuses to crack
any eggs.

Or eat for that matter.

Quinn chops her a selection of fresh fruit from the fridge which she eats happily, but just beams when she watches an
ecstatic Quinn stuff down pancake after pancake. Judy just hums, "These are fantastic, Rachel. Honestly. You will have to
give me the recipe."

"Ah-ha. Berry family recipe, I'm afraid I can't give away my secrets." Then she glances at Quinn, who's leaning across the
table to pick another stack from the centre plate, "Unless you want a daughter the size of a blimp."

Funnily enough, Quinn stops eating at that, but only to glare before she digs in again.
Russell smiles from behind his Sunday paper, taking small bites of his pancakes from time to time, which are honestly,
delicious. He finds it amusing though, that Judy politely asked for the recipe when she can blatantly smell the 'secret'
ingredient, but he doesn't mention anything.
"Oh she won't get fat. An Alpha usually eats twice as much than a normal wolf, it's common practice."

"And why is that?" Rachel asks, honestly interested.

"An Alpha is suppose to be strong, and to be strong they use a lot of energy. Quinn burns energy twice as fast than most
wolves, hence why she eats so much, and why she falls asleep in class."
"Oh my god, mom. It was one time!"
"Quinn, manners." Judy tuts, obviously talking about the pancake remnants that she can see in her daughters mouth, but
it's mostly to do with the fact that she chastised God in her house. "We have company."

"She's seen me eat, mom."

"Like the way you demolished those cookies yesterday?" Rachel asks with a giggle.

"Cookies?" Russell's eyes pop up over his newspaper, "I saw no cookies."
All three heads turn to Quinn who swallows her pancakes with a meek look on her face, "I uhm..." Then her eyes shoot to
her cup, "Who wants another drink?" She asks quickly before racing into the kitchen, but it's not enough to avoid the
laughter in the dining room.

But she doesn't want to. Because Rachel is laughing so serenely, and so happily, and it makes everything worth it.

It takes them twenty minutes to say goodbye. Quinn won't open the door, and that's mostly due to the fact that Rachel is
holding onto her hands, refusing to let go. "Your bruises are already healing."

"Yeah," Quinn smiles, "I suppose I'll get some more next week. I'm training with another wolf in Lima for a little while."
"Oh? What for?" Quinn's raised eyebrow is answer to that question, and she blushes, "Oh. Right."

She looks up just in time to see Quinn lean in and brush a kiss to her lips, but then the touch is gone, and she mourns it,
"That wasn't much of a kiss."

"Your smell is really strong today." The blonde offers simply.

"Is that your way of telling me I need to shower?"

Quinn smirks, "Oh...no, no need to shower," So she buries her head in Rachel's neck and takes one long sniff. The singer
feels the need to be grossed out, but the fact that Quinn is in her arms, and biting so gently at the already healing love
bites on her neck, she can't bring herself to care.
"Your parents."

"Are in the other room." Quinn presses a kiss to a particularly dark bite and pulls back, "Did you notice my mom staring at
your neck over breakfast?"

"Yes. I did. Thank you for that, by the way."

"Oh don't mention it," She replies cockily.

"I need to go..." Rachel whispers, almost in defeat, "My dad wasn't expecting me to sleep out..."
"Oh, yeah...I need to go hunt anyway," Quinn says, looking over her shoulder to the living room, where she knows her
father will be waiting for her, "But uhm...can we meet tonight?"
"I thought we agreed every other night?"

"It's important."
Quinn watches as Rachel begins to silent worry herself into an early grave, so she calms the small singer by placing a
gentle kiss to her forehead, "Don't panic. Just be there."
"Okay."

They kiss goodbye, one, twice, three times before Rachel backs up and opens the door with a free hands. They kiss four
times, five times, six times before she's backed up onto the porch, "You need to let me go."

"My wolf isn't sated yet." Quinn mumbles against her lips, biting down on a plump bottom one.
"Your wolf is a beast," The singer gasps and Quinn chuckles.
"You're telling me?"

"My daughter cares deeply for you. Whether she's human or a wolf, she cares for you."

"I understand that. I care for her too."

"As an Alpha, she's prone to show her aggression from time to time. But that's just the blood of a werewolf. A leader at
that. You need to allow her; don't stifle her."
"As long as she doesn't hurt anyone, she can do what she wants. I don't control her."

"I know you don't. But do you know what I'm trying to say?"

"You're talking about Michael Hunter."

"Hm. It was a time when Quinn had just found out she was Alpha. I've never dealt, nor been introduced to an Alpha
before. I didn't know what to tell her, or to help her through it. And with the fact you're the main cause of her urge, and
the pain you were so obviously in, her wolf dominated her human side for only a brief few minutes."
"She's already told me this, Mr. Fabray."

"Russell."

"...Russell. I understand what Quinn is going through-,"

"No...you really don't, Rachel. Just being in the same room with you takes a toll on her body. She's mentally and
physically preparing herself day in and day out just to be able to talk to you, or hug you...or kiss you."
"If you're talking about my neck I didn't mean for it to happen, we just-,"

"Got out of control. Aphrodisiacs can do that to a person."

"Well...yes..."

"She will protect you, Rachel, no matter what you do or say. She'll be by your side, always."

"I know."

"And so will Judy and I."

"I-,"

"We're your family too. It would be my honor to have you."

They hug they shared made her cry, and Russell Fabray just held her, because that's what you just do with family.

"Where were you? I was worried sick!" Hiram screams as she walks through the door.
"I'm...I'm sorry I went to dinner at Quinn's and then I ended up staying the night."
"You could have called, Rachel! Anything could have happened to you!"

"At Quinn's house?" Rachel asks, dead panned.

"Well." Hiram huffs, "Please just...don't do it again, okay? You're going to give me a heart attack."

"I'm sorry, dad." She allows her father to wrap her in a hug, but when he stiffens in her arms, she mentally kicks herself,
"Uhm."

"Your neck." He rips his head back, still holding his daughter in his arms, "What happened to your neck?"
"I...fell."

"Into someone's mouth?" He glares down to the bites and then slowly, so slowly, his eyes slide up to lock with hers, "Quinn
Fabray."

"I..."
"Quinn Fabray."
"Well, yes." He's already going for the phone, but she dives in the way, holding him back with palms to his shoulders,
"Dad...we didn't do anything."
"Except mutilate your neck, it seems. Rachel, you're seventeen."

"Dad, I'm almost eighteen. I'm allowed to kiss who I want."

"Since when are you gay?" He asks all of a sudden, pulling away from her hands and crossing his arms over his chest,
"When did this happen? Why didn't you tell me?"
"You...had your own stuff to deal with..." She looks down to her hands, wringing them together, "I didn't want to bother you,"
She whispers, "I could deal with it."
"Oh honey," His eyes are shining when she looks up, "I'm sorry if it seems like I'm not there for you."

"You've had a lot to deal with dad, it's okay." She smiles, kissing his cheek.
"Your father would deal with this a lot better than me, it seems."

She frowns, "No. He wouldn't, because he's not here. You are." She wraps her arms around him and hugs him tightly, so
tightly, "And you're all I need."

Rachel is miffed when she gets to the park that night. Quinn isn't there, no wolf, no human, just nothing. It's freezing, like,
beyond freezing and she's shaking even though she's wearing three layers and a winter coat over it. But she decides to
give Quinn ten minutes leeway before leaving, so head's over to the swing to kill some time.

She sits down, and then shoots back up when she feels something dig into her backside. It's a small tape recorder, and
when she picks it up and squints at it with the help of the moonlight, she makes out, "Play me."

So she does, after making herself comfortable on her favourite swing. She presses play, puts it on her lap and waits.

"Hey. I know you're probably wondering where I am right now, but just hear me out okay? I don't have a huge clich
speech to say to you, and I don't really have anything prepared because I only thought of this idea about an hour
ago...but uhm...mom go away, I'm doing something. No...I don't want anything to eat. Okay. Hi Rachel! Oh my god,
mom, go away. I'm so sorry about that...what was I saying? Uh...oh yeah. Well, last night, when you asked me that
question, I wasn't asleep.
I know it's rude, the fact that I faked being asleep, but I didn't really know how to answer you at the time. So...I thought
about it, and I came to a decision. An hour ago, which is right now, but whatever. Damn, I'm confusing myself. But yeah.
I came to a decision and...well, you mean the world to me. And I don't mean that in some romance novel, Hollywood
movie sort of way. I mean it like you do mean the world to me. Because of my wolf, and because of the way we both feel
for you.
My wolf just amplifies everything, and the fact that you're the one I urge for, I can't really say no to the opportunity to be
with you. So...I uhm...I'm not really good with words, I tend to just want to sit in the back of a room and read, but...yeah. I
know I'm not as good as you, and I probably won't ever be. But...here goes nothing, I suppose?"
There's a soft click and Rachel frowns, because she thinks its the end of the tape. She looks around, half expecting for
Quinn to emerge from behind a bush or something, but there's nothing. She goes to stand from the swing, but then there's
the sound of a guitar, soft and gentle coming through the speakers of the cheap ass tape recorder in her lap, so she sits
and listens.

If all the flowers faded away

And if all the storm clouds decided to stay
Then you would find me
Each hour the same
She is tomorrow
And I am today.
She knows the song, even though Quinn's smoky voice leaves it with a distinct difference. It's She Is The Sunlight by
Trading Yesterday, one of her guilty pleasures, and ultimate shower song when in a particularly romantic mood.

Cause if right is leaving

I'd rather be wrong
She is sunlight
The sun is gone...
And if loving her is,
Is a heartache for me
And if holding her means
I have to bleed,
Then I am the martyr
Love is to blame
She is the healing
And I am the pain.
Tears are falling before she even has chance to stop them, because she knows what Quinn is trying to tell her. She
prepared herself so much for this moment, but now, finally here and presenting itself, she can't help but burst into tears.
She holds the tape recorder to her ear and shuts her eyes, just listening to that voice.

She lives in a daydream

Where I don't belong
She is the sunlight
The sun is gone.
And it will take this life of regret
For my heart to learn to forget.
Tomorrow will be as it always has been
And I will fall to her again
For I know I've come too close.
I said if right is leaving
I'd rather be wrong
She is the sunlight
The sun is gone
She is the sunlight
The sun is gone...
The guitar plays out in a beautiful one minute play, and it's so stunning. She's sobbing, because she's so happy, because
for the first time since everything went wrong at home, she feels that love again. She feels it with Quinn, she feels it with
Russell, she feels it with Judy, she feels it with her dad.
The tape recorder clicks off, and slowly she opens her eyes, just in time to lock on with golden hazel of the wolf that sits in
front of her.
And she just smiles.
*Chapter 4*: Sunrise
Rachel hates it when Santana automatically assumes that she's the hardest to deal with in a relationship. Especially when
she's so smarmy about it, all flippant and just acting like she knows the deal with her and Quinn's relationship, so when
they're sat near to one another in Glee Club and just happens to say, "I don't know how Quinn deals with you, Berry. You'd
drive me up the fucking wall." She just smiles, because she knows Santana is wrong.
Quinn is the most difficult person she's ever been with, and that's even counting Finn. All he did was sit down and play Call
of...whatever it was and rave about Grilled Cheese sandwiches. And although Quinn isn't like that in the slightest, because
she's so attentive, and sweet, and caring, and always carrying her books to and from lessons for her, Quinn is just
annoying to be with.
Mostly due to the fact that whenever Quinn does something wrong, or tries to bail out on a very important dinner meeting
with Hiram Berry so he can finally meet his daughter's allusive girlfriend, she blames it on her wolf.
Her wolf, now the bane of her existence, is coming between the relationship she has with Quinn. Sometimes she wants to
rip her hair out when Quinn says something like 'I can't come to dinner tonight, I have to go out hunting' or 'I would see you
today, but I was training really hard with Alfred last night and I'm completely wiped out.'

It's a vicious circle that she can't seem to get herself out of.
So she decides to talk to Quinn at lunch. She waits in the cafeteria, at one of the back tables that Quinn, by deed poll,
practically owns. She's in the middle of eating the left over lasagne her dad made the night before when she feels such a
gentle kiss pressed to the top of her head and then a body thump down beside her.

"Hey baby." It still makes her shudder when Quinn calls her it, and she hopes the feeling with never go away. It's only one
word, but to her, it means the world. She's happy that the whole of McKinley know that she and Quinn are together
because it just makes things that much easier. No one really knew if Quinn played for one team, so when she walked into
McKinley with Rachel Berry on her arm, no one batted an eyelid, except just whisper amongst themselves why two
enemies were now dating. But that was all.
"Hey, are you okay?" Quinn smiles and leans in, "Quinn...we're in the cafeteria."

"So?" She glances over her shoulders, "Who cares?" Then she looks back at Rachel, cocky smirk on her face, "I certainly
don't."

And they're kissing, and it takes all Rachel has not to just climb onto Quinn's lap, because she can feel that aphrodisiac
rushing through her veins already. Their tongues battle in a war for dominance, which eventually, Quinn wins because her
tongue does devilish things that makes Rachel melt into the bench she's sat on.
When Quinn pulls back, she's panting, "Pretty good, huh?" But Rachel's still feeling the after effects and all she can say,
which Quinn isn't sure is a real word is;
"Guh..."

She laughs and kisses her girlfriend's jaw, "Sorry, I just had to."
"Had to work me up in the middle of a cafeteria filled with students?" She pulls back and shakes her head in mock
annoyance, "You're not very nice."
"Oh I'm not...?"

"No..." She looks down to her lunch and starts to dig in once more, "You're not nice at all."
"And why is that...?"

"Because I said so."

"You didn't say that yesterday when I was sucking on your-,"

"Quinn Fabray!" She screeches, and the two tables full of students in front of them all turn around to stare.
Only when they turn around, the guys with smirks because Quinn Fabray being a lesbian is totally a wet dream, and others
with pure confusion in their eyes because Quinn just looks cocky and Rachel looks like she wants to melt into the floor and
disappear forever.
"Neck. I was going to say your neck."

The singer's head snaps to Quinn, "I thought you meant-,"

"Hm-hm..." Quinn leans forward again, brushing her nose against Rachel's jaw, "But I totally did enjoy sucking on your-,"
"Don't you dare say it." Rachel mumbles, cheeks still flush with embarrassment, "Not here."
Quinn finally relents, mercifully and takes the cookies that Rachel baked her only the night before. It's become a ritual for
Quinn; since first eating her girlfriend's cookies, she all but demands to have them made all the time and Rachel is only
happy to oblige. So as she opens the paper bag holding those beloved cookies, she can't help but beam like a little
school girl.
"How's your training going...?" Rachel asks after swallowing her mouthful of lasagne, "You were suppose to call me last
night but you never did." She doesn't want to sound annoyed, but with the way Quinn sighs, it just proves that she didn't pull
it off very well.

"I really am sorry. Alfred has been completely kicking me up the ass and I'm just exhausted by the time I get home." Rachel
just prods at her food with her fork, "Baby...it's all a good cause. Eventually I won't need to train anymore."

"Yeah, but when will that be...?" Rachel asks, glancing at the blonde beside her, "How long will it be until you can control
your urges around me?"

"I don't know, Rach."

It's seems like it's the only thing Quinn ever says these days, "I don't know" or "I have no idea."

So she asks the question that's been wriggling away at her since they first started dating, and she asks it so bluntly that
Quinn almost chokes on her mouthful of sugar cookie, "Why do you even need to control your urges?"

"Excuse me?" Quinn asks, eyes watering as she tries to regain her breath.
"We're dating now, Quinn. We're together."

Quinn swallows and turns on the bench, straddling it to face her girlfriend, "Let me ask you a question. I want you to
answer truthfully, okay?"

"The fact that you think I wouldn't answer truthfully is absurd, but go on."
"Do you want to have sex with me tonight...?"

Rachel splutters, because honestly, she wasn't really expecting to be propositioned for sex so early on in the relationship.
Of course, they'd experimented, what couple didn't? They had well rounded second base; they'd seen each other topless
and Quinn's mouth had become well acquainted with her chest, but that was all.
"I...why would you...I really..."

Quinn smiles, "Exactly," And she leans back to grab another cookie from the bag, "That's why I need to control my urges
around you. If you're not ready, I won't force myself on you."

But maybe that's what Rachel wants? Maybe she wants Quinn to lose herself completely and have her way with her. Ever
since they started dating, and started making out, it was becoming a lot more harder to control her own urges. She isn't a
werewolf, far from it, but she is a girl, and she has little things called hormones that tend to explode in a big way when
mixed with Quinn's aphrodisiac.

But she respects Quinn enough to know that she wouldn't feel comfortable, so she just takes it at face value, leans forward
and dots a kiss to Quinn's nose. Her face immediately scrunches up, and she can't help but giggle. Her wolf did the exact
same thing. Her wolf.
"So, dinner with my dad?" Rachel asks, calmly, almost innocently so she doesn't scare Quinn away.

Quinn gawks, then grabs another cookie and takes a small bite of it. Rachel waits, patiently, as Quinn continues to chew
on the small mouth full of cookie. It's almost agonizing, and all she wants to do is grab Quinn's luscious blonde hair and
make her nod her head in agreement.
"Well...I don't know." And there it is again. "I'm still training with Alfred, and I might not get back until late."

"We'll push back dinner then."

"I'll...need to go home and shower, and change, and won't he ask questions if I'm bruised?"
"The power of makeup. And like I said previously, Quinn, we'll push back dinner."

"...I only eat before seven pm."

"Oh for goodness sake!" Rachel rips up from the bench and all but stuffs her things back into her bag. Quinn just watches
her, mouth and eyes wide, "It's just a dinner, Quinn, it's not like I'm asking you to propose. My God!"
And she storms out.

No matter how hard she tries, she can't find Rachel. She searches everywhere the singer goes whenever she's upset, or
needs to think, or generally wants to pout by herself. But she's not in the Choir Room, or the Auditorium, or in any of the
toilets situated around school.

It's a pain in the ass too, because she's surrounded by so many students, who mostly smell like sweat or burgers, so she
can't pinpoint Rachel's smell directly. But by the time the bell goes for her next class, she gives up the search in hope that
technology will help.

She's in Chemistry, and she's suppose to be doing some sort of experiment with a Bunsen burner that looks way too
unstable for her liking. Brittany, her lab partner (Lord have mercy) is playing a game with herself, trying to see how close
she can get her hair to the flame without it burning. It's almost cringe worthy to watch, and the amount of times she's had to
pull her friend back from getting herself burnt, it's just beginning to get on her nerves.

When Brittany is sufficiently calmed down, or bored of her game, Quinn whips out her phone and taps out a quick
message, looking up from time to time when her teacher begins to do a circuit around the room.

I'm sorry about earlier.

She leaves it at that, because she knows Rachel is still going to be amazingly pissed, and Rachel when she's pissed? Is
pretty fucking scary, even for an Alpha. She knows she should just bite the bullet and go to dinner with Rachel and Hiram,
but she can't, no matter how hard she tries.

Hiram is her father, and with the way things work in her community, the werewolf community, she'd have to lay down the
law to Rachel's father. It's a brutal thing to do, and when Russell had told her that he had done the exact same thing to
Judy's father, and got himself punched twice in the nose for it, she just put her foot down and refused to go to dinner.
She'd been giving excuses since they started dating, and she knew that Rachel was getting tired, and that they were only
excuses. But the thought of looking Hiram Berry dead in the eye and saying, "She's mine now, you have no say in what
she does. I protect her, you let me do the work from now on." Just makes her want to die where she's sat because even
though Hiram Berry, from Rachel's description, is a small almost frail Jewish man, she's pretty sure he wouldn't mind
ripping Quinn's pride down a peg or two.

And even though her human side would accept it, her Alpha wolf side, would definitely, most definitely, not.
She keeps glancing impatiently down at her phone, the nail of her index finger tapping the touchscreen almost incessantly.
Rachel, even in class, never takes this long to text back. Either she's ignoring her or...something happened to her. She
feels her inner wolf growl, and she only just stops it from erupting from her own throat. No. Nothing is wrong. Rachel is in
class, she's just being a diva and not texting back. That. Is. All.
But her wolf isn't so sure, so she looks back down again when her teacher turns his back and types out another message.

Just text me so I know you're okay.

Rachel always abides to that; she knows how riled Quinn's wolf gets when it's worried about her. It won't settle down until
she either smells her girlfriend's scent, or sees her, or just hears from her. She just needs clarification; she needs to know
that Rachel isn't lying in a ditch somewhere...

Okay, really over-active imagination. Quinn props her chin up on the palm of her hand when her teacher glances at her. He
narrows his eyes, almost as if he knows something is going on when her other hand is in her lap, but she just acts like
she's interested in what he's written on the board, and he's fine.
Her hand isn't buzzing though, and it should be buzzing. She bites down on her bottom lip, because she feels as if she
needs to howl, and almost by itself, her body begins to rock back and forward in her seat. It's only a small, almost
unnoticeable movement, but it's there, and it's driving her mad.

The bell goes, and she packs away her things while Brittany chirps about something she did on the weekend with
Santana. Quinn would be interested, because yeah, Santana and Brittany are her best friends, but why in almighty heaven
isn't Rachel texting her back?
She's a quarter of the way through her next class, Algebra, when her damn phone finally buzzes. Her teacher looks as
bored as the rest of the class does, and she seems to be doodling in her notebook or something, so Quinn pulls her
phone out of her jeans pocket and clicks on the message.

I still don't know why you're dating Berry.

It's from fucking Santana, and recently, after becoming Rachel's girlfriend, she's the bane of her existence. All she does is
complain that she's dating the Glee Club Captain, that she's bringing her own rep down and therefore Santana and
Brittany's because they hang out around her. It's all so...High School, even though she is in High School, but she just wants
to scream at something because honestly, she's happy, and so is her wolf, so why the fuck does it matter?

Is it honestly any of your business if I'm dating Rachel or not? She makes me happy, S. Just like B makes you happy.
Would you like it if I kept calling B a ditzy blonde all the time? If I ripped her apart and called her names every time I
saw her?
It's her wolf. Okay, so it's part her as well. But Santana really needs to be told to calm the fuck down, because it's really not
any of her business who she dates. Santana has her own life, Brittany has her own life, Rachel has her own life, and so
does she.
Her phone buzzes, five times in quick succession, and she knows she's gotten her best friend riled up. Part of her is
excited to open the texts, just to see how she's reacted, but another part of her wants to lock the phone away in a safe and
dump it in the ocean.

Okay. Let's get one thing straight here. You call Britt anything else that I'm not happy with, I'll make sure I take you all
the way to Lima Heights Adjacent and deal with you there.
Secondly. Have you actually seen Berry? She dresses like a fucking toddler, and if I remember correctly, Q, you told
her the exact same thing only months ago. Get the fuck off your high horse.
Thirdly. Oh yes, I'm still going. I can call Berry the whatever the hell I want. She's bringing down mine and B's rep while
we hang out with you. Why do you think we don't sit at lunch with you anymore?
Fourthly. Yes. Still going. Get a fucking life.
And fifth. Screw you.
Her arms are shaking. They're fucking shaking as her eyes just read an re-read those five texts from Santana, and each
time she does, she feels as if she wants to lunge over her desk, turn into her werewolf, find Santana, and cut the bitch.

It's driving her crazy, that Santana is so obsessed with being popular that she's willing to turn her back on her best friend.
Actually, it doesn't drive her crazy, it makes her sick, because a girl she's known since the beginning of High School, who
had her back wherever she went, all of a sudden wants nothing to do with her because she has Rachel Berry as her
girlfriend.

Well. She doesn't need Santana. And it looks like Santana doesn't need her.
She punches her thumbs down hard on the touchscreen of her phone, not even caring if she breaks the fucking thing, as
she types out the last message.

Fine. Don't expect us to be friends then, because I'm not going to turn my back on my girlfriend simply because you
don't like the fact that her rep isn't up there along with yours. It looks like you need to get a life, S. Not me.
Suffice to say, Santana doesn't text back.

She isn't there when she makes it to Glee Club. And neither is Brittany, which was bound to happen. Santana's pissed, so
she needs sex to calm herself down. She didn't really expect her ex best friend to be at Glee, but the fact that she isn't,
does make her smile a little as she walks into the choir room.

Rachel isn't there though. And that smile is gone. Finn looks a little lost, although he's talking to Puck, and his eyes keep
slyly glancing at the seat Rachel usually sits at. It still irks her to no end, that Finn hasn't got the fucking message that
Rachel is taken, so she just stamps up the risers and sits down beside Mike.
"Wow, you look pissed." He comments, his head snapping toward her when her ass impacts the seat. Tina looks toward
her too, and she looks mildly interested at why she's pissed.
Quinn likes both Mike and Tina, they're pretty cool, especially Mike, because he likes all the things she likes. Comic
books, Pokmon, video games. When she'd first told Rachel about her love for everything 'dorky' Rachel had just burst
into laughter, almost cried, and couldn't breathe for around five minutes.

"Who would have though Quinn Fabray was a dork!"

It should have pissed her off, but with the warm look in Rachel's eyes, she only found herself to melt even more.

But now Rachel wasn't talking to her, Santana, and by default, Brittany, weren't talking to her anymore. How could one
thing just spiral out of control? She should have just said yes to Rachel, then she could have at least had control over at
least one thing.
"Just girl troubles..." Mike cringes, "Friend troubles."
"Ahhh and that's why Santana and Brittany aren't here?"
"You got it, Chang." She slumps back in her seat and watches with bored eyes as Mr. Schue walks in, pulling the bag off
his shoulder and dumping it on top of Brad's piano. The piano player looks pissed, and she can't help but chuckle when he
grabs Mr. Schue's bag and tips over the opposite side of his instrument.

"What have they done now?"

"Santana's just being a royal bitch about Rachel."

"Is that why Rachel isn't here? She heard you two argue?"
"Nah. Me and Santana were just texting in class, but Rachel and I fell out at lunch."

"What happened?" Tina asks, bracing her elbows on her knees. Mike leans back and allows his girlfriend to talk to his
friend, wrapping an arm around the both of them for comfort. Both she and Tina smile.

"She wants to meet her dad."

"Ah, the parentage problems." Mike shudders, "I remember when I met Tina's parents. I threw up on the dinner table."

"Ouch..."
"My parent's family air loom that had been handed down from generation to generation."

"Double ouch."
"Trust me, Quinn. If I can make an ass out of myself and throw up on a priceless air loom, and still have them liking me,
you'll get along with Rachel's dads just fine."
"Dad's..." Quinn whispers, "Oh fuck, I forget Leroy."

"Does Rachel want you to meet him?" Tina asks, kissing Mike's still blushing cheek.
"I...don't know, I never really asked."

"Don't you think you should?"

And now she feels like the worst girlfriend ever.

If you won't talk to me, at least see me. I'm going to be at the park at midnight.
"Pay attention." Quinn's head snaps up and she drops her phone back on top of her hoodie that lays in the dirt. "I know
you have issues with your girlfriend, but you can't allow it to impact on your training. Do you understand?"

Quinn nods strongly, "I understand."

"Excellent. Now the key to control your Alpha is simply to allow it to think for itself. If you reign it in too much, it'll become
enraged, it'll fight you more, it'll want to break free. You need to learn the line between suffocation and freedom."
Alfred Noble makes it all sound so fucking easy, and the way he just carries himself, an 80 year old octogenarian, makes
her infuriated with herself. She's young, she should be able to catch onto all of this.
"But how do I know the line?" She shrugs her shoulders, "I either reign it in too much, or I just let it go. I don't know how to
get it down perfectly."
Alfred just smiles, "That is what training is for." He claps his hands together, "Now. You have the item of clothing...?"

The item of clothing she was told to bring was essential for today's training session. It was a t-shirt, a dark green Wicked t-
shirt that Rachel had left at her house one day after they'd gone out jogging together. She jumps over to her bag, pulls out
the shirt, trying to block herself from smelling too much as she hands it to her trainer.
"Are you holding back?" He asks as he unfolds it, and by doing so the smell gets twice as strong. It's there, it's pungent,
and her wolf just wants to lunge at it because he's holding something that belongs to her.

"Yeah." She replies, voice rough.

And he wafts the fucking shirt in her direction, and that bastard wind carries the smell all the way to her, and my god is it
glorious. It just reeks of Rachel and she feels her arms begin to tense, just like they do whenever her wolf wants to come
out to play. The bone in her right forearm snaps, just like a toothpick as she continues to hold herself back from lunging.

"You hate the fact I have the shirt. You want it for yourself."
What comes out isn't a word, but more like a growl, and Alfred just nods to himself in understanding. He's scared, of
course he is. He's training an Alpha, and although he's incredibly strong and agile, Quinn isn't trained; he doesn't even
know what she would do if they begun fighting. He saw Russell Fabray's bruises and wounds after the fight with his
daughter, and he's sure his 80 year old body wouldn't be able to handle it.

"The smell will always be there, Quinn. It's not going to go away. Rachel is yours, she's no one else's. You're her girlfriend,
her wolf. It'll always be that way. No one will take that away from you." But he tightens his grip on the shirt and holds it still
at his chest, almost as if he's trying to call a bull toward him.
Quinn's bone snaps back into place, and just like that, her arm is back to normal, and the urge to rip Alfred's throat out is
gone. But she still wants that damn shirt, she wants it so bad.
He can hear her thoughts, so he says, calmly, confidently, "Rachel is with you, and not with anyone else. Nor does she
want to be with anyone else. You are her protector; you are the one that keeps her safe." Then he pauses and waits until
Quinn stands up straight against from her hunched over position, "Do you want the shirt?" He asks all of a sudden.

Her eyes snap from the shirt to him, and her wolf is howling to say yes, so she says, "Yes." Through a tired whisper.
Alfred smiles calmly, throws the shirt back into her bag, and claps her on the shoulder, "You're getting there, Quinn. You're
getting there."
But she still has a long way to go.

She gets back from training a little after ten, and that only gives her enough time to eat the dinner that her mom had left her
in the oven; steak, chips and mash potato, hallelujah, and shower. So by the time she's scoffed her dinner down and
showered off the dirt from her training, it's already going on eleven. She has plenty of time to get to the park.

She's walking, instead of running, because when she does run she has over forty minutes to kill and snapping at small
flies is beginning to get a little tiresome. She never seems to catch them, and their little microscopic faces just mock her
whenever her snout snaps and misses. So she just takes a stroll, enjoying the way she has time to watch her paw prints
press deep imprints into the wet soil below.
At times she can hardly believe she's a wolf. Of course, she had the gene from when she was first born, but had only really
come to realize what it all meant when she was six years old, and even then, she didn't really believe her parents then they
told her she could morph into a werewolf. A werewolf! Something that only belonged in storybooks, like Little Red Riding
Hood, and scary movies that only her big sister was allowed to watch.
They weren't real. She couldn't really turn into one! But on the eve of her seventh birthday, she did. It hurt, like a bitch, and
her mother and father had come storming into the room when they'd heard her cry out. But when they realized what was
happening, all they did was step back, Russell put his arm around his wife shoulders, and they both smiled as they
watched their daughter turn into a wolf for the first time. She was a late transformer; her father had first gone into werewolf
form at only the age of three, her mother was one, and her sister four.

It honestly varied from person to person, but she just blames it on the fact that she's an Alpha now. Her wolf needed more
time to mature before it made itself seen.

But it still makes her smile when she sees her golden paws imprint the soil like they were meant to be there, and half the
time, she wishes she could stay as a wolf and just live in the wilderness with her pack. It's freeing, and rejuvenating, and
fuck it's everything she's ever dreamed of. But she's a human at the end of the day; and her human needs come first.
She's only minutes away from the park when her ears prick up. She can hear something, it's close, but not so close that
she has to be worried. It's around half a mile away, to her right, in the trees. She's half tempted to go search, it could be a
deer or something, and that steak, no matter how big, didn't really fill her up that much.

But she stops herself, and continues on, because if Rachel is at the park waiting for her, she knows she won't stick around
long if she isn't there. She's already in the dog house, well...wolf house, but whatever, and she doesn't want to make it
anymore worse then it already is.
The dash across the road is imminent, and she can see the wire fencing of the park right in front of her. Her right paw
moves forward in preparation for a mad dash, but before she can move, she hears a click behind her.

Rachel decides that even though she's being a bitch after reading all of Quinn's texts and allowing them to go
unanswered, she's not going to go to the park. The fact that Quinn thinks she can deal with everything if she's in wolf form,
and she usually can, because Rachel just tends to melt whenever she sees those golden hazel eyes, and that cute little
snout, and those twitchy ears that just begged to be scratched, this time it can't be sorted.
So she sits in her room, staring at the clock on her bedside table, just watching it click from 11:59 to 12:00 in the blink of
an eye. She should be at the park now, but she can't, and she won't. She's going to stand strong, because she knows that
Quinn is well in the wrong here.
She's going to stand her ground.

She drifts off sometime around quarter past twelve, only because the day has just been emotionally exhausting for her,
and it feels as if she's only been asleep a few minutes when she hears a commotion outside. She puts it down to drunks
coming home from a night out or something, and settles back down in her pillows, cradling herself against the pillow that
Quinn tends to use whenever she takes a nap.

Less than a minute later, she hears her dad, walking down the hallway. Weird, to say he has work in less than six hours.
So she gets up, gets herself up out of her warm cocoon and opens her bedroom door. Hiram is halfway down the stairs at
the end of the hall, and he seems to be in a rush, so she follows him.
He's outside the front door, barely, just leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest.

"Are you okay, dad?" She asks from the top of the stairs. He jumps slightly, but turns to regard his daughter, "Why are you
up?"

"It's nothing honey, go back to bed, okay? You have school in the morning."
She would usually keep asking, but the look in his eyes just makes her back up and return to her room.

She's in her first lesson of the day when she hears, "Did you hear?" Puck asks Finn from his seat behind her, "I heard they
caught that wolf that attacked that Hunter dude a few months back."
Her pen slips from her hand, eyes staring blankly at her desk, "No way! They finally did?"

"Yeah, one of those hunting groups shot it or something."

She feels sick.

"Finally. Kurt was beginning to get on my nerves, thinking that a giant wolf was gonna come jumping through his window
and eat him or something."

She needs to be sick.

"Or eat his moisturising shit."

And they're fucking laughing. She needs to get out.

"Rach, you okay?" She hears Finn ask, but she's already packed up her things and halfway out the door.

Quinn, text me back. Please.

Answer your phone, Quinn.
ANSWER YOUR PHONE!
But there's nothing, and she's just sitting alone in her car, tapping the bottom of her bedazzled phone on her steering
wheel. She keeps texting, keeps ringing, keeps leaving messages, but there's nothing just white noise.

By the time she finally gets a call, she's sobbing and she's already picked all of the bedazzled jewels off of her phone with
a shaky hand.

Rachel, honey. I'm at the Fabray house.

Her dad.

She's over there in less than ten minutes, and she swears she's gone through three red lights just to cut time. She expects
to receive some sort of fine, but she could hardly care less, because she's slamming her fists down on the front door of the
Fabray household and she only stops when Judy comes to the door.

"Oh my God..."
"Oh honey," Judy wraps her arms around Rachel as she collapses against her, and just stays there, content to hold her as
the girl sobs, "She's okay...she's okay..."
And she just cries more, because she knows she was that close to losing the one good thing in her life.

Hiram Berry walks out of Quinn Fabray's room and clasps Russell's hand in his, "She'll be fine. The bullet went clear
through her leg, so the wound is clear. I've stitched her the best I could possibly do with what I had and it's bandaged tight.
I'll change it when I come back in a few days."

"Thank you." The older Fabray sighs, "Thank you so much, Hiram."
"Don't mention it." He takes his hand back and shakes his head, "I just don't understand why you wouldn't take her to the
hospital. She lost a lot of blood, Russ."
"We don't like hospitals, Quinn especially. She never has, not after watching her grandmother die."

"Russ..."
"Just leave it at that, Hiram. Please."

Hiram looks far from happy with the answer his lifelong friend has given, but he just nods half-heartedly and looks down the
hall toward Judy and his daughter. Rachel is shaken, visibly, and she looks like she's been crying.

"Baby, are you okay?" He wraps his arm around her, and quietly thanks Judy as she walks around them both to talk to her
husband, "Quinn is going to be okay."

But Rachel, without thinking, just says, "The hunting party."

Russell and Judy's head snap up from their whispered conversation, and Rachel can barely see them shake their heads
at her, "Hunting party? Baby...? Quinn was shot after someone tired to steal her purse."
"I..." She clears her throat and swallows heavily, her throat bobbing gently, "Oh. But...she's going to be okay?"

Hiram raises an eyebrow and regards his daughter silently, before eventually saying, "Yes. She'll be fine. She needs a lot
of bed rest, but she'll be fine."

He holds her as she slowly begins to calm down, just running smooth patterns up and down her back with the palms of his
hands. She always enjoyed it as a baby, especially when she wouldn't sleep at night; he'd just do the same pattern over
and over again, only using the palms of his hands, and eventually, no matter how distressed she was, she would go out
like a light no problem.

She calms and pulls back, wiping the tears from her eyes with the arm of her sweater, "Can I see her...?"
"She's sleeping right now. How about you come back tomorrow after school and see her then, okay?"

"But..."
"Rachel, honey. It's for the best." Judy butts in gently, "Quinn needs to rest. I'll call you if she wakes up, okay?"

She knows she's outnumbered, so she just nods and allows her father to walk her out. He goes to work, and she goes
home at her father's request, because after everything, she can't go back to school with her emotions going haywire.

As she pulls into the driveway of her house, she pulls out her newly non-bedazzled phone and calls a familiar number.
"Why was she shot?"

"The hunting party."

It's all she needs to know.

She manages to go to school the next day, only after he dad orders her to go; that moping around the house will do
nothing for her mood. She needs to go to school, see her friends, sing in Glee Club. But she feels if she opens her mouth
to sing she'd just burst out crying.

Finn is by her side, for some stupid reason as soon as she gets to her locker. She says hello, because she's nice, and
he's a good friend, but he's pulling something out his letterman jacket pocket and handing it to her, "I bought you
something."

She looks at it. Literally, she just stares at the long package, and she knows what it is, because it's all Finn gives as a
present when he can't think of anything else. First it was the necklace with his name on, then it was the one with the star
on...which one would it be now?

"Open it." He smiles bashfully, pushing it further toward her. She wants to clonk him over the head with it, but she just tears
open the packaging half-heartedly, opens the box and drops uninterested eyes to look inside.

But then there's tears in her eyes as she regards the jewellery.
"I know I've been a bit of a jerk with you and Quinn getting together, because y'know, I still love you and all. But she makes
you happy and...well, this is kind of a gift for the two of you. To say I'm happy for you and that I'm gonna back off."
It's two different necklaces, both silver, one with R engraved, and the other Q. It's oddly symbolic, and as she shuts the box
again, she looks up and envelops Finn in a tight hug. He has to bend down to hug her, but he just smiles and pats her
gently on the back. "Just be happy, okay? She makes you a lot happier then I ever could."

And she does.

She feels Santana glaring at her from across the choir room, and usually, she doesn't let it bother her. But her defences
are down, she doesn't have Quinn or her wolf here to protect her, so she just slides down in her seat, almost like she's
trying to disappear. She feels so small, so insignificant, and the glare from both Santana and Brittany (Because whatever
Santana does, she mimics) just makes her feel like a pile of shit.

When Glee is over, she half expects Santana to storm out, closely followed by a pinky linked Brittany. Brittany does leave,
but Santana doesn't. And as the rest of the club files out the room, Santana stands by the piano, arms crossed tightly over
her chest.
"You've fucked my friendship with Q up."

"Excuse me?" She asks, because she honestly has no idea what the hell she's talking about. "I don't believe I know what
you're talking about, Santana."

"Oh cut the crap. Thanks to you and Quinn going all hero on your ass she tossed me out like nothing. I've known her longer
than you, Berry, and I believe friends come before girlfriend's...right?"

"If that's what you like to think. But I still don't know what you're talking about Santana, I haven't spoken to Quinn in almost
two days."

"Oh...so she throws me out on my ass and then falls out with you? Hysterical. I should mark it on my fuckin' calendar. I'll tell
you now Berry," She's so menacingly close, finger to her chest, almost nose to nose, "Just because you're Quinn Fabray's
girlfriend doesn't mean you're more popular or that people are going to flock to you because they want to be your friend.
You're still that insignificant twerp that sings Broadway tunes and dresses like you're in kindergarten. That'll never
change."
She has no fucking idea where it comes from, but before she can stop it, she spits out, "But I have Quinn. And you don't.
Where's your popularity now, Santana?"
She expects a punch, or some form of slap, but instead Santana's leaning back, eyes narrowed dangerously, "She's not
here right now, is she?" She gestures around the room, almost mockingly, "Where's your little hero now, Berry?"
Lying in a bed, leg bandaged, half asleep on pain medication.

Tears prick her eyes, and Santana sees it as a win, "Don't cross paths with me Berry, or I'll make you regret it."
She doesn't want to go into the room, although she knows she has to. She's already put it off by drinking a glass of water
downstairs and talking to Russell and Judy about the attack. Apparently a member of the hunting party had caught sight of
Quinn as they passed through the woods. They'd only managed to see part of her body through the trees, and had to shoot
at an awkward angle, hence the shot only to her back leg. She had managed to run away and get back home before
collapsing in the hallway outside the living room. Russell, luckily enough, had been up and tended to his daughter.

"My dad woke up in the middle of the night, he was just staring out into the street."

Judy sighs distastefully, "Apparently the hunting group that shot Quinn decided to parade around the streets with their
victory." She snarls, "It's disgusting."
With a heavy breath, just to calm down the heavy thumping of her heart, she twists the doorknob and pushes ever so gently
against the wood to gain her entry. She can't look at the bed, not until the door is closed and she can cry without some
comfort of knowing the Fabray's downstairs might not hear her.

So when that door closes, and she turns and catches sight of her girlfriend, pale, tucked up to the chest with her blankets,
hair fanned out against the pillow. She just sobs. She could have died. She could have died that night and she would have
never have even known. If she had spoken to Quinn, if she had just answered those texts instead of being so damn
stubborn Quinn would be awake, smiling, laughing, kissing her and telling her not to be silly.

But she's just laying there, chest falling and rising in a slow succession. She's sleeping so peacefully. With nimble fingers,
Rachel picks up part of the blanket and looks at the bandage on Quinn's right leg. It's wrapped tightly, so tightly, and she
sees where the bullet went in and out, because the usually stark white bandage is soiled with dried blood.
She drops to her knees and collapses against the bed, sobbing against Quinn's neck, and quietly pleading into those
ears that are usually so keen, "Please wake up. Just let me know you're okay."
But her plea goes unheard.

Russell Fabray watches the sleeping figure slumped across the bed from his daughter's doorway. Rachel is sleeping, but
her cheeks are stained with dried tears, eyes puffy and swollen, hands clutching so tightly to the blanket that surrounds
Quinn's chest.

With a sigh, he leans down toward Rachel, brushes the hair away from her face and whispers, "Rachel. Wake up." Slowly,
she does, eyes bleary as the open, and they shoot from wall to wall slowly as she tries to remember where she is. "That's
it. Come on, we'll go get you something to eat."
"I'm...not really hungry." She lies, but Russell just picks her up, wrapping her arm around his strong neck, "Russell..."

"You're eating or you're going home. Pick your choice."

Obviously, she chooses to eat.

Judy took the privilege to buy in some Vegan ingredients, because somehow, she knows that Rachel will be around for a
while. So Rachel only has to wait minutes until a warm dish is being pulled from oven, and a portion of mushroom risotto is
being piled onto her plate. She accepts it warmly, and after taking the first bite, and Judy's questioning look, the way she
scoffs the rest down, answers Judy's question of: Is it nice?
"She's turning into our daughter," Russell quips as he watches her eat, and she soon slows down, because she knows
what Quinn looks like when she eats, and it so isn't pretty. "How are you feeling now?"

"Better," She mumbles after swallowing a mouthful of mouthwatering risotto, honestly, it seems to melt in her mouth. Judy
should be a damn chef, "When will Quinn wake up?"
"Her body is still healing," Judy replies, pouring more onto her plate from the oven dish in her hand, "Werewolves tend to
sleep off their injuries. She should wake up in a day or two."
"Speaking of which, I should really tell Hiram not to come around. If he sees her healed leg after three days, he'll know
something is wrong." Russell butts in, scratching his chin, which is scratchy and unshaven.
"I'll tell him you got a stay at home nurse to stay with her or something. He'll believe that, right?"

"With how protective Russell is of his daughters?" Judy asks, "Yes."

Russell and Rachel smile.

An old man is in Quinn's room the next day when she arrives after school. It wasn't hard, today, because Santana seemed
to be keeping away and Finn was just being a nice friend to her all day, and didn't overstep any boundaries. Although he
did ask where Quinn was. To which she just said she was ill and was just staying at home until it passed. He seemed
happy enough with that.
But this guy just looks at her when she walks in, takes one almighty sniff and says, "You're Rachel."

That's...just terrifying.
"Yes." She doesn't shut the door this time, because she isn't even sure if he's meant to be in here. She's half tempted to
shout for Judy, because Russell is at work, but he seems friendly enough.
"I'm Alfred Noble." He extends his hand, which she takes, because she knows who he is now. "I'm the one training her."

"Oh." She doesn't really have anything else to say, because after all, she doesn't really want to know what they're doing
with all the bruises Quinn comes home with afterwards.

"She's a strong girl, Rachel. She'll be up and about in no time. I've already checked her leg, and it's already healed."
"It's only been a few days."
And he winks so playfully, "That's an Alpha wolf for you." She's charmed by him, and he makes her more comfortable
when she glances down to Quinn, who looks a lot more better than she did the day before. The color is back in her
cheeks, and altogether, seems a lot more comfortable.

"So she should wake up soon?"

He nods happily, "I'll bet my last dollar its within the hour." He pats her gently on the shoulder as he leaves, "You make her
happy. She tries so much to tame her wolf for you."
"I know," Is all Rachel can whisper in return as she watches the rise and fall of her girlfriend's chest.

It's been an hour, and she hasn't woken up. She doesn't have time to worry though, by her bedside, because her phone is
ringing. With a grunt, she leans over to her bag and pulls it out before bringing it to her ear.
"Yes?"

"Rachel?"
Leroy.

"Yes?"

"Hi. I was...just wondering if you were doing okay. You haven't been around for the past couple of days, I was starting to
get worried."
She just bites down on her bottom lip and shuts her eyes, "I've been busy."

"Okay. How's school?"

"It's fine."

"Great."
She opens her eyes and looks down to her lap, and she can hear the hesitation in his voice, but she doesn't let it last,
"Was that all?"

"You don't call me daddy anymore." He whispers at the same time, but she hears it, and she taps her finger on the base
of her phone, gently, slowly.
She can't lie to him, although all he's ever done for the past few months is lie to her, so she just sighs and says, defeated,
"I don't really think you deserve the title."

"Oh..." His voice is so weak, and somewhere inside her, something breaks, "Well...I'll uhm...leave you to it then."
"Yeah."

"I love you, Rach..."

"I know. Bye." She flips the phone shut and just sighs.
"That was painful," It's groggy, and her head snaps up almost immediately, looking at her with warm hazel eyes, is Quinn,
awake, well, half asleep, but she's awake, "You okay?"
Rachel scoffs, "You're asking me if I'm okay?" She sits up on her knees and leans over Quinn, effectively barring her
against the pillows, "You were shot, Quinn Fabray! Don't you understand?"
"I understand. And I'm fine."

"You..." Rachel slumps back again, "It was my fault."

Quinn frowns, "Why do you say that?" She tries to roll over onto her side, but even though the wound in her leg is healed, it
still aches like a fucking bitch, so she just stays still, and tries to shuffle ever so slightly closer toward her dejected
girlfriend.

"If I had answered your texts, you wouldn't have needed to go to the park that night. Everything would have been fine."
"But you didn't," Rachel looks up slowly, "But it's in the past, and I'm still here, alive and kicking. Well, not kicking yet, but I
will be soon enough." Quinn adds a cocky smirk, and Rachel chuckles ever so slightly. "So. Are you okay?"
"Except for thinking I almost got you killed, oh I'm fine."
Quinn rolls her eyes, "I meant Leroy."

"Oh." But she stays silent, because she thinks if she talks about it, she'll just burst out sobbing. And she's sick and tired of
crying all the time, it's all she's done since Leroy cheated, and she just wants it to stop, at least for a little while.

But Quinn's patting the side of the bed that's unoccupied, and Rachel doesn't hesitate to get up and stumble to the other
side of the bed. "I won't hurt your leg if I get on, will I?"

Quinn chuckles, "You're not mounting a horse, Rachel."

But she gets on the bed like she's mounting a horse anyway, and Quinn just laughs until Rachel is snuggled tightly at her
side, arm resting over her abdomen. "Feel better?" She asks, kissing the top of the brunette's head softly.
"Kinda."

"Wanna talk about it...?"

"The hunting party?"

Quinn rolls her eyes, yet again, "No. Your father."

"Talk about the hunting party first...then I'll talk about him."

"Rach..."
"I just want to know what happened. It'll...ease my mind a little."

Quinn pulls back as best she can, and tilts Rachel's face up with a finger under her chin, "Why do you say that?"
"I was the last to know, and I'm your girlfriend Quinn, I just...I at least want to know what happened, how you felt, it'll make
me feel a little less inadequate."
"Rachel..."

"Please?" And she asks with a kiss to Quinn's soft lips.

"Baby, I haven't brushed my teeth in like...I don't know how many days."

"I don't care," Rachel mumbles back, just content to feel Quinn's lips and tongue against hers again. They kiss
languishingly, slowly, almost as if they're trying to re-memorize each other's mouths once again. They take their time, and
not a single flick of a tongue is rushed. The way Quinn's hands fist the back of her blouse just makes her melt further into
the girl beneath her, and she finally knows that Quinn is really okay. "Tell me..." She finally mumbles, pulling back.

The aphrodisiac is there, and Quinn is panting softly, but it's not as pent up, it's sedate, and it's almost like she's coming
home to something.

"I was about to run across the road to the park," Rachel settles herself back down against Quinn's side, and squeezes the
blonde's ribs gently to let her know when she's settled, "I thought I heard something a little earlier on, but I just put it down to
a deer or something. But I literally had one paw on the road, and I heard this mute click. Like the sound of a gun being
cocked, and then I just felt it. I didn't see it, but I felt it in my back leg. I knew I'd been shot, but I didn't stay around to see
what happened because I heard some...guy shout from in the trees 'I shot the fucker'."
"So you ran...?" Rachel whispers against Quinn's neck, placing soft chaste kisses to the skin, just to soothe and not to
tease.
"I had to, or I would have been..." The kisses to her neck stop, "You know." The kisses continue and she melts back into
the touch, "I was struggling by the time I got onto my street, but I managed to get through the door and transform back into
my human self before I collapsed on the floor. I...don't remember much then, just my dad saying some stuff really."

"My dad bandaged your leg for you."

"I'll have to thank him for that."
She feels Rachel smile against her neck, and she knows it's coming, "Thank him at dinner when you're feeling better
then."
But she knows what avoiding things can do to a person, or to a wolf, so she just smiles, presses a kiss to the top of
Rachel's head and mumbles, "Sure."

They talk for hours, because they feel as if they haven't seen each other in years. It's satisfying to watch Rachel laugh once
more when she tickles her, or the way she chastises her with a soft 'Quinn Fabray!' when she nibbles on her neck.
Both Judy and Russell had come up hours before with dinner that they both demolished. Well, Quinn demolished both hers
and Rachel's, so either way, both plates were empty and almost licked clean by the time they were done with. Both the
Fabray's seemed happy with Quinn's progress, and told Rachel she cold sleep over if she promised to let their daughter
rest and made sure Rachel herself, got to school.
They steadfastly agreed. But they hadn't slept, and just toyed with their intertwined fingers, kissing softly and making sure
their bodies were as close as possible.
"Your wolf isn't jumping for me."

"My wolf's ego is battered. It'll take a few hours for it to want you in that primal way again."
Rachel softly giggles and presses a kiss to Quinn's nose, once again enjoying the way that her face scrunches up, "Good
thing I leave in a few hours for school, then."
Quinn sighs, "Yeah. I guess so."

"I'll be back straight after." Rachel promises, and Quinn honestly believes her, because she knows Rachel won't abandon
her. But then the mood is shifting, and Quinn smells it on Rachel, "What happened with Santana?"

"Huh?" Ah, fuck. "She just riled me up that's all."

"Riled you up, or your wolf up?"

"Both."
"Ah." Rachel shifts closer, if it's even possible, and she lowers her voice, "What happened?"

Quinn's eyes shoot from the dark brown of Rachel's eyes, they seem to glow in the early light of sunrise, and it shows the
true beauty of her girlfriend. She looks so pure, almost angelic, and it honestly takes her breath away.

"She just...She thinks that my being with you, brings down her rep. She didn't say it, but she insinuated that I needed to
choose between you and her."

Rachel's face is poker, and Quinn thinks she's said something wrong, but then she's smiling, so softly and kissing Quinn
for all she's worth. She's on her back before she knows it, and Rachel is carefully, gingerly straddling her hips as to not
knock her leg. "You chose me," She whispers against soft lips.
And Quinn just smiles and says, "I'll always choose you." Before kissing her girlfriend in the haze of a beautiful morning
sunrise.
*Chapter 5*: Sunset
Her paws pound heavily on the dirt below. Fast paced, brutal, she feels the exhaustion wash over her body as she just
keeps running, and running and running, trying to escape the inevitable. She just needs to get away, get away for a few
hours, minutes, seconds. She needs to breathe again, just feel again. Her muscles ache and burn as she leaps over a
fallen log and into the undergrowth, she sees it, right there, and with mouth wide open, teeth bared and at the ready, she
launches and sinks her teeth into the tiny body of a rabbit in mid-leap.

It feels glorious as the blood drips from it's twitching body and onto her long tongue; she savours it. This, she was in
control of. No one could take that away from her. No one could stop her from transforming, going for a run and just being
the wolf that she is. She doesn't have to hide, or dismiss the idea of her heritage. Here, she's an Alpha wolf, the leader of
the pack and nothing more. Nothing else needs to be said.

And as she clenches her jaw over the rabbit's neck and then snaps it, it all comes crashing down on her. She can run all
she wants, train all she wants, hunt all she wants; at the end of the day, it still needs to be done. She needs to get all
dressed up, she needs to be on her best behaviour, she needs to prove that she's good for Rachel.

She needs to go to dinner with Rachel and Hiram Berry, because if she doesn't, Rachel won't hesitate to make her life
hell.
That or nag her to death.

Russell watches as his daughter comes in from her hunt, halfway through pulling up a pair of shorts as she enters through
the doors that lead in through the backyard. She looks exhausted; hair matted to her forehead, face drenched in sweat,
veins pulsing with blood that refused to slow down.

"Good hunt...?" Russell asks casually as he looks up from his paper. He's only just got in from work, and a part of him is a
little upset that his daughter couldn't wait a few hours until he got home. They never seem to hunt anymore, and Quinn
always seems to be distant, dealing with her own things, in her own way.
"Yeah, it was okay." Quinn says from the kitchen, still out of breath. He hears the fridge hum as his daughter opens it and
he smirks.
"Don't you dare eat the cookies in there, Quinn."

"Urgh. Fine." But the fridge door doesn't close, and without rustling his paper, he listens to his daughter's movements. She
hasn't moved, the fridge door is still open, what the hell is she doing?

Then he hears it and he rolls his eyes, "Put the cookie down."
"God dammit!"

He just smirks and returns to his paper. He's vaguely aware of Quinn joining him on the couch and flicking on the TV. He's
too engaged in reading about the stock markets to even notice what she's watching, but when he turns the page, her scent
hits him and he rears back almost like he's been punched.
"What?" Her eyes snap to his, and they're still glowing a golden hue, just like usually so close after transforming back,
"What's wrong?"
"You're terrified."

Quinn's head snaps toward him, and she's biting down on her bottom lip, "No I'm not."
"Don't lie to me, Quinn. I can smell it all over you."

She opens her mouth so she can lie again, but her father's gaze is unwavering, and almost frightening. He seems to read
her like an open book, and only when she leans down to sniff her own armpit, because it just has to be done, does she
smell the terror she's exuding. And it fucking reeks.
"Jesus, I reek."
And she does. And she knows why she's terrified, and why her father is downright shocked that she is. An Alpha is never
suppose to exude that type of fear, and when his eyes run up and down her body almost like he's inspecting her, she can't
help but worry that little bit more.

"What's wrong? Have you been having nightmares again?"

The nightmares that seem to plague her every night. The shooting incident, as it was dubbed, seemed to have struck her
a lot deeper than she originally thought. At first, it didn't really bother her; because after all, her leg was only hurt and she
got out of it relatively unscathed. But when she fell asleep after Rachel had left for school, the first nightmare of many would
come to haunt her.
She was running through an open plane. Just grass. Nothing more. And only the haze of a purple sky haunts her from up
above. But she isn't a wolf. She was a human, and she feels those hunters behind her. She can't see them, or hear them,
but she can sense them, and no matter how hard she tries to transform into her strong Alpha wolf to run that little bit faster,
she can't. And then her leg starts to hurt, a deep impenetrable ache that seems to engulf her entire body. She only makes
it a few more yards before she collapses to the earth, sharp grass digging into the skin of her face. No matter how hard
she tries, she can't get up. Her body is weak, so weak, but she can still feel them gaining on her, so she wills her body to
get up. But it doesn't. And so she lays there in the grass, a hazy purple sky turning thunderous and violent. She hears the
click of a gun, and then only the shot of a gun when she wakes up screaming in her bed, sweat dripping down her body
and soaking her clothes.

It's horrible, and she has it nightly. That same hazy purple sky just seems to mock her, and her body that seems unwilling
to co-operate just makes her angry. So when she transforms, she makes sure that her body is ready, and strong, and fast,
and can deal with the sudden change. Her wolf appears in a fascinating show of dominance and rage, and it feels so
deliciously perfect that she, herself, can't understand it. Her wolf is there, strong as always, but in her dreams...

She knows the dreams aren't real, and that maybe it's just PTSD, but in her heart of hearts, she knows it's because she
was scared she was going to die. Hearing the shot of that one gun, could have ended her life, could have ended
everything special she had.
"No, it's not the dreams." Because it's not. It's not what she's terrified about although the dreams are terrifying in their own
right, but they just make her feel enraged, incapable, little. She isn't fucking little, she's an Alpha, and she knows how
strong she is, so when those dreams disallow everything she knows she's capable of doing, she just wants to scream. "It's
dinner."
"I know I'm not a very good cook, but even I can cook meatloaf."

She snorts, because he truly is a horrible cook, and the only reason her mother isn't cooking is because it's a girl's
day/night out with her friends. Russell insists she has one at least once a week, just to get out of the house; because even
though she's a stay at home mom, she needs at least to have some down time.
"It's not that, dad."

"Then what about dinner? Don't you want meatloaf...?"

No she doesn't, because she knows it's going to be raw inside, but whatever. "No dad, I mean..." She sighs and slams her
head back against the cushions of the couch, "I have to go to dinner with Hiram Berry next week."
"Ah." Russell folds up his paper, meticulously, just like always, before putting it down beside him. He turns his body slightly
and gives his full attention to his daughter, because after all, meeting the parents is always a big deal. And although Quinn
has seen Hiram on more than one occasion, they haven't really spoken, and well, she wasn't dating his daughter back then
either. "Hence why you're terrified. You think he won't accept you."
"Well that and..." She shrugs her shoulders, "I guess I'm scared my wolf will want to threaten him, show him that she
belongs to me now."
He chuckles, "Well as long as you don't thump your chest, throw her over your shoulder and scream 'mine' in his face, I'm
sure you'll be in the clear."
"I'm not a caveman, dad."

"Have you seen the way you eat?" He quips, "You might need to work on that too. I'll have your mother teach you some
etiquette so you don't get any of the food he cooks down your clothes or in your hair."

Her cheeks color in mortification, "It was one time..." She whispers in a meek voice.
"Oh, it was more than once Quinn."

"So now I have to be trained by Alfred for my wolf and my mom for eating?"
"I didn't raise you to eat like a pig." He picks up his paper and unfolds it, "And if you want to make a good impression,
you'll use both your mother and Alfred's training to your advantage."
"Lord have mercy."

"Amen."

Hey baby! You excited for Friday night?

Yeah totally.
Excellent. I'm just texting to tell you that although our dinner meeting is five days away, you must prepare yourself to
meet my father.
Oh...?
Yes! My father is a highly regarded surgeon, Quinn. He's very smart, and if you try to be anyone but yourself, he will
know. So just be your charming usual self and he'll fall in love with you.
My charming usual self is usually attached to your neck, though. How would he find that?
Quinn. I'm sure by now, and you have proven this, that your wolf is easier to tame. If it would help I will sit across the
dinner table from you, I'm in the midst of creating a seating plan anyway.
There's three of us...
Seating plans are always needed, Quinn, don't be lazy. After all, my father will be at the head of the table, me opposite
you on either side.
No! Oh my Jesus Christ no, you need to sit next to me.
Why?
Because I'll die if you don't.
I'm rolling my eyes at you right now.
Seriously, please, and can I sit further away from him so you can kind of block me from his eyes.
...You're being ridiculous.
Rachel, baby, please, just do this for me. I'm already worried as it is.
Why are you worried?
Because of my wolf. I know I can tame it a lot better, but well...there's always a chance that it'll show it's dominance
toward your father.
Why would it do that?
To prove that your mine.
Oh...
Rachel?
Rach?
Are you okay?
I'll ring you if you don't text back.
Please answer your phone.
I'm going to bed. I'll see you at school tomorrow, goodnight xxxxx

Luckily, she catches Rachel just before first period. She's at her locker, saying goodbye to Finn who waves and lumbers
off down the hallway to find Puck. She knows about the necklaces that Finn bought them both, and she does wear it,
because in a way, it just proves that she belongs to one Rachel Berry, but she still can't help but feel threatened by Finn
and his present giving.

Her wolf settles when he finally turns a corner, thankfully, and she walks up to her girlfriend, shutting the locker door before
she can.

"Why did you stop talking to me last night?" She asks, both miffed and upset.
Rachel sighs, rolls her eyes and looks back to her locker to open it once more. But Quinn's hand, pale and perfect is
resting down hard against the metal. "Quinn, let me into my locker."
"Will you just tell me? Did I say something to offend you?"
But she's quiet, and only when Quinn reluctantly pulls her hand away to let Rachel back into her locker, does she open her
mouth. "I didn't like what you said."

"What...? What did I say?" She knows what she said, she read her sent messages over and over again the night before to
try and understand what she said that made Rachel stop talking to her.

Rachel just smells like anger, but there's an underlying smell that Quinn can't identify when her girlfriend finally opens her
mouth and says, "'To prove that you're mine.' Ring a bell...?"

"What's wrong with that? I don't understand."

Then Rachel's slamming her locker shut and crossing her arms primly over her chest, "I'm not property, Quinn. I don't
belong to anyone. I belong to myself, I control myself."
"I know that. But it's just-,"

"I know what it is. I know that's how it works in that society but it must send the feminist movement back around fifty years."

Quinn rolls her eyes, "I thought you understood. You did all that research, you even made that power point presentation.
That's how things work with me and my 'society'." She even makes quotation marks with her fingers, because she's
getting a little annoyed, and Rachel just rolls her eyes at it, "That's how it's always worked. You're the one I urge for, you're
the one that I need to have in my life, I can't help it if my..." She glances over her shoulder and back again, "You know,
needs to show that in some way."

"I understand that..."

"No, you really don't, because you wouldn't have gotten annoyed. It's not a bad thing when I say 'you're mine.' I don't mean
it in a way that I own your soul or anything it's just...no one else can have you..." She ends weakly, and looks down to her
feet. She can't say anything more, because there's nothing else to say. If Rachel can't understand that basic need that her
wolf needs to have then she doesn't know what she'll-

Rachel's tilting her head up and kissing her, clasping hands around her strong neck and holding her there as their lips
massage one another's. It's tender, and caring, and almost loving. It's a silent and secret declaration that yes, Rachel does
understand, and that she's sorry she blew it all out of proportion. So Quinn accepts it by accepting Rachel's tongue into
her mouth, and wrapping arms around a petite waist.
They hold one another, just content to kiss, eyes closed and just enjoying the feel of one another as time ticks by and
students walk to their classes. Then Rachel's pulling and resting her forehead against Quinn's, noses bumping slightly
together, "I understand."

"Do you really?" Quinn whispers, pulling Rachel as close as she can. She feels the rough texture of one of Rachel's
cardigan against her arms, and it feels perfect, and she just needs the girl even closer. "Do you know what I mean?"

"Yes and if it helps, I don't want anyone else. But I would ask you try and restrain yourself in front of my father." She pecks
a kiss to Quinn's nose and smirks, "I'm sure he has a few scalpels in his work bag."

She wishes running away was still an option.

He isn't talking, but she can feel his unwavering gaze upon her. They're running, side by side, and she knows she isn't
being as fast as she can be, and she knows it's because all she can see is floating scalpels in the back of her mind. He
can tell, and she can smell that he's beyond pissed off. She isn't trying, so she fastens her steps, but he's skidding to a
stop in front of her, his body barring her from her run.

You're slacking!
He's angry, and her wolf just pants, silently begging for air. She knows she's slacking, she knows she isn't trying, but that
dinner date with Rachel and Hiram is just making her lose her mind. She's scared her wolf won't be contained, she's
scared she'll make an ass out of herself, she's scared that Rachel will see her be violent and dominant and overly
protective and just become disgusted by it all.

I can't help it.

Yes you can! Grey eyes storm and they're face to face. There's a thick tension in the air, and it makes her fur just feel as if
it's on fire. He's not suppose to argue with her wolf, she's the fucking Alpha, not him.

Don't order me around, Alfred.

And they're both growling, forehead to forehead as both their head's lower to the ground. Eyes are trained on one another,
golden hazel on stormy grey. You're being a child worrying about a stupid dinner when you should be training to control
your urges. Priorities!
Don't order me around.
Teeth are bared, Quinn's to be exact, and Alfred just remains stoic, eyes trained, noses snuffing at the dirt. He's breathing
hard, because honestly, he's terrified. Quinn is a strong wolf, and the way her sharp white teeth glint in the afternoon
sunlight, it sends a shiver through his fur.

I won't waste my time training you if all you will do is procrastinate over your girlfriend!
And Quinn's jaw is snapping at his snout, and he manages to pull back, but only barely, because he still feels those sharp
teeth fly through the hair on his nose. He stands defensively, watching Quinn's movements carefully. She's haphazard, her
lean body is shaking and her growling is doing nothing to remedy the fact. He tries to calm her down, but her mind is
unreachable, clouded over with violence and determination. She wants to attack him, she wants to hurt him.

His human side quakes with fear, and although the wolf knows he shouldn't fight with an Alpha, he has no other choice. He
tries to bow his head in defeat, but before he can even flex a muscle in his thick neck, Quinn is leaping at him, and this
time he's not quick enough to dive out of the way.
She's on him, pinning him down with two strong paws, her whole body over his. They struggle, violently, and a dust of dirt
circles the struggling wolves as they snap at one another. He tries to reach out once more, to try and find her clear mind,
but there's nothing there, nothing but pure rage.
He knows he's messed up, and when he feels a heavy paw slam down against his back, he knows he might not make it
out alive.

But he fights, regardless. He's strong, he's always been strong. So he jolts his body around until she's flung across the flat
earth. But she's up again, and flinging herself back toward him. He dodges back, front paws kicking up dirt into her face,
and he's shocked when it doesn't faze her. Those golden hazel eyes are as strong as ever, brutal and deadly and his
paws quake with fear.

So he does the only thing he can do. He goes for her back leg, the leg that although healed still gives her pain. He snaps
at it, and he manages to rip at the fur surrounding it before she's out of the way again. The old wolf has no time to mourn
the loss though, because she's gone.
Quinn is gone. The air is oddly silent around him, the dust has settled back to the floor and only a light breeze settles
through the surrounding trees. He calls out to her, begging for her to see sense, to come back so they can start afresh, but
he hears nothing. He doesn't hear her voice, usually sweet and gentle, nor does he hear the thud of paws against the
ground.
A wolf can't just disappear within the blink of an eye and be unable to be heard. But then again, he's never seen an Alpha
before; he's only heard tales of strong and heroic wolves that lead their packs or gave their lives to protect them. He knew
nothing of their speed, or of their inevitable strength.
His grey eyes circle his surroundings, taking in each and every movement with a well trained eye. Only trees rustle, and
dust kicks up from the floor, but there's no golden wolf with a vendetta.

He turns fast, terrified to keep his back in one position for too long. Although Quinn was a young wolf, she was an Alpha, a
born tactician; her mind would make up countless strategies for battle even if she didn't want them to. So he moves, in a
small circle, keeping his body as small as possible in case of an attack, and flicks his eyes quickly in every direction he
can.

But then he hears the rustle of leaves behind him, brittle and shaky, and only manages to glance out of the corner of his
eye when he sees a blur of golden silver dive upon him, slamming his aged body to the ground with a heavy and painful
thud.
She was hiding in the trees.

He's only managed to stabilize one leg when Quinn gets her bearings back from the high drop, and only when his whole
body, shaking and wounded raises from the dirt, he feels sharp teeth dig into his throat, clenched down and ripping.

I need to see you.

Why? Is something the matter?
I just need to see you.
Quinn, you're scaring me.
I just keep screwing up.
Baby...Where are you? I'll come to you.
Park.
I'll be there soon. Do not move!

She expects Quinn to be human when she enters the park, but she's not. She's sat, dejected by the slide, body laying
down, head resting on outstretched paws, eyes closed. In the glow of the days sunset, her fur alights almost like a bolt of
fire; it's beautiful, and magnificent, and Rachel takes just a second to just enjoy the view.
But Quinn's wolf looks so dejected and hurt, and it breaks her heart as she moves toward her. She doesn't hesitate in her
steps, and she knows that Quinn knows she's there by the way those cute ears prick up into the air. She slides down to the
earth beside Quinn and strokes the fur on her head softly, dragging her fingers through the thickness of it. It never ceases
to amaze her how soft that fur is, and how just running her fingers through it make her feel that close to Quinn as both a
wolf and a human.

Quinn doesn't lift her head, and her eyes remain shut, but she mews softly at the fingertips that brush against her skull. It's
warming, and it makes her feel safe, makes her feel as if she's finally done something right. But she hasn't.

"What happened...?" She asks although she has a relatively good idea about what's happened.
Paws sift through the dirt on the ground, nails digging into the earth, almost as if they were trying to pull it free. But Rachel
just sits there, legs crossed, fingers still running a gentle pattern on Quinn's head before slowly making their way down a
strong neck.

"Tell me."
But her heart just breaks when Quinn slowly plants her head on Rachel's lap and burrows into the crevice between two
legs, almost as if she's trying to hide away from the world.

They'd sit together for a few hours, Quinn unwilling to revert back to her human side to talk. So Rachel assumes they just
needed that closeness; the feeling of one another to feel secure. When Quinn finally rises from her spot though, licks
gently at Rachel's cheek and then wanders off toward the wire fence, the singer just watches and silently mourns for her
girlfriend.

Judy Fabray is at home and fuming when Quinn returns, and all the blonde wants to do is go up to her room and bury
herself in her covers. For a few hours she managed to forget with Rachel, just sitting contently, allowing Rachel's smell and
touch to calm her down.

But when her mother plants herself in front of the stairway before she can even get to the bottom step, she knows she can't
avoid it, she knows she can't run away. So she lets her mother grab her by the shoulders, barely noticing the way her nails
dig through the thin material of her t-shirt, and pushes her into the living room.
"Mom..." She whispers, almost through a whine when she's pushed in, but no response comes because the door is
shutting cleaning behind her with a loud click. She's shut in and when she turns back to face her doom, she knows what to
expect and there sat alone on the couch is Alfred Noble, neck bandaged, two black eyes and crudely made arm sling.

"You need to see your father." Hiram comments over dinner, fork in the middle of twirling through some spaghetti, "You've
been avoiding him for two weeks. Your father thought it would be a good idea to go to dinner tomorrow night with him
and...Michael. You will be going."

Rachel just stares, because yes, she has been avoiding him. She doesn't want to see that fake happiness that he tries to
exude upon her; trying to make everything right again when it just isn't. She doesn't want to hear him gush about Michael
Hunter and the fact he's leaving a loving wife and two beautiful children behind just so they can be together. She doesn't
want to resign herself to the fact that Leroy is in fact gone and won't be coming back to their perfect little family.

"I don't want to..." She finally whispers, eyes landing back onto her half empty plate. She was hungry before he'd opened
his mouth, so she just pushes it away, and he watches her with questioning eyes.

"Why not?" He asks, like it's the simplest question on the earth. "Why don't you want to see your daddy?"
"Because he isn't my daddy anymore."

She hears him sigh, and his fork come to gently rest on his plate, "Avoiding him will do none of you any good. At the end
of the day, he's still your father, and if he chooses to move on with someone else than so be it."
"Why are you so calm about this?" She exclaims, eyes wide with astonishment, "Stop trying to act like it's okay! It's not,
dad. I hear you cry every night because you miss him, I know you do, I see it right now. You want him back. He's hurt you,
he's hurt me, he's hurt our family. What gives him the right to be happy and not us?"
And she's out of her chair, and barely registers the fact her father calls her name, voice shaken and broken, just silently
wishing everything would be okay again.

She hates this. She hates it so damn much. She's just sat in an arm chair, hands gripping the armrests like it's a damn life
line. The silence is deafening, and all she wants to do is bolt from the room. She's uncomfortable, she wants to leave, she
wants to see Rachel again, she wants to just fucking leave.
But she can't, and she's stuck in the damn chair because her body is almost too terrified to move. He's staring at her
through swollen black eyes, and she can't bare to look up from her lap at him. She knows what she did was disgusting and
unforgivable. At the end of the day, he's an 80 year old man that's just enjoying the rest of his life, and giving his valuable
time to give her the training she wouldn't be able to get anywhere else.
He's doing it all for her and she just repays him with a ripped throat and a broken arm. So when she finally looks up, eyes
lidded as she looks at him, he has such a look of compassion in his eyes that she just breaks down before him.
"I am so...so sorry..."

Because she is. She got angry but she had no right to fight, she had no right to injure a man that only wanted her to be the
strongest she possibly could. She had no right to fight a man that was almost like Grandpa Fabray from all those years
ago; a man that cared for her, sat her on his lap and called her Sunset because her eyes glowed with a ferocious need to
just live.

She knows Alfred loves her just like she's his own, and it just makes everything that much worse as she chokes on her
sobs.

"I'm so sorry!"
And he just listens to her cry, and feels tears prick his own eyes because she's just a scared little girl still trying to come to
terms with her power. She's a girl that has so much weight on her shoulders from being an Alpha. She's a girl that just
wants to hold her girlfriend's hand and not worry about the repercussions. She's just a girl that he adores with every fibre of
his being because she would do anything for anyone.
So when she calms down, and the tears are dried, and those watery hazel eyes dance across his battered face, does he
finally say;
"Apology accepted."

And she just breaks down all over again.

She has AP History with Rachel the next day at school, and only when she dots a kiss to her girlfriend's forehead as she
passes with a whispered 'I'll tell you all about it' in her ear, does she realize what's wrong with this class.

She has to sit next to one Santana Lopez, and one Santana Lopez, looks really fucking pissed.
Quinn glances over her shoulder at Rachel, who just shrugs with a wince before turning her attention back to the front
because Mr. Collins has just entered the room, looking like he's just finished a snack or something because he has a
mustard stain on his tie.

"Quinn."
It's tense as she sits down, but she just mutters, "Santana." And lets herself be content to just sit and listen to Mr. Collins'
damn lecture because the thought of holding a conversation with her ex best friend just makes her want to run away. She's
heard rumours that the Latina keeps razorblades in her hair.

They're about a quarter of the way through the lesson when she notices Santana tapping her pen in the corner of her eye.
It's almost melodic, and it takes a few rounds until she notices it's the chorus to 'Bad Girlfriend' by Theory of a Deadman.
She just shakes her head, but it makes her wonder if she's trying to insinuate that Rachel likes to get drunk and sleep
around, or if she's just got that song stuck in her head.
Her hand is cramped from scribbling notes down so fast, and only when she puts her pen down to crack the knuckles in
her left hand does a piece of paper slide over her notebook. Santana looks coy when she pulls her hand back and returns
to writing her notes, which are practically non-existent, and it makes her wolf feel uneasy.

So she pulls open the note and her eyes scan the hastily scribbled words.
How are things with lover girl?
Her brow scrunches up, because after the conversation she and Santana had, it's obvious that she doesn't want Quinn to
be with the singer, or anywhere near her for that matter. So she just grabs her pen and replies, why do you care? Before
sliding it back to the girl beside her.
Santana chuckles softly beside her and writes back quickly before shoving it back on top of Quinn's notebook.

Don't get me wrong, I couldn't give two fucks. I'm just asking how you and the hobbit are doing.
I swear to God if you call her that again I'll end you.
Reign in your uterus, Quinn. How are you and BERRY.
Fine. We're good. Excellent actually. Not breaking up, although that's what you want to hear.
I still don't know what you see in her. She's toxic.
She stands by me.
I stood by you Quinn, once upon a time before you chose the biggest loser in school to gain entrance into your wonder
down under.
You stood by my popularity, Santana. Not me.
The bell all but shrieks around the classroom, and when Quinn is by Rachel's side, smiling and taking her hand does she
hear the Latina say, "You couldn't be more wrong." Before leaving the room.

"What was that all about?" They're sat together, side by side at their table in the cafeteria. Quinn has her cookies, those
glorious cookies that are like gifts from the heavens, and Rachel has some weird concoction that even though the singer
states is delicious, looks like it belongs in some toxic waste vat and locked away.
"With what...?" She asks, hands stopping mid tear as they work their way into the bag on her lap.

"Santana."
Quinn just rolls her eyes and pulls out a sugar cookie, taking the time to smile at the simple decoration Rachel put on it. In
small cursive writing was R and Q, which was written in Quinn's favourite red icing. Okay, so there was nothing in the
house and her mother's icing kit was just there in the cupboard.

"She was just asking me how you and I were doing."

"And what did you say?" Her girlfriend asks before taking a sip of her water.

"That we were doing great and that we weren't breaking up."

Rachel just watches her, and it's slightly unnerving, so she just shoves the cookie into her mouth and chews slowly, content
to let the crunch be the only thing that fills the air between them both.
"Why doesn't she want me to be with you? I don't understand."

Quinn swallows, "I guess it's just because from when High School first started it was just me, her and Brittany. No one
really ever intruded on our little circle. I mean, we were nicknamed the Unholy Trinity for a reason. So when you came into
the picture, she just got...I dunno...threatened?"
"It's not like I was going to take you away from her..." Rachel brushes her bangs away from her eyes before cupping her
chin in the palm of her hand, "I mean, if it's such a problem-,"
"Don't even say it." Quinn growls, shuffling up the bench until both of their bodies are touching. She melts into the warmth
that Rachel exudes, and because it's the most natural thing in the world to her, she leans in and presses a kiss to the
throbbing pulse point at Rachel's neck, and smirks when the tan skin quivers beneath her pouting lips. "If she can't deal
with the fact that I'm with you, then I don't want her involved. She has to understand that you're not going anywhere."
"Oh I'm not...?" Rachel replies playfully, melting into the kisses that Quinn slowly begins to dot up her neck, tongue
dragging along the skin and making her mew with contentment.
"Definitely not." She growls into her ear, "If I have anything to do with it."

"Is that you or your wolf talking?" Rachel's voice is a mere whisper, "Because if it's you..."
"If it's me...?" She asks, nose brushing against the shell of her girlfriend's ear, tongue darting out to flick at her earlobe.
Rachel jolts in her seat, and both hands shoot down and clasp on the edge of the bench, grasping hard for some sort of
leverage.

"Quinn..."
And she smells it. It's heady and musky and so unbelievably pure, "Holy..." And Rachel moans, tilting her head back, taken
away with the need that her body exudes to care that they're in a packed cafeteria. Quinn is licking and biting at her neck;
smelling that scent that she knows she's giving off to let her know what she's doing to her.

Quinn is literally biting down on her neck, sucking hard and laving the skin with hot flicks of her tongue. It's intoxication, and
she doesn't want to stop because her body needs her girlfriend, needs to be touched, loved and pleasured. So she raises
a hand and grips hard onto her girlfriend's thick blonde mane and holds her there, unwilling to let her move an inch.
But Quinn's determination to hold back is quickly disappearing because that smell is so intoxicating and Rachel's skin
tastes so deliciously perfect. So she grips at the hand in her hair and pulls up, dragging Rachel along with her.
"Quinn..." She hears gasped behind her, because they both know what they're doing, but Quinn just rounds on her with
flicking golden hazel eyes, growls and she nearly fucking comes where she stands.

It's heavy, it's passionate, it's brutal. Quinn has her pinned up against a whiteboard in an abandoned classroom. Her legs
are wrapped tightly around a strong waist, hands clasped in a death vice grip on shoulders that quiver with passion and
their mouths work together like they were made for the job.
Quinn is growling, she's moaning, and hot tongues collide against one another in a dance that could leave anyone
quivering. One of Quinn's hands is already up inside her sweater, clawing at her abs, marking them in a silent declaration
that just screams 'mine' and their conversation earlier in the week just comes rearing to ahead.

She was Quinn's, she will always be Quinn's.

So when her werewolf girlfriend's hand moves up and rips down the cup that supports her breast, she allows Quinn to take
what she needs, what she wants, what they both need. Two fingers pinch, roll and twist, and her eyes just slam shut, head
slamming back against a whiteboard that threatens to snap in two under the pressure of their heated bodies.

She's in fucking heaven, but then Quinn's mouth is moving away from hers, down her throat, sucking at skin that's
scorching and heated as the hand against her breast disconnects and pushes up the sweater.

She's exposed, and the only thing that covers her chest is up against her neck, and anyone could walk in, but then that
fucking hot mouth is on her nipple and she just squeals because Quinn has a mouth that could make an angel cry. It
teases her and plays her like an instrument; an instrument made just for Quinn. Her back arches, she tries to push her
breast further into that mouth, and Quinn let's her, sucking, biting, licking.

Her hips instinctively move up and down in an hypnotic trance against Quinn's abs that are hard and strong from months of
vigorous training. She feels them through the thin material of her shirt, and her own skirt does wonders for the almost skin
on skin contact.
Wet panties ride up against a pale blue shirt, dragging and pulling, grinding down hard against muscle and bone. It's
fucking miraculous, and when Quinn all but howls against her chest, because yes, she's felt it, she's felt that moisture that
plagues her girlfriend's panties and marks her shirt. She knows the effect she's having and it just makes her bite down
hard on a sensitive pebbled nipple.
Her clit is hard against the cotton of her panties, white, how clich regarding the situation and Quinn can't help but chuckle
when she catches a flash as she looks down, pulling back fully to just watch Rachel ride her stomach like her life depends
on it.

Hazy brown eyes lock on hers, hair messed, forehead painted with sweat, mouth agape, pants of breath, gasps of air
when Quinn rocks forward, adding to the contact. She's going crazy, watching her just work herself into a climax, and she
wants to do it herself; her fingers itch to touch skin and make it squirm, to make Rachel scream her fucking name and no
one else's.

But she's holding on tight to strong hips, and she feels those strong thighs clench around her like a lifeline. The pressure
between her own legs is torturous, and her wolf is all but screaming in her head to do it, to do it now and never look back,
and it kills her, but she just continues to watch, mouth open and coaxing her girlfriend on.
"Are you going to come, Rach...?"

But Rachel can't talk; words are fleeting and distant. She can't grasp them no matter how hard she tries. All she can focus
on is those golden eyes that burrow into her soul, the way her clit skids across the rough material of Quinn's shirt, the way
her pussy just clenches and begs Rachel to come.
"Fuck, you're so beautiful, so hot...so wet..."
The blonde's voice is threatening to throw her off an edge that's she barely hanging onto. She shouldn't be doing this at
school, in a classroom, in public; it should be in the privacy of her bedroom, in the haze of moonlight and romance, but
she's needed it for too long and her mind is going to fucking explode if she just doesn't come.

And she's gasping, hips jerky against Quinn's stomach, and she feels herself clench, and her clit twitch, and she's on the
precipice of something so undeniably perfect. So she shoots forward and wraps her arms tightly around Quinn's neck,
grinding down hard and fast and fuck it's almost there...

The bell shrills like a wake up call, and Rachel feels Quinn's stomach twitch at the intrusion, and it's all she needs because
that white hot rush just engulfs her own body. Her mouth opens wide and silently she screams, face to the ceiling, thanking
every God there is because Quinn Fabray finally made her come.
She collapses against her girlfriend, sweaty, sated, gasping for air. She feels the tension in Quinn's body as her fingertips
ghost her neck, and she knows that she didn't come, and her wolf is just a second away from snapping, so she unwraps
her legs and shakily steps back down onto the floor.

Quinn's whole body is shaking, and she's trying to contain herself. It's hard, oh God it's so hard and she doesn't think she
can do it. And Rachel still smells so fucking perfect, so hot and musky and the smell of sex fills the air. She's about to
pounce, not caring that her girlfriend has already adjusted herself as students walk past an open door, but then Rachel is
cupping her face, a thumb brushing along a quivering bottom lip and gentle kisses being dotted to a sweating forehead.
"Are you okay...?"
Quinn just bites down on her bottom lip because she's not. Her wolf is angry, enraged that Quinn wouldn't take what the
wolf wanted, what they both wanted and it's snarling at her, spitting and angry, and she's terrified. She needs to go home,
she needs to calm down, she needs to talk to...

"I will..." She finally whispers, hoarse and husky. And Rachel smiles, kissing Quinn softly with such delicacy that it makes
the blonde melt. "I'll be fine."

"Should we talk about?" Rachel asks, breathing still not even.

"Well, did you enjoy it?"

Rachel's smirk is an answer enough for her.

The reception was a lot better than she first thought. She half expected her to slam the door in her face, to send her away
and not offer her assistance. But she saw those flickering hazel eyes and just knew. Hence why she's sat in Alfred and
Cybil Noble's living room with no gun pointed to her forehead.
"Alfred's in bed." Cybil says as she enters the living room, holding a tea tray that looks all too heavy for her, so Quinn
helps, and with a small smile, the older woman accepts, watching like a hawk as Quinn settles the tray down on the coffee
table. "Although his wolf is strong, it takes him a little longer to heal than when he was younger, so he's sleeping it off."

Quinn sighs, fists clenched in her lap, "I can't apologize enough.."
"I will admit that I was incredibly angry with you, but my husband has been in far dire straights and honestly, it was his
fault."
Her mouth gapes. "E-Excuse me...?"

Cybil chuckles heartily, "Quinn, you're an Alpha. My husband has spent too much time thinking that he's the strongest in
Lima and he forgot that when he was training you. He should have realized that arguing with an Alpha in wolf society is the
biggest no no anyone could commit."
"But he...bowed down to me and I still went for him..."

"He overstepped his bounds, you were only making sure he knew his place." Then she smiles, "We both understand that. I
understand that, Alfred understands that. Why do you think your parents didn't reprimand you? You were in the right."

How is that even right? How is it right to almost kill someone because they forget for a second that they're dealing with an
Alpha? It's not. It's not right and because of her and her Alpha blood a man that only wanted her to control her urges could
have died.

"It's still inexcusable."

"Quinn..." Cybil pours herself and the blonde girl a drink, "You need to realize that as an Alpha, you need to put other
wolves below you in their place. That's how the hierarchy works; it's there for a reason."
"It sucks."
And Cybil chortles around her teacup, "That it does, but it has to be done. Even though your human side sees it as a bad
thing, your wolf side was only doing what it was programmed to do. Prove itself as a leader. You're a leader, Quinn."

She is. She's a leader, she's an Alpha, she's suppose to be that strong wolf that everyone looks up to and inspires to be.
She's suppose to be the wolf that puts others in their place. Her wolf feels pride at the compliment, but it doesn't make her
human side feel any better at putting Alfred in a bed to heal.
"But I don't think that's why you're here talking to me, is it?" To say she's a human, she seems to know everything Quinn's
feeling. It's like after all those years with Alfred, she's managed to hone in some powers of her own, that or she's been
around for so long that she just knows when someone is keeping something back.

"My urges got out of control today." She sips at her tea and puts it back down on the metal tray gently, "Like...really out of
control."

"How so...?"
"Well...uhm..." My God, she can't even say it. She pulls at her shirt and glances down, hinting desperately at Cybil to look
down too. So when the older woman does, realization dawns.
"Oh...right..." Cybil clears her throat and takes another sip of her drink, "And she was the only one to..." She waves her
free hand, because even though she's obviously had sex, because seriously, even though she's had kids, she doesn't
really want to say it out loud.

"Yeah...yeah she was."

"Right." She puts her cup down and sighs, "And what was the problem? Did you want to go further?"

"Well yeah but..." This is beyond embarrassing, "I had a pretty good control, I was content to just...you know...let it happen,
but afterwards when she was finished and I could hear my wolf again, it was snarling at me. At me!"

"Ah." The older woman nods to herself, "Your wolf is beginning to feel as if you're not attending to it's needs. You need to
find a balance; one that sates your wolf and your human side. It's hard, but there's always a balance."

"Did Alfred have to do that?"

The woman chuckles and drifts a hand through snowy white hair, "Like you wouldn't believe. Even when he was wolf, he
would show signs that he wanted me. But that's a line you just don't cross."
Personal reminder: She needed to bleach her brain when she got home.

"But the thing is, Quinn, there's always a balance. Experiment, see what makes the both of you happy, wolf and you. As
well as Rachel, because after all, she's along for the ride."

Quinn chuckles, "Yeah...she definitely is. But it's getting harder for her too, apparently my aphrodisiac is driving her crazy.
She's finding it harder to control herself."

"Those darn aphrodisiacs." Cybil shakes her head mockingly, "They were glorious but torturous all in one."
"How...can she deal with them?"

The older woman smiles, "Send her to me. I'll tutor her."
"Wait...what?"

"If you expect her to be with you Quinn, she'll need to know how to deal with her urges too. Remember that."
"Yeah...I guess so..."

Then Cybil's just watching her, eyes narrowed in contemplation, so she fills the awkward silence by drinking the rest of her
tea, keeping her eyes glued to the bottom of the expensive looking china. When she's drained it though, Cybil is still
watching her, and her wolf is agitated so she just asks bluntly, "What?" And the older woman just smiles.

Although she doesn't want to go, she tries to make herself look presentable in a dark blue polka-dot dress, hair in gentle
curls that brush over her shoulders, light make up that isn't too much but not too little. The necklace around her neck with a
silver Q glints in the light of her bedroom, and she smiles, fingering the metal.

She hadn't seen Quinn since their...well...her situation in the classroom. She hadn't meant for it to get out of hand so
quickly and so rapidly, but the aphrodisiac that Quinn kept on giving off was just undeniably intoxicating. She needed more
of it, and fast, and she got it whenever she ground down upon Quinn's stomach.
Her stomach still flips at the memory, and she can't help but relieve the short twenty minute memory over and over again. It
wasn't romantic, or anything like she imagined, but it was primal, and urgent and...my God she just felt like she was
needed and...

"Honey. Your father is here!"

Rachel sighs and drops her hand back down to her side, "Coming."

The car ride is unbearable. She's sat in the back, Leroy in the front seat and Michael beside him. It couldn't be more
symbolic if they tried. She's sat in the back, alone and forgotten while Leroy moves forward with a new man beside him. It
makes her feel sick, and when she watches them clasp hands over the gear stick, she just silently scoffs and looks out the
window.
She wants to try, my God she does, but she just can't.

Even though her dad has a lot of money, they've gone to Breadstix. Breadstix. She can't help but roll her eyes as she
slides into the booth that an elderly 'I can't be assed to be here' waitress guides them to.
"So..." Leroy says, bouncing slightly in his seat as he picks up his menu, "How's everyone?"

Michael Hunter, a man in his mid forties with blonde hair, grey at the temples and shining green eyes just smiles at Leroy,
"Great!" Then he turns is attention to Rachel and hesitantly he asks, "Rachel...? You okay?" He sounds so sickeningly
nurturing, like he wants to know how she feels, like he's her dad...
"Fine." She notes his strong chiselled jaw clenches when she grinds the word out between her own teeth. But Leroy feigns
indifference and looks at his menu, but still glances occasionally at her from above it. It's driving her crazy; it's like he's
inspecting her, and their hands are still clasped on the top of the table like it's okay that they cheated, that they're together
while Hiram is sat at home probably crying because he knows everything is a lost cause.
They order, and the only people that talk is Michael and Leroy. She watches them, playing with the rim of her water glass
just so her hands have something to do because they're being all cuddly, and she can't help but think that this should be a
family meal, with Hiram instead of Michael. Leroy should be playing with Hiram's hair, not Michael's, should be laughing at
Hiram's jokes, not Michael's.
But her dad isn't here and only a blonde haired cheater is instead.

"Do you want a refill baby...?" Leroy asks, watching her as she all but drains her glass.
"Don't call me that." Then she raises her hand, flags down their waiter and says, "Could I get a refill, please? Thank you so
much." Her voice changes from hard and indifferent to sweet and content just like it is usually with Quinn and she couldn't
care less if Leroy looks hurt.

But Michael clutches his hand tighter on top of the table, and her eyes shoot to them, "Can you stop that...? I know you're
together but you don't really need to shove it in my face. It's rude and inappropriate."

"Rachel..."
"No. It is." She shakes her head, "I know you two are together, I understand that and I know I can't change that. How your
relationship came along is disgusting, but once again, I can't change that." She looks to her father's companion, "Michael,
I understand that you've left your wife and two children for Leroy. That must prove that you really do like him, and for that I'm
happy, but I can't accept it. I don't understand how you can sit there, happy, holding his hand when your wife is devastated
and your kids are without a father and a stable home."

She leans back in her seat and takes the drink that the waitress hands to her, "I'll sit here and play along, because after all,
Leroy just wants us to be a family again, but I refuse to not acknowledge the fact that the other half of my family is sat at
home alone, heartbroken because his husband obviously thought he wasn't good enough. I won't sit here and pretend that
everything is okay. I won't sit here and watch you hold hands and banter when it just hurts me that much more. I know
you're trying to act casually and normally in front of me because you don't want to treat me like a child, but please, it's just
too soon."
And she downs the whole glass of water while Leroy gapes, and only when Michael pulls his hand slowly from his gasp,
does he excuse himself to use the restroom.

How's dinner going?

Disaster.
That good, huh?
You have no idea. I'm sat in front of Michael right now and he just keeps looking everywhere but me.
He's obviously uncomfortable, baby.
He deserves to feel uncomfortable.
Don't you think he's had enough with what I did to him...?
I know but...I just hate the fact that he's the one that took Leroy from my dad...
I understand.
Yeah...anyway, where did you disappear to after lunch? I didn't see you at Glee.
Oh, yeah I went to go see Alfred's wife. I needed to talk about what...we did...you know.
Quinn, are you blushing?
I hate you. No, I just, she asked me how it was for my wolf and how you dealt with it.
I dealt with it rather spectacularly if I remember correctly ;)
Easy tiger. She just offered me advice and she thinks that you should go to her for help.
What for...? Why do I need help?
For the aphrodisiac effects. She's not a werewolf, so she's had to deal with it before. She can help you so we don't jump
each other when it all gets too steamy.
But your wolf was fine, wasn't it?
I kind of...well, my wolf started snarling at me.
What does that even mean?
Keep texting me, my dad just came back, so I'll reply slow.
Okay. Well, I was worried my wolf was starting to hate me for not letting it have what it wanted, so I went to Cybil and she
said that I need to find a balance, to sate my wolf and my human side.
Then she told me about tutoring for you, because obviously with what happened at lunch, it's getting out of control for
you too. I mean...you were pretty much grinding against my stomach.
Do you mind? I'm sat in front of Leroy.
Haha. Sorry, baby.
It's fine. I'll think about the tutoring okay? I just have a lot going on right now with him and my dad.
It's okay, take your time. Anyway, I'll leave you to dinner. Try not to kill anyone with a butter knife.
I make no promises. I miss you xxx
I...yeah, I miss you too xxx

"What...?"

The older woman smiles and pats the space beside her, which Quinn takes with a slight hesitation in her steps. Cybil
takes her hands, clasps them gently and says, "What do you believe an urge to mean?"
"Uhm..." Quinn's brow scrunches as she thinks, "The overwhelming need to be around that person, to talk to them, to
touch them, to kiss them, to just be with them."
"Do you know why werewolves call it an urge?"

"I...wouldn't know."

"Well, werewolves believe that humans and werewolves feel different things. Obviously, a werewolf can't communicate
because they can't talk unless they can hear one another's thoughts. So they show their emotions, their compassion,
their kindness, their needs, through their urges. Do you know what I'm saying...?"
"Not...really..."

Cybil smiles and shakes her head, "A human can say things to express how they feel. They have a whole vocabulary
at their disposal. A werewolf uses their pheromones, something they only give off for someone special. Humans say
their words."
Realization dawns upon Quinn and she pulls her hands back slowly. It was there, right before her eyes all along and
she never really grasped the reality of the situation. Her urges were there for a reason. There was a reason she never
urged or looked at anyone else. There was a reason that Rachel Barbra Berry was the only one she ever wanted to be
with.
"I..."

"Have you told her...?"

*Chapter 6*: Brightness & Darkness
It's a disaster. The rest of dinner that is. Leroy comes back from the restroom with swollen and red eyes, and Michael
looks everywhere that isn't her. She doesn't mind though, because he always has this look of 'I'm sorry for everything' in his
eyes and it just drives her crazy. No matter what he says, or what he tries to convey, it'll just be the same. He'd have still
dropped his pants at Leroy's say so, and they still would have cheated for God knows how long. It'd have still happened.
So when Michael keeps laughing at whatever Leroy says and sees that love in their eyes, she just stabs her food with her
fork. This wasn't how it was suppose to be. Michael should be at home with his wife and two kids, screwing up someone
else's marriage. Leroy should still be with her dad. They should still be with a family.

But they're not. So when they ask for the check and Michael kisses Leroy and says 'I'll pay' she sees red. They're trying to
make a new family, a family with her in it, but that she doesn't belong in.

She'll never belong, no matter how hard they try.

Michael actually gets out of the car and walks her to the door, knowing full well that Hiram is stood right on the other side.
He doesn't seem fazed, because after all, he was the one that worked on him in surgery.

Under the porch light the scars on his neck and arms seem more macabre than in bright harsh light. The scars on his neck
especially, they're jagged, haphazard, and for a second just wants to ask, "Did it hurt?"

"Yes it did."
Her eyes snap open, and they lock on his, "It hurt a lot, but in a way, I deserved it."

She doesn't say anything, because she knows she'll say yes, he deserved to feel that pain for what he did. He ripped
apart two families and shows no remorse for it. But she keeps her mouth shut and continues to examine his scars,
knowing that each and everyone of them were given to him by her girlfriend, her protector, her wolf in a fit of rage.
It's terrifying really, to see what Quinn can really do, Alpha or not. Her brute strength is remarkable, but spine chilling at the
same time. Her fingers itch to touch the long jagged scar on his forearm, and he sees her looking at it, so he extends is
arm, just for the invitation.

She doesn't take it.

But he leaves his arm out for her to examine. She's shocked that he doesn't hide the marks and scars, it's almost like he
knows he's going to be stuck with them, so why hide them? Part of her is astonished, the other part is sick. She doesn't
understand how he can act so proud of them; he didn't receive them from saving a life in a war, he didn't receive them
from protecting his kids. He got them from ending two marriages. He got them for wanting to be...happy.
"I know you probably hate me for hurting you and you dad, and for that, I'm so sorry. I know I can never really receive your
forgiveness, but I'll work everyday, just in case." He shrugs and smiles gently, "Just in case you change your mind."

Hiram holds her as she cries. She's collapsed by the still open front door, arms wrapped around her father, him rocking
her back on forth, the palms of his hands rubbing soothing patterns on her back. He's dying to ask her what's wrong, what
Leroy and Michael had said, how dinner went, but he can't.
He can't open his mouth because he'll know he'll just fall apart like his daughter. He's barely holding it together as it is, and
he has to be the strong one now. He can't collapse against his husband whenever things get too hard. He can't sob and
hear a robust but soothing voice in his ear.

He has to deal with his broken child and he doesn't know how.

She wakes up on the couch, Hiram curled up on the arm chair to her left. He looks so unbelievably uncomfortable, but it
makes her smile. He didn't want to leave her alone, he didn't want to look like he'd just disappeared like Leroy.
Hiram stirs when she gets up off the couch, and his eyes are barely open when she presses a kiss to his forehead. "Go to
bed." She whispers and she helps him, and even tucks him into bed.
They have to help one another. That's all they can do.

School is becoming a chore, which is infuriating, because it never was before. The thought of sitting down in class and
trying to learn just makes her want to turn around and go back home. She wants to be at home, trying to fix the things that
are going wrong in her life.
The only good thing about school is, "Hey baby..." And there it is, with arms wrapping around her waist from behind a soft
kiss being placed on her ear. She melts into the touch and the crack of a smile appears on her lips. "You okay?"
She sighs through a shudder, "It could have been better." It's non-committal, and Quinn understands immediately because
she doesn't ask again. Instead she turns the singer and smiles down at her, "Hey."
Quinn leans down and bumps her nose against her girlfriend's, "Hey right back. Don't wanna talk about it?"

"No..." She shakes her head but it makes her giggle when Quinn scrunches up her nose because their noses are still that
close together, "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Quinn whispers, barely heard over the sound of the students that stand around them. "Your eyes are all
red."

Rachel sighs and drops her head to Quinn's chest, rubbing her forehead against the soft material of the blonde's zip up
grey hoodie. It's a hoodie she's always wanted to steal from her girlfriend, and she's still trying to think of a way to do it.
She just wants to wrap herself in it and fall asleep to the smell of Quinn when she can't be there.
"As you can probably guess, I've been crying."
Quinn silent for moment, and Rachel thinks she's said something wrong, but then Quinn dots a kiss to the top of her head
and whispers against thick brown locks, "I don't like how much you've been crying recently. These past few months all
you've done is cry."
It pisses her off a little, even though she knows that Quinn is right on the money, "I can't really help it. We all can't have a
perfect family life like yours, Quinn."
She feels Quinn's arms tense around her waist, and she shuts her eyes for the argument that's about to happen, but
nothing comes. They're just stood there, in silence, those strong arms still tense around her waist. "I know."
Her eyes open slowly, because she really wasn't expecting that, "I didn't mean to say that." She apologizes anyway,
because she knows that it's not all sunshine and rainbows at Quinn's house. She's stuck in a family hierarchy where she's
still at the bottom but is also at the top at the same time. The confliction alone would drive anyone crazy.

"I know. You're under a lot of pressure, it's understandable." Then she pauses, "How did dinner go? Or shouldn't I ask?"
Rachel's eyes flicker from Quinn's left to right, taking in those shining hazel eyes that somehow swirl with gold somehow,
"Why are your eyes like your wolf?"
"What?" Quinn frowns, glancing at the mirror stuck on her girlfriend's locker door, "Oh. It just does that sometimes when
I'm pent up."
"Pent up?" She asks with a frown. "Are you mad?"

Quinn chuckles and shakes her head, "The opposite actually. When I feel extreme emotion, my eyes do this."
"So you're happy that I'm upset?"

"Baby, no." She tightens her arms and pulls the singer closer, "I'm not happy that you're upset. I'm pissed that you're upset
and I wanna find a way to make you happy but...you know how my wolf can be."

"It wants to lash out?" Rachel whispers, pressing her forehead to Quinn's lips. She feels Quinn frown against her forehead,
"Please don't."

"I'm not going to lash out. Remember, I'm still trying to get over what happened in the classroom."
What...? She looks up and stares, then her mouth opens, "Oh."

"Uh-huh." Quinn nods and pulls her back again, "So don't look at me or I might do something that'll scar the student body
for the rest of their lives."

Scar...body...
She pulls back and turns around to face her locker, picking up books that she doesn't really need and flicking through
them. "Baby...?" It sounds so distant behind her, and she bites down hard on her bottom lip, thumb continuing to flick
through a book on Algebra. She reads Math problems, somehow hoping to get the flashes of Michael Hunter's scars from
her mind. That long jagged scar on his arm, the long rip across his throat.
Quinn presses her hand to her shoulder and she jumps, book falling to the floor. She mutters under her breath, and feels
Quinn beside her as she leans down also. "What's wrong?" She whispers, standing up when Rachel finally has a grip on
that damn book. "Did I say something?"
"No..." Rachel shakes her head, "It's nothing." Then bell shrills through the hallway and she glances at Quinn who hasn't
moved from her spot, "We'll be late for class."

They continue to stare before eventually, Rachel peels away, trying not to run down the hall to her class.

Will you tell me what I said to make you act like that?
Her phone feels like a lead weight on her lap, and she's been avoiding the same text for almost three hours. She avoided
going to lunch, instead taking the time to sit in her car and just mope in the back seat, because if she sees those golden
hazel eyes, she'll just be reminded of the scar that she almost touched the night before.

Her mind just keeps flashing back to Michael's attack and what could have happened. She imagines herself stood at the
bottom of his drive, watching him as he gets out of the car with a content smile on his face. She imagines him turning to
lock the door, then out of nowhere a golden blur shoots across her vision and pins him to the car.
She wants to shut her eyes, but she can't. It's like her body wants her to watch. So she does. She watches as Michael falls
to the floor, a wolf double his size on top of him, ripping at his arms to protect his already bleeding throat. She watches
blood pool on the ground. She listens to him scream for help.

She feels so sick, and when she reads the text back over, she deletes it and shoves her phone into her bag.

Glee is uncomfortable. Quinn was already in the choir room by the time she arrived, and the look of elation in her the girl's
eyes made her almost cry. She'd patted the seat beside her in a silent invitation, but Rachel ignored it to sit down beside
Finn who was in the middle of flicking drumsticks between his fingers.
"You okay?" He asks minutes later, because he honestly didn't know what to say.

"I'm fine..." She sounds so weak, and his heart breaks silently as he watches her wring her hands in her lap. His eyes flick
to Quinn, who's watching with pure hatred in her eyes and it clicks.

"Did you and Quinn fight?"

"No, why?" Rachel asks, finally looking up at Finn.

"She looks like she wants to commit murder."

She glances at Quinn in the corner of her eyes, and she sees those golden eyes swirling with a hidden danger and she
just shudders.

Her avoidance time with Quinn is slipping into the danger zone. She had only just managed to leave the choir room with a
second to spare of Quinn catching up to, although she wants to talk to Mr. Schue about the song choices for Sectionals.

The whole club had decided that seen as though it was Senior Year, they wouldn't fight over solo's anymore. The person
with the best voice, the one person that was a show stopper would receive it. And naturally, that was Rachel. It was
enough to make her smile, but she didn't want to take all the glory. So she decided to duet with Kurt, who just put a hand to
his chest and looked like he would cry. They had become such good friends over the passing year, and it would be a
crime not to share that glory with him.
So it was decided; a duet with Kurt and a big group number that would have the crowd on it's feet. And although she
desperately wanted to speak to the Glee Club co-ordinator, she simply dashed out because she could feel Quinn behind
her, silently begging to talk.

She had just pulled out of her parking spot when she saw Quinn behind the car, barely an inch away from the back
bumper. They stared at one another through the rear-view mirror and she could see those golden hazel eyes again, and
she just sped off.

Why are you running away from me? What have I done wrong?
Her iPhone remains silent by her plate, which was still filled with a banquet that her mother had made only minutes before.
It's a shock to say the least, when Judy looks up from her own plate to her daughter's to see it was full.
"Are you okay, honey?" But Quinn doesn't reply, and she follows her daughter's eyes to see them locked on her phone,
"Have you and Rachel had a falling out? Your thoughts are all over the place."
Quinn frowns, "Don't read my thoughts, mom. I don't do it to you, so don't do it to me."
Russell's eyes snap up and lock on his daughter, "Apologize."
The younger Fabray growls and throws her knife and fork down onto her plate, "No. Why should I? You're always listening
to my thoughts! I never read yours so why should you read mine?"
"Go to your room." Russell commands through a growl, and the tension in the air is thick as they stare at one another, and
Judy's honestly terrified because she heard the bones in Quinn's left hand crack. "Now."
She gets up and pockets her phone, "Fine." Her parting offer to her parents is her plate thrown against the wall, and she
barely hears Russell shouting at her when she closes her bedroom door.

"You have been arguing with your parents," Alfred mumbles from his bed, pulling off his reading glasses. He's not
bedridden and he's not injured anymore, but the ache from the fight still plagues his aged body.

"Yeah..." Quinn mumbles, playing with the lamp on Alfred's bedside table. It's a touch operated one, and she finds solitude
in just tapping it on and off, "Things are just getting stressful."

"Apparently you lashed out because your mother tried to listen in on your thoughts." He watches her continue to tap the
lamp, "Why did you lash out because of that? They are your parents after all."

"I was just having a stressful day. I didn't need my mom trying to listen in on what I was thinking. I don't even know what I'm
thinking right now."

Alfred frowns and rests his hand over Quinn's, the lamp remains on even though it's still early in the morning and the sun
shines brighter than it ever has in his bedroom.

"Is that why you're here and not at school?"

Quinn just shrugs, eyes still pinned to the lamp. It's nothing special, just a golden base and a floral glass shade. She just
doesn't know what to think. She doesn't want to go to school because another day of Rachel avoiding her like she's the
plague just hurts her too much. She doesn't want to watch Rachel take that spot beside Finn instead of next to her. She
doesn't want to see that look in Rachel's eye whenever they lock on one another. And she really doesn't want to sit around
at school wishing she would text her back.

She'd called all last night while up in her room, leaving voice message after voice message, text after text, missed call
after missed call. She even tried the Berry's home phone, but it was always engaged. Either Rachel took it off the hook or
Hiram Berry talks like there's no tomorrow.
"I just don't know what I've done. I was talking to Rachel yesterday morning and we were fine...then all of a sudden she was
cold with me and she kept avoiding me all day. She didn't even sit next to me in Glee Club."
Alfred nodded, "And you said nothing to warrant the attitude change?"

"Well I didn't say anything I usually wouldn't say. Especially with the fact we've been...you know..." She nods her head with
eyes wide, trying to get her point across, but he seems more lost than ever, "Exploring a bit more." It finally dawns on him,
thank fuck. "So what I usually say...you know...it doesn't terrify her or anything."
"What did you say exactly?"

"Hell if I know." Quinn sighs, slumping back in her seat, "I just remember saying I'd..." Then she pauses, "Okay, this is
really embarrassing. I can't say it out loud."

He smirks lightly, then let me hear it.

Quinn sighs to herself and opens her mind to Alfred. It's almost as if she can feel him shifting around in there, trying to find
that memory, trying to find that conversation. His brows furrow when he's found it and he listens.

"So don't look at me or I might do something that'll scar the student body for the rest of their lives."

They both hear it and almost like clockwork, at the same time it dawns on them.
"Fuck. She went to dinner with Michael the night before."

"Is she still scared of your wolf?"

"I didn't think she was..." She feels like such an asshole. How could she openly say body and scar in the same sentence
without it having some sort of repercussion. Rachel naturally became terrified, and mixed with the golden flicker in her
eyes that she gets when she feels extreme emotion, it was a given that Rachel thought she would go after her.

"Quinn, you have to be strong right now. Go over there after school and talk to her."
"What if she doesn't even let me in?"
Alfred smiles, "Then give her this address."

She's prowling the backyard when she hears the tell-tale signs of a Focus engine. It purrs to a stop on the other side of the
house and she calmly waits, ears pricked up and cataloguing each step that her girlfriend takes. It was a spur of the
moment decision to appear as a wolf, because she just needs to see that look in Rachel's eyes when she sees her.

She needs to see if she's terrified, or if she's okay with her being there. She needs to know that Rachel trusts her,
regardless of the form she's in. She needs to prove to Rachel that she can turn into Quinn whenever she wants, and not
even her Alpha wolf can stop her.
The bedroom window slides open, and the blinds clatter noisily against the window frame. So she huffs and gets up from
her lying position; her wolf is slightly scared for some reason, and it unnerves her. It's like it knows that if Rachel isn't fine
with it, Rachel won't be there anymore, and the one it pines for and urges for won't be there to touch or smell or taste
anymore.
It howls desperately, almost like a whine, and she can't remember doing it. But even to her, it sounds heartbreaking. She
does it for what seems like hours, but can only be seconds before blinds are pulled up and a head is popping out.
Brown eyes land on the golden wolf in the backyard and they remain locked. The wolf looks so distraught, ears flattened to
it's skull, eyes wide, almost like puppy dog eyes, mouth open slightly to let out a gentle whine.
"Quinn..." Rachel whispers rubbing a hand down her face, "Please go...you could be seen by anyone."

Rachel moves to close the blinds again, but then she sees it. The wolf's body contorts; that long snout pushing back into
her face, that fur disappears almost instantly, and she hears bones crack and snap. Rough skin is replaced by soft pale
skin and luscious blonde hair returns to a head that still continues to morph into shape. Then those hazel eyes are there,
and those lips that she loves to kiss, and that cute little nose that scrunches up whenever she kisses it.

She's so utterly enthralled it sends a shudder down her spine, but she can't help but watch as the outline of a wolf slowly
begins to disappear only to show a naked blonde sat with her knees up to her chest.

She can't speak, but Quinn can, "I just wanted to show you that."
"Why?" Her voice sounds so weak.

"Because me and my wolf are the same person. We're not two different entities. When I'm my wolf I still have the thoughts
and memories of my human side. That'll never change."

"Okay..."
It's not enough. It's so not enough but she can't push her girlfriend any further. She's already seen enough to think about, so
she just climbs to her feet, hardly caring that she's still as naked as she was the day she was born and looks up.
"237 Essex Drive. That's where Alfred and Cybil Noble live if you ever need help."

"With what...?"
Quinn smiles sadly, moisture rushing up to her eyes, "With the fact I still terrify you."

Their relationship is on a temporary hiatus. Well, that's how Quinn sees it. They talk to one another in school, but only if
they have to, and if they do speak, it's just to talk about Glee or what homework was given in their shared class. They
didn't kiss anymore, or give any longing stares across the class. They didn't tribute a song to one another in Glee
anymore, and they certainly didn't sit next to one another.
Quinn couldn't tell if Rachel had gone to Alfred's house or not, and she so desperately wanted to ask, but that would be
breeching their unspoken rule. They needed time apart. They needed time to think.
Rachel sits by Finn again in Glee Club though, and they talk and laugh like nothing is wrong. Santana smirks at Quinn from
where she's sat two seats down, and she just ignores it. She knows that Santana wants her to say 'you were right all along'
or 'please be my friend again' instead she just steels her jaw and stares at the front of the classroom.
When she hears Rachel giggle though, she just shatters.

"Dad?" They haven't spoken since the bust up at dinner, and he doesn't even look at her when she opens his office door.
He continues to scribble away on his papers. "Can we hunt?"
He looks up at her then, sees her eyes, red and swollen and sighs. "I'll be right out."
She nods numbly and shuts the door behind her quietly.

"Mom...?" Judy looks up from her book and looks at her daughter, "I'm sorry."

"Just because you're an Alpha, Quinn, doesn't mean that you rule this household. And just because you're having troubles
doesn't mean you should take it out on the people who care for you."

"I know..."
"As long as you know that."

Quinn rips a deer to shreds before it even has the chance to think about running away. She rips it to shreds and it feels so
liberating. She knows her father is watching her, watching her take that deer by its neck and flick it from side to side
almost as if it was a pillow, and when she hears the snap of its neck and its blood curdling cries stop, she drops it to the
ground.

Feel better...?
Her wolf simply huffs and leans down to chow down. It's ravenous. It hasn't hunted for a meal in so long, so when she
tastes that bloody flesh on the tip of her tongue for the first time in what feels like years, she feels elation.

If you ever raise your voice like that your mother again, I'll have you.
She pauses mid chew, stands to full size and looks over to her father, who's sat on his rump, staring at her with clouded
eyes.

I know...

"Is Quinn still coming to dinner tomorrow?"

Rachel's fingers stop mid-type; she was just in the middle of uploading her new MySpace video, something she hadn't
done in over half a year when her father walked in and asked that one simple question.

"I don't know."

Hiram frowns, "She's cancelled again?"

Rachel shrugs.
"What? Does she think I'm going to bite or something?"

She chuckles bitterly, because it's not him that might bite.

Dinner doesn't go ahead and the night it's suppose to happen, Quinn sits in the park, in wolf form, right by the swings. Her
nose snuffs the dirt gently; Rachel hasn't been here, she hasn't been here for a while now, and she knew that since she'd
reached smelling distance of the place.

She knew Rachel hadn't been to the park, she knew Rachel wasn't at the park, but she still goes, and she still sits, and she
still smells the dirt, trying to get at least a tiny bit of Rachel's scent into her snout.
She gives up after ten minutes, because no matter how hard she tries, that scent she needs just isn't there.

Her wolf stays there all night, howling into the wind in pure mourning.


They don't speak until Sectionals. They're backstage. Quinn is getting read for the group number after Rachel and Kurt's
duet of For Good when they finally do speak. Rachel is about to go on stage, and she's adjusting her green dress, fitting
for her lead in the song, when Quinn walks up to her and just says;
"Break a leg."

Rachel seems shocked at first; at the fact that Quinn had actually spoken to her after a whole month of silence, but then
she just nods, "Thank you."
She luxuriates in the scent while she still has the chance to smell it, but then it's gone because Rachel's holding Kurt's
hand, and she's being pulled on stage by the excited young man.
She just feels like crying.

She forgets the choreography mid-song because Rachel brushes by her to get to the front of the stage. Mike notices her
stopping mid-step and moves over to her in a wave of elegant dancing to try and cover the fact he's walking away for his
mark. She sees him, sees his sad smile and just gulps, because she can't do it anymore. She can't pretend to be happy
and sing and dance when everything is just shattering around her.
So she runs off stage.

They win, which is a shock. Obviously the judges didn't mind that she'd run off stage, or didn't notice because having
twelve kids on stage is enough to look at than a distraught blonde.
Rachel doesn't come to her, although she knows that Rachel found out about her running off stage from Mike. Instead, they
share a long look in the waiting area, and their eyes don't pull away until they're called back onto the stage to find out that
yes, they'd won.

It's a hollow victory for her, but when Rachel leaps up and down, claps her hands together and looks at Quinn to share that
happiness, her smile slips. Because Quinn is just stood there, staring at the stage floor.

She takes the bull by its horns and does what she was offered a month ago. She gets in her car and she drives to 237
Essex Drive because she can't deal with the silence any longer. She can't deal with seeing Quinn collapse in on herself.
She can't deal with the fact that she's the one making Quinn feel this way; all because she's uncertain about Quinn and the
power she possesses.
An old woman opens the door to her and smiles gently, "Can I help you?"

Rachel hesitates at first, because she doesn't really know what to say, but eventually settles on her name. It's safe, it's not
too out there.

"Ah. Quinn Fabray's mate. Come in."

Mate? Is that what she was? She had never heard Quinn say such a thing, but for some reason it makes their relationship
seem that much more real. But she just feels horrible, because after all the research she had done on werewolves (most
of it that Quinn had said was just myths or legends) she should have known about the potential of being Quinn's mate. She
should have known that she couldn't be anything less in Quinn's eyes.
She sighs as she sits down, "Can I get you anything?"

She shakes her head, because if she drinks or eats anything she might throw up. She's terrified as it is. She didn't know
what to expect when she got here, although she knows that Alfred and Cybil Noble are the sweetest people you could ever
meet from what she heard from Quinn.
"So is there a reason you're here?"

"I was told to come here by Quinn for help..."

"And what help would that be?" She can tell that Cybil knows because of the glint in her eye, and the way she adjusts
herself on the couch as if they're going to have a deep meaningful conversation.
"I need help with..." She sighs, "I'm still scared of Quinn's wolf because I've seen the scars she left on Michael's body."

"Michael Hunter." Cybil nods to herself, "And why does it scare you?"
"Because everyone argues. Couples argue all the time. What if I say something wrong and Quinn just snaps, turns into her
wolf and just attacks me. What if she can't hold herself back?"
"Who gave you the idea that a wolf attacks its mate?"

Rachel frowns, "Excuse me?"

Cybil sighs, "Sweetie, a wolf can never attack its mate, no matter how hard they try. When two people are mates, they
can't physically hurt each other. Take my marriage for example. I was scared of Alfred's wolf at one point or another, but
when he told me that it's physically impossible for a wolf to attack or physically hurt it's mate, I began to calm."
She's still confused. Does that means its impossible for Quinn to actually attack her just because she's her mate?

"It's almost as if it's engrained in werewolf DNA. Say you punch Quinn," Rachel gasps and Cybil chuckles gently, "Just an
example, sweetie. Say you punch Quinn, what do you think she would do?"

Rachel shrugs her small shoulders softly, "I don't know...hit me back?"
"Impossible. Even as a human she couldn't raise a hand to you. She might lash out and attack an inanimate object like a
wall or something, but she would never be able to hit you. It'd hurt her more than it would hurt you. And as an Alpha, she
has a reputation she has to uphold. If she happened to hit you, which would never happen, she would be instantly
disgraced and ripped of her title. That's how it works in werewolf society."
"So she could...never hurt me?"

Cybil nods, "Yes. She can only hurt other people that threaten either your livelihood or your emotions. Hence why she
lashed out at Michael Hunter. She thought she was protecting you, but remember Rachel, she hadn't been trained back
then. She was still in the infancy of being an Alpha."
"So she can control herself better now?"
"Much better." Then Cybil chuckles, "I also heard from Quinn you might need help with certain...aphrodisiacs that are
beginning to make your life hell."

"Oh my God..." Rachel whispers and leans forward, "She spoke to you about that?"

Cybil chuckles and Rachel is just mortified.

I've started getting help...

...What do you mean?
I've started getting help from Cybil. Just like you asked.
Oh. Uhm. When did that start?
Today. I just got back.
And how did it go...?
It went fine. A little mortifying at times, but fine.
Mortifying?
Well at first it was about your wolf, but then she started telling me she was going to tutor me in how to deal with the
aphrodisiacs effects on my body.
Oh, okay.
Aren't you happy?
Of course I am, I just...don't know what to say to you. We've hardly said two words to each other for a month and we're
suppose to be dating.
I did it for a reason, Quinn.
I know.
Yeah.
Meet me at the park.
Quinn.
It's a Saturday, it's not like we have school tomorrow. Please come to the park, I want to see you.
Will you be there or your wolf?
Me.
Okay. I'll be there at eight.

Quinn is sat on top of the slide by the time she gets there, which is slightly amusing because her legs reach about three
quarters of the way down and it's a little bit too narrow for her hips even though she's skinny as all hell.
The blonde perks up and smiles as she walks toward her, "You came."

"I said I would," Rachel replies, but not unkindly, "Why are you up there?"
"I wanted to slide down...but I realized I was too big."

Rachel smiles softly, "It's cuter when your wolf tries to scramble up it."
Quinn's cheeks color with embarrassment, because it is. She still remembers that night vividly, trying with all her might to
try and get closer to Rachel, just to feel her warmth and make her feel safe.
"I looked like an oversized rat."

Rachel chuckles and stands at the foot of the slide, one foot up on it, "You almost knocked me off when I finally got you up
there."

Quinn's eyes soften, "I'd never let you fall..."

"I know you wouldn't." She looks up to her girlfriend and just takes the blonde in. She truly is beautiful, and those hazel
eyes, although they still flicker with gold no longer terrify her. They're beautiful, almost breathtaking. They just show a whole
new level that only Rachel is privy to; shows a secret that only she knows. "I guess...we should reschedule that dinner?"

And Quinn smiles, because she knows they're back on the right track, and she makes a mental note to send some fruit
basket or something to Cybil Noble because whatever she said saved her relationship. She slides down, coming to a
stop just before Rachel's foot, and plants her feet on either side of the slide.
"Wednesday? I need to give my father adequate time to prepare for a guest."

"He doesn't have to do anything fancy for me, Rach." She raises her hands and lets them hover just over Rachel's hips,
because she doesn't want to push just yet, she doesn't know if her girlfriend's that okay yet. But Rachel smiles, takes her
hands and rests them on her hips.
There's that feeling again. Like she's coming home, and her heart skips a beat in her chest because she's finally touching
and smelling the one thing she needed in her life this past month through all the training she's been doing with a newly
mobile Alfred.

"You don't understand my family do you?" Rachel smirks softly.

"The Berry family always has to do something extravagant even though it's only dinner?"

Rachel chuckles, "Baby, I don't know if you noticed, but my father is gay."

"Okay Quinn, I know you have to go out and train with Alfred, but I need you to stay behind for a little while." Cybil plants a
kiss to her husband's cheek and smiles, "Go ahead, she'll catch you up."

Alfred's eyes scan his wife's face before smirking, "Try not to kill them both."
Rachel gulps and Quinn tightens the arm around her waist in comfort, "It'll be okay." She whispers gently, pressing a
gentle kiss to her girlfriend's ear.
Alfred leaves, and that's when Quinn suddenly gets a little nervous. She knows that Cybil is tutoring Rachel in how to deal
with the aphrodisiacs, but she really doesn't want to make the girl rip off her shirt in front of the ageing woman. She'd die
of embarrassment. Well, maybe she'd take the time to check out her girlfriend's chest, but then she'd die.

They sit on the couch in the living room and Cybil seems to mill around them for a little while. It unnerves Rachel, because
she really doesn't know what to expect, so she turns to Quinn to comfort. The blonde is oddly quiet, just leaning back on
the couch and flicking through a Reader's Digest that looks about two months out of date.
She watches as nimble fingers flick through the magazine and somehow it manages to calm her. Quinn isn't giving off any
aphrodisiacs at the moment, and it's almost like a blessing because the thought of letting herself go sexually in front of an
eighty year old woman is just mortifying.

But there's something about Quinn that she can't quite put her finger on. They didn't talk for a whole month, which honestly
killed her, because all she wanted to do some nights was curl up to her girlfriend and just cry because Leroy wouldn't stop
calling, or kept inviting her out to another dinner to try and 'work things through'. But through that month what shocked her
was that Quinn actually gave her the space she so desperately sought. But there was something in those longing looks
that Quinn gave her, something more than hurt or regret, but something deeper, more intimate.
"Quinn..." She whispers, trying to keep her voice low.

The blonde's eyebrow flicks up, but her eyes continue to read an article, so Rachel knows she has her attention, "Is there
something different between us?"

Quinn frowns at that and flips the page, "How do you mean?"
But then Rachel shakes her head at herself, they're fine, they've always been fine, it's just her insecurities, but those looks
just hit something deep in the pit of her stomach. It made her feel light, almost as if she was weightless. All that pressure
that she constantly felt on her shoulders just seemed to disappear, and it was such a beautiful feeling to behold.

"N-Nothing, it doesn't matter."

Quinn looks up at her then, and her eyes are their usual hazel color, the color that Rachel grew up with. "Are you sure? You
can tell me anything."
Her heart melts a little, because Quinn is so caring and charming, simply from asking a simple question. She can hardly
believe her luck, landing with a girl that would go to the end of the earth for her.
"It's fine." Then she smiles, genuinely, because she doesn't feel like she has to fake around Quinn, "Really."

Quinn just smiles and dots a kiss to her lips.

"This will sound awkward." Just saying it made the room feel awkward, and Quinn and Rachel are stood side by side, arm
to arm as they stand before Cybil. It was fine until Cybil had said that, but she looks so calm that it doesn't unnerve them in
any way. "But Quinn, you need to give off your pheromone for Rachel to smell."
"Excuse me...?" Giving off a pheromone is seriously personal to a wolf. It's the one thing that truly belongs to them, it's
what makes them, it's almost like smelling a wolf's DNA. It's personal, it's not to be shared, only in the special cases...
"Oh. Should I?"

Rachel's brow furrows as she glances between the two women. They're silent as they stare at one another and it's slightly
unnerving because although Cybil isn't a werewolf it's like their talking to one another in their minds, just like Quinn can do
with Alfred. She feels out of the loop and like she's intruding, so she just drops her head and plays with her fingers until the
moment is over.

"Okay." It's Quinn that speaks first and she lets out a shuddering sigh, that makes her sound like she's terrified, so Rachel
looks up and smiles lightly.

"If it's something...personal...then you don't have to."

Quinn exchanges a quick glance with Cybil who just nods before looking back to her girlfriend, "This is a special case."

She honestly felt nothing for a few minutes, but Cybil had ordered her to sit down like she wouldn't be able to stand up or
something, but nothing is happening. She's just sat there, Quinn looks kind of red in the face and Cybil has fucking nose
plugs stuffed up her nostrils.

"Were those really necessary?" Rachel asks, pointing to said nose plugs, "I mean honestly, I smell nothing."
Cybil chuckles and the nose plugs slip slightly from her nose, Quinn bites back a smirk, "It's not the smell, sweetie. It's the
effects."
"But I feel nothing." Rachel whined with a pout, barely stopping herself from stomping her foot into the carpet.

Quinn's oddly silent, and they stare at one another. She's still red in the face and her breathing has got a little harder. "Are
you okay?" Rachel asks, because her girlfriend looks like she's about to combust over the living room carpet.
But the blonde just clenches her lips and her hand shakes as she brings it to her nose. Cybil answers for her, "She's
dealing with your smell. Allow her." Rachel shuts up instantly, because she knows that her smell must be pretty strong, and
Quinn looks like she's trying so hard not to jump her bones. It kind of makes her feel sexy, making a werewolf lose control
of it's inhibitions.
They sit around for another ten minutes and Rachel is getting so fucking impatient it's unreal. She cancelled with her vocal
coach for this? To see her girlfriend literally wetting her panties in the corner of a room and an eighty year old woman with
nose plugs stuffed up her nostrils?
She huffs, but with a large intake of breath, she feels it. It rushes through her veins, through her blood, through her damn
bones. Her body feels like it's on fire and she feels as if she might set alight. She shifts a little on the couch and she knows
her whole body is hyper sensitive because when she shifts, the material of her panties just rubs ever so slightly against her
and it feels like she's come three times. She clasps her hands tightly over her mouth when she feels the moan bubble up
from her throat, and she's mortified, because it feels too fucking good to matter. She feels as if there's a thousand hands
on her, caressing her, touching her, fucking her and oh my god, she arches her back against the couch and just screams.
It's long and hard and it feels like her orgasm just fucks her body all over again. Her body twitches, it aches and it feels so
deliciously perfect that she wants it to happen again, but that smell that drove her crazy is gone, and slowly, weakly, she
opens her eyes and looks toward Cybil and Quinn, only just realizing they were still in the room.
Quinn is against Cybil's back, growling, eyes a dangerous shade of gold. The hazel is all but gone, and those eyes look
like they could eat her alive. A moan escapes her dry throat before she even has a chance to stop it and Quinn growls
louder in response.

"Calm down..." She barely hears through the roaring in her ears; her body still twitching gently through the aftershocks and
she only just manages to realize that it's Cybil talking to Quinn, "Call down. Relax. She's here. She's yours. You have her."

It takes an hour and a half for Quinn to calm down and in that time, Rachel comes another six times.

"I'm so embarrassed." She finally says after Quinn leaves to train. Cybil is pouring her a steaming cup of green tea and
the slow pour of the liquid calms her nerves, "I've...never..."

"Don't be embarrassed, sweetie." Cybil smiles softly, "I was just the same all those years ago when I first became
acquainted to Alfred's pheromone."

"Is it suppose to be that..." Her mouth suddenly feels dry again and her body feels just like it did when it first smelt it; on
fire, brutal, rushing with adrenaline. She takes a long sip of her tea, not caring that it burns the inside of her mouth, it's a
good burn. "Strong?"
"Well..." Cybil takes a sip of her tea, "I won't go into details because you obviously don't want to hear this from a woman
that's old enough to be your great grandmother, but I couldn't walk for two days afterwards."
Rachel stares.

Cybil smirks softly.

"Too much?"

Rachel nods, "Too much."

"You look like you've died a thousand deaths."

She sighs and shakes her head, "I feel like it."

Alfred raises an eyebrow, "So how did it go? You don't look like Cybil had to hit you with her cane."
"She has a cane?" Quinn asks with wide eyes, "But...no, she didn't hit me with it. She had to stand in front of me until I
calmed down. That took almost two hours."
"But is it getting easier?" Alfred asks, beginning to unbutton his pinstripe shirt, "That's the biggest factor here. You know
how pheromones make your mate feel and to say you're not lip locked on my living room floor, you must have been able to
control it."

"Barely. It was hard but...I managed it."

Alfred beams, because he's damn proud of the wolf he's training and he claps both hands on her shoulders, "I'm proud of
you, Quinn."
And she just feels like crying, because she made the man she looks up to and adores, proud of her.


"Any other issues you'd like to work out before you leave?"
"I think my body has sustained enough physical abuse today, thank you."

Cybil chuckles, "I don't mean in that sense, sweetie. I mean with anything else."
"Like what?"
"I heard from Quinn and the Fabray's that you're having issues at home."
"It's none of your business."

"Okay..."
"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." Rachel sighs, "I'm just rather touchy on that subject."

"Do you mind if I ask why?"

"I just...never thought I'd be the one to have a broken home. I thought everything was fine, but then one day my dad walked
in without his wedding ring on and...I refused to accept it at first, but a part of me knew."
"None of us can control what goes wrong in a marriage. It happens to the best of families, sometimes they just don't work
out. You just have to understand that no matter what happens, both your parents will move on."
"Yeah, Leroy already has..." She spits venomously. "He just expects me to be fine, to sit down with him and Michael and
just be a happy family."
"Why can't you?"

"Because my family includes Hiram Berry. Not Michael Hunter."

"Sweetie, you have to realize that no matter what happens, even if you were to become a part of Michael and Leroy's
family, Hiram would still always be there. He'd still be your family."
"I just can't," She whispers, defeated, because no matter how hard she tries, every time Michael laughs at one of Leroy's
jokes, she can't help but think it should be her dad's gentle laugh instead of his robust one. "I can't deal with it."
"Eventually you will learn to deal. It hurts at first and it probably always will; you'll always feel that little pang when you think
'that should be my dad' but in the end, you want your family to be happy. And if that's with another person, you just do it."
"I do want them to be happy... I want my dad to be happy."

"Do you think he'd be happy with a man that continues to think about another man?"
"I..."

"Would he?"
"No...no he wouldn't."

"You can't expect everything to be fine straight away. It'll hurt, seeing them together, but over time, you'll get used to it,
sweetie. And if you love your dad as much as you say you do, you'd try and work things out with your father."

Rachel sighs, because she knows Cybil is right. She's too stubborn to let the fact that Leroy is happier with Michael
because all she wants is her family back. She wants that old dynamic back that made her happy and bubbly. She doesn't
want to cry anymore, or mourn the loss of a family she desperately wants back.
"I don't think I can do this by myself..."

"You will never do anything alone, sweetie. Not with Quinn by your side."
Quinn.

Will you go to dinner with Leroy and Michael with me?

What?
I believe my last text was rather self-explanatory, Quinn. Please re-read said text because I'm in the middle of setting
up my camera for my nightly MySpace video.
...You still use MySpace?
Quinn, focus.
I don't think it's wise. Not after everything I did.
Baby, Michael is healed now. He doesn't really care and it's not like he'll know.
But I'll know.
You have to face your demons, just like I have to face mine.
Are you doing this to test me? Because I think I've been tested enough today.
Quinn...don't get short with me. I'm only asking because I want my girlfriend there. I want her to support me while I try
and accept this new relationship and I want to be there for her while I support her through her past demons.
I don't need to face anything. I faced mine when I took out $15,000 from my college fund.
Quinn, will you please just think about it?
No, this discussion is over.

Although Quinn said no to dinner, Rachel still goes ahead and tells her dad to tell Leroy that she's accepted the dinner and
she'll go. She isn't happy and she doesn't know why, maybe because she wants to see how her dad reacts on the phone
to Leroy, she stays and watches.

Her dad is stood stock still, face poker as he speaks in clipped tones to his ex-husband. "Yes, she'll go." He pauses,
"Yes, twelve o'clock." He nods to himself, "Goodbye."

Three sentences, if you could even call them that, and Hiram even sighs with what seems like relief when he puts the
phone back down.

"What's at twelve?" Rachel asks, even though she knows. She knows what happens at twelve tomorrow afternoon.
"Signing of the agreement stating that I keep the house. He's entitled to nothing, thanks to his adultery."

"Oh."
Hiram taps his index finger on the phone, "We may be getting divorced baby girl, but we both still love you."

And Rachel just sighs, because it's like she's stuck in the middle again for no apparent reason, "I know..." She grabs a
bottle of water from the fridge and disappears back upstairs.

"Fabray."

Quinn groans and slams her locker shut because she totally doesn't need this right now. Wednesday is already a shit day
because most of her classes are advanced and she really doesn't have the concentration for them today, that and she
can't even look at Rachel without feeling guilty and now Santana is on her fucking case.
"What is it, Santana?"

"Chill the fuck out with the attitude." The Latina crosses her arms over her chest, "Where's Berry?"
"I don't know." Then she narrows her eyes, "Why? If you're planning anything-,"

"Oh. Chill. Out." Santana drops her arms, "I'm just asking because she's usually attached to your damn hip."
"Is there any specific reason why you're talking to me expect for taking the piss out of mine and Rachel's relationship?"

"Just seeing how it's going." She sounds so sickeningly sweet and fake it's unreal, but then again, it's Santana. The girl is
an enigma.

"I swear, if you're planning to do anything to sabotage my relationship with Rach I'll personally kick your ass."
"Why would I need to when you're doing a fine job of it yourself?" And she walks away, calm as day and Quinn's about to
grab her back when Santana says a quiet 'oh' and turns back around again, "You may want to go to the third floor toilet
though."

And she's gone, and so is Quinn because she's already down the hall and halfway up the stairs.


Rachel's in the bathroom, just like Santana said. Her head is down in one of the sinks, cold water gushing over soaked
brown hair and turning blue as it hits the sink. She doesn't notice her girlfriend at first, until the taps are off and she's drying
her hair with a towel she obviously stole from the Cheerio's locker room.
"Who did it?"
Rachel jumps. Quinn hasn't moved from the door and she's staring, eyes blazing. "What?"
"Who slushied you...?"

"Quinn, please don't involved with this."

How could she not be involved? Her girlfriend, her mate, the one she urges for was just slushied and she shouldn't get
involved? Her wolf howls, pride screaming to the forefront of her brain; she needs to sort this out. She needs to bring the
person who did it down.

"Who. Did. It?"

"Quinn, if you go after her, we're through."

And it doesn't sound like an empty threat. It's terrifying, because now Rachel's eyes are blazing, a wet towel hanging over
her shoulders, hair plastered to her skull.

"So it was a her."

"Did you not hear what I just said?"

"Just..." She sighs and clenches her first, "Tell me who it was. I won't go after her."
Rachel sighs, because it's really hard to deny Quinn Fabray anything, especially when she's in her protector mode. It's
oddly arousing but terrifying at the same time. It's fucking thrilling.

"Santana."

Quinn's eyes narrow dangerously, "I'll kill her."

"Quinn. She wants you to go after her, she wants you to make a scene. Don't stoop to her level."

"She slushied you!"

"I can deal with it." Rachel sighs and pulls the towel from around her neck, throwing it into the sink with a haphazard throw,
"I've been slushied since day one in this school. I can deal with it. Just...don't go after her. She wants you to get angry, she
wants to get a rise out of you and she'll keep doing it if she does. Eventually she'll get bored."

Quinn groans and drops her head into her hands, "Fuck sake."
"Quinn, just please drop it."

The blonde groans into her hands and Rachel giggles slightly, because she swears she hears a snort come from her
girlfriend's nose at the same time.

"You're so lucky I love you."

Silence. Dead silence. Only the mild drip drop of water onto a damp towel fills the bathroom and only the heavy cursing in
Quinn's head fills her ears. She said it. She said it at the wrong time, in the wrong place. She did it all wrong and she can't
bare to look up and see that look Rachel is so obviously giving her. So she does the only thing she can do.

She drops her hands, "I am so sorry..." And runs like her life depends on it.

Quinn?
Quinn, will you please text me back or at least pick up your phone?
I hope you know you're being incredibly rude.
I'll text you after my MySpace video.
Okay, so you still haven't text me back and I've been gone an hour. Quinn, I know you're there and I know you're
reading these.
I'm not mad.
Quinn?
You missed dinner again...
I have dinner with Leroy and Michael tomorrow night at Breadstix. Six pm. Just so you know.
I'd really like it If you could be there...
Goodnight, Quinn. Xxxxxxxxxx

"Is there a reason Quinn didn't come to dinner today?"

"We just had a little misunderstanding, dad."

"Do I need to go over there and unleash my Jewish prowess upon her?"
"Jewish prowess?"

Hiram shrugs, "I tend to watch cartoons when there's nothing else good on."
"I worry for your sanity sometimes, dad."

"If I ever end up putting on a cape and pretending to be Superman, revoke my medical license."
Rachel giggles, "Will do."

When her dad called her, she half expected to run out the door and meet Leroy and Michael in the car, but she doesn't,
because at the bottom of the stairs is Michael Hunter, looking incredibly fucking uncomfortable, listening to whatever
Hiram is saying in low tones.

She stops at the bottom step just as Hiram pulls back and Michael looks like he's about to be sick.
"Are you okay, dad?" She asks, glancing at Michael. Mercifully enough he's wearing a long sleeved shirt, covering the
scars on his arms, especially that long jagged one that she still has the urge to touch after all this time. But the scars on
his throat and neck are still on show, especially the one that covers his throat in it's entirety, centred right over his Adam's
apple.
"Fine, baby girl." But his eyes don't leave Michael.

"Okay..." She glances at her dad before looking back to Michael, "Are you ready?"
"Yeah," He clears his throat because it comes out all croaky, "Yes, of course."

Rachel watches her dad as she grabs her coat and leaves, but his eyes are still locked on Michael's and the fact she can't
decipher the look on her father's face or the look in eyes, scares the hell out of her.

It's like deja-vu. Sat almost in the same place, but only one booth down, the same seating plan; Michael and Leroy on one
side, her on the other, and the same awkward tension that just seems to fill the whole restaurant. It was awkward enough,
when they first walked in, because one of Michael's family friends was just leaving with his wife and daughter and he'd
sneered at them and locked eyes with Leroy and just said, "Your perverted ways destroyed his family. It's disgusting."
Homophobia wasn't rare in Lima, honestly, most of the town's population either didn't like it, didn't acknowledge it or were
okay with it. It was just a shame that the people who didn't like it showed it more than the people who did. But it came with
territory, and it was something she'd have to get used to, especially with being with Quinn.

She glanced down at her phone and still no text. No missed calls. No nothing from her girlfriend. She doesn't know why
Quinn reacted to badly, because in her heart of hears, Rachel already knew. That look that Quinn had in her eyes when
they didn't speak until Sectionals was one that she'd seen so many times before in the eyes of her fathers, or in the eyes
of Santana as she talked to Brittany. She saw it in the eyes of Mr. Schuester as he spoke about Emma and the new baby
on the way. She saw it and she knew it, she just didn't want to admit it, mostly because she wasn't sure how she felt.
Was she really in love with Quinn too? Did she love her as much as Quinn did? The same questions raced through her
mind, and she's deleted so many texts just bluntly saying 'I love you too' because it's just something you don't do over the
phone. It's something you do face to face, it's something you share and revel in. It's something you say when you're looking
into golden hazel eyes and just feel that love just explode from your chest when you finally utter the words you'd felt since
you first kissed on that swing in that park where it all began.
"Honey, are you ready to order?" She glances up at Leroy and nods gently before looking back to the open menu on the
table. She hadn't even glanced at it, she'd opened it and left it, because as soon as she'd sat down she wasn't really
hungry anymore. But she picks out a salad, because she doesn't want to appear rude.

They're in the middle of a rather one sided conversation. Both Michael and Leroy are asking how school is going, how the
college search is going and if he needs to give her any extra money for New York. She answers every question with
clipped tones, but not because she doesn't want to be there, but because she's still thinking. The same thought is still
ticking away in her head, ticking away, confusing her, conflicting her.

Did she love Quinn?

"What took you so long?" She hears Leroy ask gently, so gently in fact she barely hears it. She's playing with the straw of
her drink, so Leroy assumes she's too preoccupied to care about their conversation.
"Hiram spoke to me."

Leroy's quiet for so long, "And?"

"I'm sorry to bother you." Rachel's head snaps up and she beams instantly, because there, stood in a long sleeved white
dress shirt, grey slacks, grey tie and grey waistcoat ensemble is Quinn Fabray in all her glory. "I was wondering if the
invitation was still open."

Leroy and Michael both look confused, so they turn their attention to Rachel who's still beaming and almost crying
because Quinn is right there looking at her with such devotion and care.

"It's still open." The singer whispers before shuffling over in the booth and pulling Quinn down by the hand. Quinn blushes
as she sits but before she can even open her mouth to apologize for intruding, Rachel's taken her lips hostage. It's soft
and chaste, nothing like their other kisses. This is almost like they're trying to re-learn one another, but more importantly, it
has that undertone that Quinn feels her heart stop at. She feels it, she feels it so hard and she feels her werewolf do a
back flip in joy.
"Well. I shouldn't say this is a surprise," Leroy chuckles, nudging Michael with his elbow who chuckles also, but it appears
a little forced.
"Sorry." Rachel whispers as she pulls back, "Michael, this is Quinn Fabray. Quinn, this is Michael Hunter."

Michael smiles and extends his hand. Quinn hesitates, because it's finally going to happen. She's going to face a demon
that she never wished to face. She thought she could get rid of it with money, but it was always there, niggling in the back
of her mind with flashbacks to the day she almost killed him in a fit of pure rage. She has the chance to redeem herself.
She has a chance to make herself feel just a little bit better because of it. The wound will never heal of almost shattering
his life, but at least it'll make it bearable.
She only just manages to extend her left hand and clutch his tightly because Rachel grabs her right and soothes the
healing cuts on her knuckles with her the pad of her thumb. Two conflicting feelings; the feeling of a rough hand shaking
hers and a soft, feminine hand sending shock waves up her arm. It's unsettling, but Michael is still smiling when he pulls
back his hand.
"I'm afraid we already ordered, Quinn."

"Oh that's fine, I'm not really hungry."

Rachel just scoffs.

It's hard to eat with two people who doesn't know she's a werewolf in front of her. She hadn't even managed to take her
mother up on those eating etiquette lessons because she'd been so busy, so she honestly didn't know how to eat without
stuffing the whole thing into her mouth. She was starving, she hadn't eaten until two hours ago. Okay, seriously, she's an
Alpha, she needs to eat every hour on the hour or she just wants to faint.
But she manages, she grips her knife and fork like her life depends on it, and she's thankful that she's not a huge fan of
Breadstix's food because she doesn't have the urge to slide the whole plate of spaghetti into her mouth. The urge is still
there...because yeah, it's food...but it's not an animalistic urge like she has with her mother's food.

"So how long have you two been dating?" Leroy asks when he takes a break from his calzone. It honestly takes up the
whole of his plate, and he's already demolished half of the pepperoni and mushroom concoction when he asks.

"A few months." Quinn answers, because Rachel seems a little uncomfortable to talk to her father, "A great few months."
Rachel smiles gently up at her and returns to her salad. Rachel's unusually quiet, which is natural, because Quinn knows
how much she doesn't want to be here. She doesn't want to play happy families with a man she holds no respect for and a
man that ruined her family. But she's proud of Rachel for even showing up. When she'd read the text that Rachel wanted
her to go to dinner, her first thought was 'fuck that' but after some thought, she realized it was the wrong thing to do. Rachel
had been there through thick and thin with her problems, yet she couldn't be there when her girlfriend needed her the
most? It was rude and it was entirely unfair.

It took a hell of a lot of work, but eventually she managed to get herself into the shower, put her make up on, do her hair
and put on her best dinner clothes. It was only at Breadstix, but Jesus, she was meeting the family, she had to make an
impression!
"That's fantastic," Leroy smiles, "Rach, are you enjoying your salad?"

Rachel remains quiet, her fork pushing a croton around the bowl like a one way soccer game. Leroy locks eyes with
Quinn and she immediately understands. She wraps her arm around her girlfriend and presses a kiss to her ear,
"Rach...you can do this, okay?"
The singer sighs and when Quinn pulls back ever so slightly to look at her, she sees her throat work gently.

"It's great, Leroy."

Quinn beams and Leroy looks as if he's about to cry, because even though he still hasn't earned the title of 'daddy', at
least his daughter can talk to him. Baby steps.
Baby steps. That's all he needed right now.

All four of them are outside after the meal. It was still...awkward...but less awkward since Quinn had turned up. The girl was
a godsend. A serious godsend and Leroy, Michael and Rachel couldn't be more thrilled she had turned up.

Leroy decided to get the car and meet them out front and Rachel, in a last second struggle, went with him. Quinn beamed
and pressed a kiss to Rachel's soft lips, murmured 'I'm proud of you' and watched her walk away beside her father.

Then she realized she was left alone with Michael Hunter.
The man didn't speak at first, not until Rachel and Leroy were around the corner, and suddenly Quinn felt completely out of
her depth. Thanks to her training, she managed to pull back the growling of her wolf. It still saw the man as a threat, even if
she didn't, and she was so fucking thankful that she was as strong as she was.

"So...you and Rachel?"

Quinn stuffed her hands into her pockets and nodded softly, "Me and Rachel."

"You make her happy. I think that's the happiest I've ever seen her."
Her wolf howls loudly and she just manages to reign it back, because it's so fucking pissed off and all she wants to do is
say 'do you expect her to be happy after what you've done?' but she bites her lip and just nods because she knows
whatever comes out of her mouth won't be able to be controlled.

"You don't like me very much, do you?"

"Not really..."
"I understand that." He falls silent, "I take it you're the percentage that believes the attack on me was warranted?"
Oh God no, not now. Please don't talk about the attack. Please don't let her or her wolf remember. She can't turn her head,
she can't look at those scars that have plagued her through dinner. She can't look at those scars and remember how it felt
so fucking perfect to sink her teeth in and just rip and tear. She can't let her wolf howl with pride. She can't spit out 'you
deserved it' because she needs to make this work. She needs to face her demons, she needs to make Rachel proud of
her.

"I don't really have an opinion. It's not really any of my business."
She watches Michael nod his head in the corner of her eye and she sighs with relief, because the subject is dropped.

"I just want to thank you for showing up. I had a bad feeling that Rachel would continue to hate her father and I's
relationship."

"She just needs support. I was there to give it to her."

He nods once more, "I hope one day I can make this right."

She wishes she can too because she still wants to hurt him.

"I just hope, one day, she can call Leroy her daddy again."


"Quinn seems rather smitten with you."

Rachel smiles, although it's a little forced, "I'm smitten with her."

"You're both...being safe, right?"

"I don't know if you realize this, but she can't get me pregnant."
Leroy groans softly, "Rach...you know what I mean."

"We haven't had sex, Leroy, if that's what you're asking."

"Okay."

They're silent, but this time, mercifully, it's not awkward and Rachel breathes in with relief.
"So, is Quinn going to New York with you?"

Rachel hesitates, "I...think so. I don't know if she can afford it."
"I thought Russell and Judy put money away for that?" He frowns, "That's what they told me, at least."

She can't say that the money isn't there anymore, because she knows that Leroy would ask where all the money went. She
can't say, so she lies. She lies right through her teeth.

"Oh, she must have the money then. I don't know, I haven't really spoken to her about it yet, but I think she wants to go to
New York with me."
"So...you're in it for the long haul?"
"I would hope so." Because she does and there's nothing else to say.

They arrive at the car and he hesitates as he moves to unlock it, "Do you love her?"
Rachel's fingertips graze the handle of the back door and she wishes the door was unlocked so she could dive in,
because this isn't the person she wants to have this conversation with. It should be Quinn, who's still stuck in front of the
restaurant with Michael.

But Leroy looks at her with soft eyes, the ghost of a smile on his lips, and she's reminded of her daddy. Her daddy that
looked at her like that when she was just a child and she sung into a hairbrush as she jumped up and down on her bed.
Her daddy who looked at her with complete and utter adoration.
Just for a second, she's remembers that inside Leroy, her daddy is still there, locked away, but ready to come out again,
and in that second of clarity she simply says;
"Yes."
*Chapter 7*: Moonlight
Author's Note: I have to apologize for the delay. If you follow me on tumblr you would have read that I injured my right
shoulder. It made writing all but impossible, but thankfully, I'm back in shape and I managed to write the rest of it. Also,
there may be TRIGGERING WARNINGS. It's only minor, but y'know, just in case. Enjoy!

"Quinn Fabray."
Quinn's eyes never leave her laptop, but she smiles, because that voice could make a thousand angels swoon. She's sat
crossed legged on the bed, in the middle of writing an essay for AP History that she'd already put off for two weeks, when
that voice, melodious and perfect just rings through her barren room.

"Rachel Berry."
There's a slight giggle and then she feels the bed dip behind her, but she just continues to write, typing away like there
isn't a very non-mannish hand running up her back and nails digging into the skin as it drags all the way back down again.
"Aren't you going to talk to me?"

Quinn barely hides a smirk, although that scratching on her back is fucking spine tingling. Rachel knows what it does to
her, so she keeps doing it, the same path, the same trail. But Quinn is still writing, head bowed, hair in a sloppy ponytail,
only in a thin wife beater and sleep shorts.
She couldn't look more delicious if she tried. Rachel watches her, over her shoulder as her hand continues to burn the
same trail over her back. Quinn's fingertips hesitate over the keys, like they really don't know where to go next, and she
can see the blonde's throat bob ever so gently when her nails dig particularly hard.

It's like a game between them; a game to see who will snap first. A game to see if Quinn can handle the pressure. And
Quinn can. She really can. It's been months since dinner with Hiram, and although it was a slight disasterokay, huge
disaster, it just pushed Quinn to work that much harder.
She trains daily, with and without Alfred and she doesn't stop until she's exhausted. She trains out in the woods that her
family always hunts in, she trains out by the park under the moonlight, she trains in her very own backyard.
She trains and trains until her body can't take it anymore; and thanks to all that training, she can deal with the smells, she
can deal with the sound of Rachel's voice, she can deal with Rachel's touch without just wanting to ravage her.
It's more sedate and her wolf is calm because it gets its needs attended to; not in the way it wants them to be attended to,
but attended to none the less. They kiss and touch one another, they explore one another's bodies and the moans that
Quinn evokes from Rachel's full lips just makes her wolf howl with satisfaction.

Welluntil it gets hard all over again and they have to stop. She has such a high tolerance, both for herself and her wolf,
but when Rachel looks at her with those almost black eyes, shirtless, bra off and only in panties that are soaked and
musky with moisture, does her resolve break.

The urge to pin Rachel down and just fuck her is too overwhelming, and much to their chagrin, they have to stop. It feels
like a death sentence when she has to pull away, it always does, pulling away from a body so ready and so perfect, but
she knows she has to do it, because her and Rachel's first time should be special.

And it will be.

"Baby, just calm down, okay? You look like you're about to have a stroke."

"I think I'm going to have a stroke." Quinn bounces on the balls of her feet, staring at the front door like it's the door to
the gas chamber, "Oh God, am I having a stroke?"
Rachel chuckles gently, grabs Quinn by the cheeks and pulls her down, "Look at me" Quinn does, only just
managing to rip her eyes away from that damn front door. "You are going to be fantastic. You are in control. You can
do this."
And she smiles softly, because Rachel is looking up at her with radiating confidence, and she knows she wants to
make her girlfriend proud. Proud of her and the fact that she can tame her feral wolf.
"I can do it."

"Not that I'm complaining" Quinn groans, head pushing back against the pillows as she feels that hot wet mouth
envelope her aching nipple, "Butwhy are you here?"

There's no reply, only the rapid flick of a tongue back and forth and she groans so fucking loudly because Rachel's mouth
should come with a safety warning because it's so perfect and it makes her wet her damn panties.
It's like a torture that she never wants to end. She's bound down, small but strong hands pinning her down by the forearms,
half a naked body draped over her and that mouth. My God that mouth. Her wolf is forcing itself against her steel will,
begging to be set free, loudly demanding that it takes Rachel.

She's right there, half naked, willing and ready and fuck she wants her. She can smell that musky aroma, hear every
whispered whimper against hot flesh, hear the pounding of Rachel's heart thumping against her chest. Her body feels as if
it's set alight, especially with the way that mouth trails hot kisses across her heaving chest to envelope another nipple.
Quinn arches, mouth agape, eyes wide, because now Rachel's shifted she can feel those tight abs pressing so fucking
perfectly between her thighs. Her clit aches and it throbs and she knows she's leaving a slick trail across tan skin, but she
can't bring herself to care, because Rachel is moaning just that much more louder because she knows. She can feel
Quinn's wetness slicking her stomach.
"I want you so bad," She hears Rachel whine against her chest, mouth still around a pebbled nipple and it makes Quinn
choke out a groan because fuck, she wants her too, she wants her so bad.
Her wolf is still pushing, still fighting that will that's slowly beginning to crumble because Rachel's grinding her stomach
ever so gently against her aching pussy and,
"Oh God, fuck." It's an honest show of strength as she rips her arms away from Rachel's tight grasp, grabs those wrists
and flips the girl over. Quinn's over her in a second and she only takes moments to truly look at Rachel.
The singer's chest is heaving, lips swollen and wet, eyes almost blackened with an arousal that threatens to engulf her
entire body. Her stomach glistens in the sunlight, showing a haphazard trail of arousal and come that begs to be taken
care of. And her panties, black lace that she knows Rachel wore on purpose to tease her, to goad her, to silently say 'I'm
ready, are you?' because they both know they're ready. They both know they want one another. They both know they just
want to screw and just release all that passion that's built up over the months of holding back.

"The things I'd do to you" Quinn growls and she's honestly shocked by how low and primal her voice sounds. It sends a
shiver through Rachel and Quinn watches with avid golden eyes as Rachel bites her bottom lip and moans at the tone. A
hot flash rips through her pussy and she just grinds ever so slightly against Rachel's thigh, hoping in some way it'll just help
with the delicious hurt that's been growing for months.

"Then do them to me." Rachel whispers finally as she clasps her hands on Quinn's hips, "Do them to me and show me
how much you own me."

"If I die of a stroke, I want to be cremated."

Rachel giggles and adjusts her tie; she's wearing the same suit that she wore for Leroy and Michael's dinner. It was
really the only thing that looked extremely fancy, and she definitely wanted to make a good impression on Hiram
Berry. The man was a damn surgeon, and she was almost positive if she came to dinner in jeans and a ratty shirt he'd
pull out those scalpels that Rachel told her he had stored somewhere.
So as her girlfriend fiddles with her grey skinny tie, she takes the time to make sure the top button of her white shirt is
done, that there's no wrinkles, that her grey waistcoat (that cost a damn arm and a leg) was buttoned and tidy and that
she didn't have any marks on her grey pants. God forbid she walked in that house with tomato ketchup halfway down
her leg.
Mortification much?
"It's going to be fine. You're working yourself up over nothing." Then Rachel beams and presses a quick kiss to her
chin, "My father has met you before."
"Yeah, but this time it's as the girl who's dating you."

"Why should that make a difference?"

"Because he'll know that one day, if not already, I'll defile-,"

"Okay, we'll stop you right there, hm?"

Quinn smirks and wraps her arms around Rachel's waist, taking the chance to glance down Rachel's dress to check out
that cracking cleavage, "Why stop?"
"You know why" Rachel whispers, resting her forehead against Quinn's chest, enjoying the way her girlfriend's
perfume fills her senses.
"Tell me."
Slowly, Rachel smirks and pulls back, "Because I'd rather not be wet and wanting you while I'm eating dinner with my
father."
She watches avidly as Quinn's eyes flicker from hazel to pure gold and back again. It never ceases to amaze her how
Quinn's eyes can change within the click of her fingers, and how she has that control to do it. She has the power to
control Quinn's every mood and that fact that Quinn wants her just as much as she does, maybe more, just drives her
wild with both arousal and smugness.
"I asked for thatdidn't I?" Quinn asks quietly, not trusting herself to talk, because if she says anything else she
knows she'll just pick the tiny singer up and slam her against the fucking door.
She needs to calm down. She needs to calm down, now.
"You sure did." But Rachel's smiling again and clasping her hand in Quinn's, thankfully non-bruised, hand, "Come on
baby. Time to meet my dad."

She wants to ask Rachel if she's sure. She wants to ask Rachel if she's sure about how she feels or if she's just being
swept up in the moment of teenage hormones and lust, but she can't, she just can't. Her girlfriend, her urge, her mate is
laying beneath her, strung out, whining and begging to be fucked and it's driving her to the brink of insanity.
She wants to be ready for this; she wants her wolf to just let her take the lead and not take the control that it loves so much.
She wants to choose where her hands move, she wants to choose what part of Rachel's skin she tastes; she doesn't want
her wolf to make their first time a mistake.

But she feels like she may die if she doesn't touch Rachel, and her hips continue to grind that same path up and down her
strong thigh just to try and get rid of the hurt. It hurts. It hurts so good and just knowing that in some way Rachel is helping
with that, drives her crazy.
"Are you sure?" She asks, her voice a low growl as she rests her hands beside Rachel's head, leaning down on strong
arms to be closer. She needs to be closer, she needs to feel the comfort that Rachel natural gives off. She needs to hear
the heavy pounding of her girlfriend's heart when she thinks of an answer to the one question they'd been avoiding for
weeks.
"Quinn" She whines and it's all Quinn needs. It's all she needs to hear because Rachel's hand slides down the expanse
of her slick stomach and her fingertips are teasing the waistband of her panties. Quinn watches, vaguely aware of
anything around her except for Rachel's hand. It teases the black lace, back and forth slowly, and Quinn watches almost
hypnotized.
"Please" Quinn begs and its almost like a miracle because that hand pushes its way inside Rachel's panties and
strokes. She hears Rachel whimper when fingers brush against her clit, soaking it with the abundant moisture that's so
silky and smooth and Quinn wishes she could taste.

Her wolf roars with an intensity that she's never felt before, but she can't move her body to deal with it. Rachel is essentially
fucking herself and she's just watching; watching that hand rub and fuck her clit, watching as Rachel's breathing gets
heavier, watching as Rachel's mouth opens and closes as she fights to say something.

It's so breathy and husky and she feels all the blood rush to her head. She's dizzy and intoxicated from Rachel and the
smell of her, and when she whines, "Oh fuck, Quinn."
She just snaps.

"Dad?" Rachel calls out and instinctively Quinn grabs her hand tighter, in a vice grip, almost like a lifeline. It's terrifying
to know that after all this time she's going to meet Hiram. It was bad enough meeting Leroy, but it didn't really count;
after all, his opinion wasn't worth spit after what he had done.
"In the kitchen, honey!" There's a pause and the clacking of some pans and Quinn instantly thinks he's getting one
ready to beat her to death or something. She feels herself hyperventilate, but she's breathing just fine. Her body sends
her mixed signals and she just wishes she could bolt, but Rachel smiles up at her and just drags her further into the
house.
"Is Quinn with you?"

She wishes she wasn't, but she's stood right at the kitchen doorway and Hiram is too busy fiddling with the large
assortment of pans on the stove to actually notice. Quinn takes a deep breath and forces a smile so big it actually hurts
her damn jaw.
"Right here, dad."

Hiram's head snaps up and Quinn half expects a pan to come flying at her head, but the surgeon is just beaming. He
wipes his hand on a cloth before extending it with an undeniably charming smile, "Hiram Berry. It's a pleasure to finally
meet you, Quinn."
But there's an undertone, something that no one else in the room can sense but she. It's the calm before the storm, the
hot electric of a battle that demands to be fought. His eyes gleam and she knows why; she has to prove herself.
So when she shakes his hand and forces back the growl of 'mine' that her wolf demands to be let free, she smiles and
says, "The pleasure is all mine."

All control is gone, and all she can do is sate the deepest need she and her wolf desire and Rachel is all but willing to go
along with the ride. Sloppy open mouthed kisses are dotted down Rachel's heaving stomach, stopping momentarily to nip
and bite and leave marks that only scream 'mine' before continuing on a scorching path.

And she's between her legs and that smell, that musky addictive smell has never been so fucking beautiful fills her. She
glances up, eyes all but golden and blown and Rachel's looking down at her, mouth open as she heaves for air, eyes
pleading for her body just to be touched.
So slowly, eyes still locked in a stare that's filled with sexual electricity that it makes that hair on the back of Quinn's neck
stand high on end, she dips her head and presses a kiss to a panty clad pussy.
Rachel's back instinctively arches, breath sucked in but not released before those lips are just brushing. They're there,
doing such a simple thing, but it feels like her body is just being fucked.

She wants to ask Quinn if now is the right time, but before she can even think about forming the words, Quinn is pressing
kisses harder and right on her clit. She jumps, gripping the headboard for support as her body goes haywire. She knows
she's soaked and she knows she should feel embarrassed just by how much, but the look in Quinn's eyes, just makes her
feel so sexy and so wanted. And she loves it.

They have drinks first, which is slightly awkward to say the least. She almost feels like she's at one of her parents
dinner parties where they drink a few glasses of wine before sitting down to dinner. It feels so prim and proper that she
feels like she's in the Stepford Wives novel and Hiram is thewife?
She shudders and Rachel glances at her from the corner of her eye, "Are you cold?"
"Oh, no." Quinn chuckles nervously, "I'm fine."

Hiram is still beyond busy in the kitchen and Quinn is half wondering what the hell he's cooking. There's only three of
them but from the sounds of it, he seems to be cooking some sort of banquet and honestly, she won't complain,
because she hasn't eaten since lunch time because leaving food on your plate when it was cooked for you just isn't
good table manners.
Actually, that was step one of her mothers classes. And fuck were they uncomfortable. Judy had a book, a book, on
table manners and the book was so unbelievably thick it wasn't even funny. How could one person write so much about
how to sit up straight and which hand to put your knife and fork in?
"Baby, it's only dinner. You've already have the worst part out of the way. Now all you need to do is eat dinner and talk
to my dad. He's pretty easy going."
Quinn finds it hard to believe, mostly because of that look in Hiram's eye. She knew what it meant and her wolf certainly
did too. Hiram was asserting himself as Rachel's father. He was telling her 'I'm not quite sure of you yet' and it pissed
her straight off. She was dying to tell him what she'd done to protect Rachel and that she would rather die than hurt her.
But she can't. So she stays silent and fiddles with her glass of orange juice, trying not to smash it in a grip that's too
tight to bare.

"Oh fuck, Quinn" Rachel's eyes squeeze shut as she feels Quinn's lips clamp around her clit, panties only feeling like an
insignificant barrier. Quinn is sucking hard, so brutal in fact that it sends shots of thrills straight up and down her back. Her
toes clench against Quinn's naked back, hands gripping the headboard like a lifeline.
The blonde groans, luxuriating in the taste of her girlfriend. She's never tasted Rachel like this before and the first drop of
Rachel's essence against her tongue just drives her wild with excitement. It's such a distinctive taste, one that only she will
taste and only ever will taste.
Her wolf screams for dominance; to just take Rachel and finally make her hers. It's getting so much harder to reign it back,
to take control of the situation because as she finally tastes her girlfriend, all she can focus on is the way her tongue
brushes that hard and sensitive bump through the rough texture of black panties.

She hears Rachel above her, moaning for more, begging for more and her wolf is tearing her will apart from the inside out.
It wants to come out, it wants to take control, it wants to mark Rachel.
And it's all Quinn wants too.

Her stomach is growling and it only grows louder when Hiram finally shouts 'Dinner's ready!' from the kitchen. She tries
not to dive into her seat because she doesn't want to seem overeager, so instead she waits until Hiram enters the room
to pull out Rachel's chair and let her sit.
He looks vaguely impressed, but he says nothing as he settles down a large oven dish in the centre of the table. Quinn
bites her lip, because God damn, that was chivalrous! So she plops herself down in the seat beside Rachel and sighs.
"What's wrong?" Rachel asks, leaning toward her slightly.

"Nothing," Quinn forces a smile and then scrunches her face up instinctively when Rachel presses a kiss to her nose.
"I wish you'd stop doing that."
"You love it," Rachel sing songs as she grabs her napkin and settles it on her lap with a grin.

She won't admit it, but she does love it. She loves it a hell of a lot.
Hiram settles an array of steamed vegetables on the table, as well as bread rolls and even a pot of toothpicks.
"Jesus" Quinn whispers, because it truly is overkill what level this man will go to. Hiram stares at her, midway sitting
down and she just forces a smile, "It looks fantastic." And the man grins before settling himself into his seat, grabbing a
napkin for himself and it's only then Quinn realizes she has to use a napkin.
She grabs one from the centre of the table but pulls too fast in her haste to prepare herself for dinner, sending pure
white napkins across the table and onto her lap. "Oh, uhm" She struggles, silently berating herself as she picks up
the napkins and settles them back onto the table, and in her haste, knocks over her glass of orange juice onto a stark
white dining table cloth. Rachel is giggling, Hiram stares.
And all she wants to do is just die.

She only drags herself away when there's an almost painful tug to the back of her hair, so with a whine from both her and
her wolf, she departs the soft spot between Rachel's leg with a kiss and crawls her way back up.

Rachel's cheeks are flushed, chest heaving, tongue wetting dry lips, "Fuck"
"You okay?" She only manages to say, voice so very low. She watches Rachel shudder at the tone and just for one
second she thinks she's scared her, thinks that she's reminded her of the attack of Michael Hunter, or the way she
attacked Alfred Noble, but no. Rachel's arms are wrapping around her neck, pulling her down until their nose to nose.
"Rach?"
Fingers tease through the back of her hair, pulling and tugging and Quinn's mews because it's so relaxing but torturous at
the same time. She still feels that heat from where she lays between Rachel's leg and all she wants to do is dive straight
back in. But she doesn't want to use strength to pull away from Rachel's grip. Through all the training she's still terrified
about what she could do. Alfred has taught her all he knows, Cybil had helped as much as she can. It's up to her now.
There's no one else to help. There's no one else to fall back on or blame. She has to control herself. She has to control the
need that desperately runs through her body.
So she stays there, all the while her wolf slamming full force against a wall that threatens to buckle at any given second.

"Rach?" She asks again, focused on blown brown eyes that flick from one golden eye to the other. It's unnerving,
because Rachel is never this silent, but she looks as if she's contemplating something deep. So she swallows, chews
down hard on her bottom lip and just waits.

Something feels different between the two of them and Quinn can't quite pinpoint it. It might be the way Rachel is
searching her; almost as if she's trying to see if Quinn's wolf is trying or will break free. Or it might be the way that Rachel's
body feels so perfect against her own, so warm and needed. Or maybe it's the way Rachel pulls her hands back, props
herself up on her elbows and pushes herself and Quinn up.
Suddenly sat up on the knees in between Rachel's legs, Quinn watches her girlfriend with a bated breath.
"Right now?" Rachel finally whispers, voice thick with arousal.

And all Quinn can do is nod because she knows they're both ready. They've been ready since that time in the classroom
when she finally made Rachel come; when she finally watched Rachel's body erupt with a pleasurable agony and just
explode.
And even if she wants to say no, her wolf won't allow it.
It's a fucking disaster of unimaginable proportions and all because of one thing.
Hiram gets up to get a pitcher of water and it's only then that Quinn opens her mouth to speak of the problem that will
plague the rest of the dinner. "Baby" She turns to Rachel with wide, scared eyes, "I need meat."
"Excuse me?" Rachel asks, turning to face her almost pale looking girlfriend. She's never seen her girlfriend look so
pale; only when she was shot in the leg butthat's something that's never spoken about. The wound has completely
disappeared, but the hurt in Rachel's heart is still there. She still feels that pang deep inside whenever she thinks that
she could have lost her girlfriend to a stupid hunting party. "Are you okay?"
"I need meat."

"Quinn, you're well aware that both my father and I are Vegan, correct?"

"I know that but" It's the only way she can control her wolf from breaking free. Her father had given her tips on how to
deal with; along with controlling your breathing and all the other clich things, one thing a wolf cannot turn away from is
meat. She needs a juicy medium rare steak on her plate, mashed potato, chunky fries and a hell of a lot of ketchup,
not pesto and pine nut tagliatelle.
"But what?" Rachel huffs, "Quinn. My father and I take our Veganism very seriously, how do you think we would feel if
you had half a cow on your plate?"
"I know but I-,"

"I know you like to eat meat and I understand that, Quinn, but you have to realize that my father cooked this dinner for
us. You're going to have toyou knowsuck it up." Rachel shrugs helplessly and pats her hand over Quinn's
clenched left and pulls back just in time for Hiram to arrive back at the dinner table.
He settles down two pitchers of water and sits back down into his seat. Quinn watches with helpless eyes as he grabs
tongs, "Oh dad, would you mind giving Quinn a big portion? She has a big appetite."
His eyes flicker from his daughter's to Quinn and then immediately to her waistline. She bites down hard on her inner
cheek and silently curses her girlfriend, even though she was only looking out for her. As she watches Hiram give her a
monstrosity of a portion of tagliatelle, all she can wonder is;
Does he think I'm a fat bastard now?

Quinn's on her back because Rachel somehow knew that she was finding it difficult to control herself. So now the kisses
to her jaw and throat are only intended to soothe, not to arouse. They're sweet and caring and it fills Quinn's heart with
such joy because it's times like these she truly feels like she has the love of her girlfriend. She's cared for and loved with
every available ounce that Rachel has to give. And she loves her mate even more for it.

"We'll take it slow," Rachel eventually says, intertwining her fingers with Quinn's and pulling the hand up to settle on the
pillow. The kissing turns slower, lips and tongue brush against her jawbone and it's not enough to make her wolf howl for
dominance, but its enough to send a fresh wave of moisture between her legs. "If it's too hard to handle, tell me to stop
and I will" She presses a kiss to the centre of Quinn's throat and smiles when she feels that growl vibrate against her
lips, "Okay?"
And only when Rachel is between her legs, lips brushing against the waistband of her panties, tongue dipping in ever so
slightly to brush against the skin underneath does she whine out a strangled, "Okay."
Rachel's hand unclasps from Quinn's strong grip, dragging down across a heaving chest and stomach to finally settle
between her legs. She rubs through panties that are soaked with moisture, and she watches her fingers avidly as they
work the sensitive flesh.

Quinn whines and moans, gripping the bed covers and pulling as Rachel runs the pad of one finger down her slit to settle
at her soaked entrance. "Can I?" Her mate asks quietly from between her legs and she's half temped to rip the damn
things off herself so Rachel will just touch her, but instead, she looks down, presses her forearm to her forehead and nods.
Her panties are pulled down so agonizingly slow but Rachel makes up for it for the kisses she presses down her inner
thigh and all the way to her ankle until finally, they're off. Her body is humming with sexual frustration and to try and hide
away from the embarrassing amount of moisture between her legs, she slides her forearm to her eyes and covers them.
She vaguely hears Rachel whisper, "Oh God, baby" And she's too embarrassed to open her mouth because she knows
Rachel can see how wet she is. So she moves to snap her legs closed, but Rachel holds them open with a strength that
surprises her.

Quinn feels Rachel's eyes on her, burning her skin with a levelled gaze and she wants to tear her arm away and look, to
see if her girlfriend is freaked out or just simply enamoured but then she feels a delicious hot mouth wrap around her clit
and her body just fucking jumps off the bed.
She exhales loudly, hands shooting down to grip thick brown tresses, "Yes!" She whines when she feels that skilled
tongue flick and circle her clit, fucking it to perfection. Rachel moans against her pussy, luxuriating in the way that Quinn's
already swollen clit hardens under the teasing of her tongue and the way moisture just floods across her taste buds.

Her golden wolf, so primal and strong starts to crack the wall she'd built up from training. It attacks and snarls and bites
and it's so fucking close to coming free, and Quinn, with every available strength she has left, reigns it in, locks it down and
just enjoys the way her mate fucks her clit.
Rachel's eyes flicker up and watch as Quinn writhes against her mouth, pushing her head down, hips moving up to fuck
her mouth. She feels so empowered, much more than Quinn will ever be. Here, in Quinn's childhood bedroom, she has the
power over her girlfriend. And it's awe inspiring.

Her head is pushed down further and her tongue slips from Quinn's clit, "Baby" The blonde whines, lifting her hips up to
Rachel's mouth is just that much closer to her entrance. "There."

Her voice is so low and dangerous, Rachel knows she's close to snapping, but she can't bring herself to stop and if Quinn
kills her through multiple orgasms, it's gonna be a good way to go.

"Inside?" Rachel whispers, dragging the full length of her tongue down Quinn's dripping slit, stilling at a wet and ready
entrance that just begs for Rachel's tongue.

And Quinn just pants, hands still clenched tightly in Rachel's hair, "Inside." And then she feels that hot wet muscle push
deep inside her and she just fucking screams.

It's not enough. She feels like bolting straight out the door and going to hunt, and she kicks herself mentally for not
taking her dad's offer to hunt that afternoon. He offered, clear as day and she declined because she didn't want to go to
dinner with a full stomach.
Oh, how stupid she was. How could she not remember the most basic thing about her girlfriend? Well, apart from the
fact that she's destined for Broadway and New York. How could she forget the simple fact that's Vegan?
Seriously. She should just sit in front of her mirror when she gets home and berate herself on how she forgets the
simplest of things.
But Rachel looks so happy, eating and laughing with her dad and honestly, the food is fantastic, it's like an electric
burst on her taste buds butthere's just no meat. Her wolf demands the food it needs and she's trying to tell it to calm
down, that she'll grab a cheeseburger on the way home or something, but it's just not having any of it.
She growls.
Rachel's head snaps so fast to her it's miraculous that it didn't come clean off her neck and Hiram is just staring at her
like she's suddenly grown a second and then a third head. And she's just sat there, hands clutching her fork like it's her
only lifeline because that growl wasn't human and the Berry's don't own any pets.
"Ohhaha!" Rachel laughs and Quinn can obviously tell it's fake even though Rachel is a spectacular actress, "Was
that your stomach?" Quinn just stares, because seriously, is she trying to make her sound like a blimp or something?
But Rachel is looking back to her father, trying to ignore the hole that Quinn is burning into the side of her head, "Sorry
about that dad. Quinn has a big appetite, just like her father."
And there's a long pause and Quinn can feel the fork in her hand bend under the strength she's holding it with. Hiram is
just watching her, he can see she's pale and he's not stupid. He's a surgeon and a damn fine one at that. Something is
going on and he knows exactly what it is.
"I think it's time we had a talk, don't you think, Quinn?"

And both her and Rachel gulp simultaneously.

Quinn is damn near riding her tongue and it feels amazing. Quinn is propped up on one elbow, one hand still clawing at
her scalp as her hips move up and down, trying to pierce herself on Rachel's tongue. Rachel moans into Quinn, gripping
her hips in a grip so tight she wouldn't be surprised if she left bruises.
"Oh God yes, fuck me." Quinn throws her head back, mouth wide as she moans. She's unhinged, so much so that things
that usually would never come from her mouth spring free almost as if it's second nature. But Rachel's tongue feels so hot
inside her and it's sliding against each and every one of her tight walls like it belongs there.

Rachel's hips, of their own accord, beginning to push down into the bed, humping the mattress to try and alleviate the
tension on her clit. And it feels so good. So she grinds her pussy down harder against the bed, all but fucking it through
her panties as she pleasures her girlfriend to a pinnacle that threatens to rear its head at any given second.
"Deeper baby, deeper" Quinn begs through a moan, grabbing the back of Rachel's neck and pushing without warning.
Rachel's tongue slides just that bit further in and Quinn's eyes cross at being filled. "OhJesus" Her throat is clenched
and she can hardly breath through the pleasure her body screams.

But Rachel just moans as her taste buds flood with Quinn's essence, and she hardly registers the hand gripping the back
of her neck, just those walls that tighten every time she dips in and out and flicks and rubs.

She wants to ask Quinn how it feels, but the thought of pulling her tongue free is something she doesn't really want to think
about. So she grips those hips harder, stares up at Quinn who's head is still thrown back, throat working for air, chest
having, breasts bouncing, nipples hard in a desperate urge to be touched.
But then she reaches up quickly, grabs that hand around the back of her neck and moves it up to clasp around Quinn's
breast. Quinn's head drops down, chin to chest as she regards Rachel and she knows immediately what she wants her to
do.

So when Rachel's hand moves back down to her hips to grip once more, she pinches and rolls her nipple hard between
two fingers and the pleasure just escalates that much more. It's so hot and her wolf is fucking running free through her
head and all she wants to do is pin her fucking mate down and make her hers, but she has to come. She needs to come.
And she can't fucking breathe because she needs it that badly.
"Make me fucking come, Rachel!"

It's quiet. Too quiet. All the jovial banter is long gone and all that's left is Hiram staring at her, Rachel clenching her
hands around the napkin on her lap and Quinn looking down at her plate as if the answer to the meaning of life
suddenly appeared in it.
"I know what's going on, Quinn, and I don't like it very much."

"Dad"

"No Rachel, this needs to be said." Hiram adjusts himself on his chair before clasping his hands together and settling
them on the dining table, "I know how secretive it is and I know you probably don't want to talk about it, but if you're
going to be dating my daughter, I need to know she'll be safe."
Quinn's head snaps up, "I'll protect her with everything I have, sir."
"How can you?"

Quinn's brow furrows, "Excuse me?"

"How can you protect my daughter with your condition?"

Rachel and Quinn spare a glance, "Condition?"

Hiram sighs, "You're bulimic aren't you?"
Quinn feels like face planting her tagliatelle.

"Rachel, I'm almost there! Oh fuck, I'm so close baby! Do me, do me hard."
So Rachel does, she flicks and rubs her tongue as hard as she can against Quinn's tightening walls, she swallows the
come that Quinn offers and silently pleads for Quinn to come soon so she can taste the bounty she deserves.
And Quinn collapses onto her back, both hands teasing her breasts, pinching her nipples like her life depends on it. Her
hips ride that tongue, pushing it deeper and faster inside her. She luxuriates in the way that Rachel's nails dig deep into
her hips and she knows she's almost there, right at the edge of her orgasm, but she needs something, she needs
something else.
"Fuck my clit." She begs, eyes screwed shut, "Fuck my clit, Rach."
And in the midst of her own growing orgasm, with hips fucking the mattress of Quinn's bed, she pulls a hand away from
her girlfriend's hip and violently skims the pads of two fingers over Quinn's clit, back and forth, over and over again.
Quinn is driven wild and her hips move twice as fast against Rachel's working mouth and before Rachel can even take a
breath that her body so desperately aches for, she locks eyes with pure gold and watches as her girlfriend rips free an
animalistic growl and comes, so hard and fast into her mouth, and she swallows each and every drop like it's her last
meal.
And only when she pulls her tongue free and licks at her girlfriend's twitching clit, does she feel herself pushed up and
made to stare into dangerous golden eyes.

"Quinn."

"Dad! How could you possibly think that?" Rachel shrieks before turning her attention to Quinn, "Don't pay attention to
him."
"Rachel Barbra, I am your father and Quinn needs to listen to what I have to say."

"I'm" Quinn clears her throat and shakes her head, "I'm not bulimic."

"See!" Rachel exclaims with two raised hands, "How could you possibly think she has an eating condition, dad? She's
eating."
"Sufferers of bulimia eat large amounts before binging, and by how shaky and pale Quinn is"

"I'm not bulimic. I just" Quinn sighs, "I need meat. I'm not really used to this Vegan diet to be honest."

"You're pale and visibly shaking because you need to eat meat?" He seems more than less than convinced and its
terrifying. So Quinn looks to Rachel for help, because this is something that really doesn't need to be talked about at
the first dinner with the parents.
"Dadwill you just leave it? Quinn has no eating disorder whatsoever, I'm around her enough to know that." Before
Hiram can open his mouth to reply, Rachel narrows her eyes, "I know you're a Doctor, but please don't throw around
accusations that just aren't true. You can even talk to Mr and Mrs Fabray if you prefer."
Quinn nods with a silent reply and it's enough to sate Hiram Berry, because he knows that bulimia sufferers tend to not
want someone talking to their parents about their condition. But through the awkward silence as he watches Quinn
primly eat her dinner, he's only half convinced.

"Quinnyou can control this."

Quinn growls and throws her down onto the bed, pinning her wrists down above her head with one strong hand. Rachel
squeals and fights against the grip, but when Quinn's body comes to lay between her legs, she knows the battle is already
lost. She feels her girlfriend's body still quake with her orgasm and when Quinn leans forward, pressing her nose to her
neck, the pressure between her legs is too much to bare.
Quinn is breathing in her scent, licking the skin from time to time, almost as if she's trying to prepare it. But Rachel is too
gone to even care and the fact that Quinn is doing nothing to touch her, to make that pressure between her legs explode, it
just drives her crazy.

And she knows it's the wrong thing to say, especially with the wolf inside Quinn that's controlling her every move, but she
bites down on Quinn's ear, earning a growl of appreciation and begs huskily, "Make me yours."

They're both silent at the table, Hiram got up to answer the phone and Rachel knows that Quinn just wants to leave. "I
amso sorry." Rachel whispers carefully, because she can tell Quinn's wolf wants to rip the house to shreds. Those
eyes keep flickering from hazel to golden and she knows that Quinn is barely controlling it.
"I can't believe he thinks I'm bulimic, I mean, seriously? Have you seen the way I eat?"

Rachel is so hard pressed to correct her girlfriend about the difference between anorexia and bulimia but she keeps
her mouth shut, just in case it pushes Quinn over an already frayed edge.
"He's just confused, unless you want to tell him you're a wolf."

"Yeah," Quinn scoffs sarcastically, "That'll happen."

"Rach, honey, you're daddy is on the phone."

Suddenly Rachel's whole demeanour shuts down and Quinn notices instantly, "You don't need to talk to him," She
says, because she really doesn't have to, but Rachel is already out of her seat.
"It's fine. I'll talk to Leroy. It's not like I can ignore him forever."

And she's gone and Quinn feels so unbearably alone.

Until Hiram appears in the doorway.
Quinn feels herself being pushed to the back of her mind so that her wolf can take control. She can feel it but she can't
stop it, because her wolf is so unreliably strong and it's finally telling her 'I'm taking what I want' and Rachel, fuck, Rachel,
she's just sealed her own fate by telling her that.
It's her body, but her wolf has full control and all she can do is luxuriate in the scents and the tastes of her girlfriend as the
wolf licks and nips at her neck. She knows what her wolf is planning, it's planning to mark her, a mark that'll be there for the
rest of Rachel's life. And it's bad, because she knows that Rachel doesn't know it'll be permanent.

So she fights the Alpha with all the strength she has; a battle of wills that Rachel isn't privy to. It's hard and she can feel
herself losing strength because her wolf is just that strong, and when she opens her mouth, not of her own accord, to bite
down on Rachel's neck, she forces herself to the front of her mind and stops herself, just as the tips of her teeth are
pressing into tan skin.

"Rach"
As she pulls back, Rachel pulls her back in and kisses her passionately, tongues brushing together in a hormonal dance.
And Quinn melts into the touch, and her wolf is pushed further back into her mind, and just as if Rachel knew exactly what
she was thinking, she pulls back and whispers against pouting lips, "You have control."

And Quinn, eyes still pure gold stares back at her girlfriend, feeling her wolf try to slam itself back into assertion, nods
hesitantly through heavy breaths, "I have control."

"I think this conversation will go a little better if my daughter wasn't here to listen in, correct?" Hiram asks rhetorically as
he takes his seat back down at the dinner table. He smiles gently, and Quinn can tell it's his professional smile that he
uses with patients, and all of a sudden she thinks he's come back into the room with a vast array of scalpels hidden
under his shirt, ready to cut her apart.
"Mr Berry, before you say anything, can I just say something?"

He leans back and nods, "Go right ahead."

"I'm not bulimic. Far from it. I eat like a pig and I eat like a pig all the time. I mean, the only reason why I'm eating all
daintily is because my mom thought it would be good manners. Usually I have my food halfway down my shirt and
wellI don't want you to think your daughter is dating a pig."
"I've known you for a long time, Quinn. I've been friends with your father since High School and my ex-husband was
there at your birth. We have stronger ties than you may think."
"I know. That's why I'd never lie to you, Mr. Berry. I care too much for Rachel to have our relationship built up on a lie."

Hiram nods thoughtfully, "Okay." He concedes and immediately Quinn blows out a breath of relief, with Hiram, in turn
chuckles at, "Do you have anything you want to tell me, Quinn? Like you said, you can't have a relationship built up on
a lie."
And she knows, instantly, not that he might think she's a wolf, but that he's had an inkling all these years, and seen as
though he can't find it out from Russell, he may as well try to get it out of his daughter. It's sneaky and it's conniving,
and if Hiram Berry was a wolf he'd be a fucking brilliant one at that.
But sits back, shakes her head and says, "No lies, but information I'm not willing to divulge at the moment."
Hiram barks out a laugh and Quinn wants to ask him what was so funny, because she was being deadly serious, but he
answers her question before she can even ask it.
"Spoken just like your father."

"Quinn" Rachel takes Quinn's hand, taking it on a tour down her body, over sensitive perky breasts, down and across
each individual rib, down to a quivering stomach, dipping a finger down into the bellybutton before dragging it all the way
down to rest on her panties. "Take them off."
And Quinn bites down hard on her bottom lip, because she's still pent up with all this strength that only hunting can get rid
of. She can't touch Rachel in this condition, unless
She grabs the waistband of Rachel's sodden black lace panties and just clear rips them from the tan body. The singer
squeaks and watches as Quinn dangles the panties up near her face and fucking smirks as she sends them flying across
the room where they land with a dull thud against her vanity.

Rachel has the good grace to blush by how wet her panties are, but now Quinn is looming back over her, hands planted by
her head, "Help me"
And Rachel understands.
"You're trying to be gentle" Rachel whispers, brushing a her hand through Quinn's golden mane, taking in the shine of
Quinn's eyes as they explore her now naked body. "I'll help." And she wants to, because she's a virgin and she knows
Quinn will never live it down if she hurts her during their first time.

"I'll help you" She whispers, taking one of Quinn's hands and allowing the girl to adjust herself, resting herself beside her
body, "I'll help you" And she leans up and kisses quivering lips, and she knows that the wolf is trying to fight back for
control as that hand dips lower and lower and lower until finally they rest on an aching wet pussy. "Quinn"
The blonde buries her head in Rachel's neck, kissing and nipping at the skin, but much more gentler than before, but
Rachel stills Quinn's hand on her, just so she can tame herself just that little bit more before they go further.
"Do you" She swallows as she feels Quinn's tongue against the base of her throat, "Need to mark me?"

Quinn growls against tan skin, because she knows that this is the question that will seal their relationship. It's the question
that will undoubtedly answer all the other questions. Yes, they're going to get married. Yes, they're going to be a family.
And all because of one mark. Rachel is Quinn's mate. There is no one else.

Rachel's about to ask again through the silence, but she feels Quinn nod gently against her, pressing a kiss back to her
throat.
"You can" She whispers, "If you want."

"It's permanentand"
"I know what it means, Quinn." She continues to brush her hand through Quinn's locks, hoping to soothe the pounding of
both their hearts. Rachel is terrified, though she won't show it because she knows Quinn will take it the wrong way. She's
not scared about being 'Quinn's property', that thought damn near excites her, she's more terrified of the fact she has to be
bitten to do it. "I trust you."
Quinn cries, silently against Rachel's shoulder because that's the first time anyone has ever said that to her. It's only three
words, and I love you always hits her heart just the way it's suppose to, but hearing that her mate finally, after all they've
been through, that she trusts her, just tears her apart and her wolf, ever violent and strong screams straight the back of her
mind and howls in surrender. Her wolf knows what Quinn is going to do, it knows that Rachel trusts them both; something
they've both struggled to prove to brunette.

There's no reason to fight anymore.

"I love you" Quinn whispers, pressing a kiss to Rachel's clavicle, licks the skin gently with the tip of her tongue and just
as Rachel opens her mouth to return to endearment, Quinn's bares her teeth and bites down hard.

"Well, Quinn. I have to say, it was a pleasure having your company."

He sounds happy, but Quinn can smell how unsure he is about her. He knows something is going on with her, and
maybe her whole family and when he grips her hand in a goodbye handshake, he grips a little more harder then is
strictly necessary.
Rachel, obvious to what is happening before her, just beams, because in her mind, dinner has been a success. Well, a
mild success, but still a success at that.
Quinn doesn't even flinch when Hiram grips hard, and the gleam in his eyes immediately let her on to what she's done
wrong. He's gripping hard, hard enough to hurt anyone's hand or at least make them yelp out, but she's just there,
content, eyes hard as she watches him.
"Thanks for having me," She finally says, pulling her hand back, "Sorry I have to go so early, but my mom and dad are
expecting me back and it's school tomorrow."
"Of course, of course," He replies with the flick of a hand and a smile, "Don't be a stranger, okay?"

"Of course not." And all she can think as Rachel takes her hand and drags her to the door, is that she'd rather eat grit
than come back to the Berry residence again.
They're both outside, under the gentle glow of the porch light and Rachel is smiling up at her, "I have to apologize for
my dad. I honestly never thought he'dsay something like that."
"Well, at least I didn't chew his head off over dinner. He just thinks I'm bulimic." Quinn rolls her eyes playfully, "It's
nothing, really. I was reallykeeping it together well." Quinn shrugs, "Honestly, I'm shocked by how much my wolf
didn't want to assert itself in front of him butI think he has an inkling something is going on."
Rachel sighs, "I know. We'll keep it low key, okay?" But then she's beaming again, and it's so damn infectious that
Quinn grins right back, "You were strong tonight. I wasn't even worried that your wolf would take control."
Quinn blushes, "I try for you."
"And I appreciate it," And Rachel pushes herself up and kisses Quinn gently, enjoying the silent safety that Quinn's
lips hold, "More than you know."
"I love you."

"I love you too."

The body beneath her tenses and she barely hears the gasp of pain through the roaring in her ears. She feasts on the
blood like her final meal and relishes in the metallic taste that floods her mouth. It's not a particularly nice taste, after all,
she is swallowing the blood of her mate, but the thought of finally knowing that Rachel is hers and hers alone, just makes
the blood taste like her favorite candy.

"Q-Quinn" It's there, barely, through the heavy roaring in her ears and the deep and husky of her proud and sated wolf.
But Rachel's body has gone slack beneath her so she pulls her teeth from the wound and licks at it softly, wiping away the
remaining blood. It isn't a deep wound, just enough to split skin and bleed, but Quinn knows it's there for life and as she
licks the remaining blood away and presses a kiss to the sore wound, she smiles with pride.

She looks up and presses a soft kiss to Rachel's lips, watching as those gorgeous brown eyes, full of emotion, finally
open once more to regard her. Inside, she panics, worried that Rachel hated the whole experience, but then gently, Rachel
smiles and leans up to kiss her nose with a grimace.
"Ouch."

"Yeah, it'll hurt for a few days"

Rachel fingers the wound with the tips of her fingers, looking down at it with shining eyes, "And it'll always be there?"

"It'll fade over timebut it'll always be there. I'd suggest makeup."
Rachel chuckles and drops her hand from her shoulder, turning to look back up at her girlfriend, "Noted." Then she sighs
when Quinn's still stoic hand brushes against her aching clit, "Are you going to take care of that?" She asks with a
whisper.

Quinn nods, "I still need" But Rachel smiles and it effectively cuts her off because Rachel's hand is already sliding back
down her body and resting atop her hand, "Are you sure?"

"I belong to you now, Quinn. You've marked me, you're in my heart and now" She leans up, propping herself up on an
elbow, flicking her tongue out against Quinn's lower lip, "I need you inside me."

Quinn rubs her finger gently against Rachel's clit, in small little circles that has the singer keening. She whines and arches
her back, watching Quinn's hand move against her with hooded eyes, and Quinn just watches each and every expression
that drifts across her mate's face.
"This okay?" She asks softly and at Rachel's affirmative nod, she drags her finger down Rachel's slit and circles the
sopping entrance. Quinn groans, because fuck, Rachel wasn't even this soaked when she was riding her stomach in the
classroom. Had the bite turned her on? Had the thought of being owned turned her on?

"Just go slowokay?"
Quinn leans down and captures Rachel's lips with her own, and slowly, as their lips and tongue brush together,
memorizing one another's tastes, Quinn's taste still distinct on Rachel's tongue, Quinn pushes her middle finger in slowly,
thumb rubbing soothing circles on her clit.

She hears Rachel's heart thump harshly against her chest and she calms her down with a few more well placed flicks of
her tongue, but continues to push in, and only when she feels that particular barrier, she pulls back.

"Are you ready?"

Rachel swallows, because this is a huge decision. After all their waiting, and Rachel's 'wait until 25' rule was well out of the
window, it was finally going to happen. And she couldn't be happier. A girl that would go to the end of the earth for her, who
would protect her and never hurt her, was here, right now, ever loving and willing to share something special.

"I'm ready."
And that finger is pushed further and Rachel bites down hard on her bottom lip to fight off the scream of pain. It burns her
whole lower body and it feels as if she's been stabbed in her lower abdomen, but as Quinn holds onto her, finger still
inside her, pressing gentle kisses to the mark on her shoulder, the pain disappears as quickly as it came, almost as if it
was never real.

"I'm"
Quinn smiles down at her and nods, "Not a virgin anymore."

"I feel" Rachel chuckles to herself, "Why do I feel like I need to hold a party to celebrate this?"
But Quinn just smirks, and she feels herself to melt into the bed, because that golden hue to Quinn's eyes just seem to
sparkle in the sunlight. "You'll be celebrating soon."
And she slowly begins to move her finger inside that hot wet heat, and she feels herself get wet all over again as she feels
those walls tense around her. She watches Rachel, watches her hips rise and fall with the gentle tempo of her finger,
watches Rachel's face when she teases her clit with a fleeting touch that disappears when her finger is pulled back out.

It's a delicious torture that sets both their bodies alight, but when Rachel groans and all but demands, "Two" Quinn feels
a flood of moisture rush between her clenched legs. She does what her mate orders and adds a second and pushes back
in so slowly, but not because it might hurt Rachel, but because she wants Rachel to beg.
She wants Rachel to beg, just like she had. She wants Rachel to beg Quinn to fuck her, to make her forget her own name,
to come so hard that she can see those fucking metaphorical stars that she adores.
Rachel's hips grind up and down, pushing Quinn's probing fingers deep inside and she chokes out a moan because those
fingers are so deep inside her, filling her, fucking her to within an inch of her life.
And Quinn goes faster, panting with exertion as her arm works at a speed that only her wolf uses to run. She can hear the
sticky wet sounds between her girlfriend's thighs, and as she watches herself drive Rachel to the brink of an explosion
orgasm, she feels her own rip straight through her body.

And just at the last second, she adds a third, and Rachel screams because it feels so fucking good, and she's sitting up,
wrapping her arms tight around Quinn's neck as she rides those fingers like her life depends on it.

"Oh fuckmake me fucking come. Pleaseoh God please, I'll do anythingplease just make me come."
And Quinn just moans, because fuck, Rachel's lips are right against her ear, and those whines that erupt from those plump
lips are so fucking delicious that all she can do is attend to her girlfriend's needs.
So she holds the singer close, one arm wrapped around a frantically working waist, while her other hand fucks her
girlfriend's hole, the palm of her hand brushing and hitting her sensitive clit with each and every thrust.
And Rachel's moaning her name, burying her face in Quinn's hair as she clenches around those three perfect fingers as
the most brutal fucking orgasm rushes through her body and just engulfs her. And through it all, the way her orgasm seems
to fuck her body all over again, and the way those fingers bend and hit something perfect inside her, she screams and
squirts long and hard over the palm of Quinn's hand.
And she sees those stars she adores so much.

She feels kisses pressed up the length of her back, right over her spine, and it's so soothing that she feels like falling
asleep all over again. She barely feels the ache in her shoulder when she turns her head to look over it, because all she
sees is wet blonde hair and shining hazel eyes as they flick up toward her.
"Wondered what it would take to wake you. I already took a shower and had something to eat."

Rachel whines and buries her face in Quinn's pillow, "You exhausted me."
She barely hears Quinn chuckle and then those kisses are being placed up her back again, and she melts into those soft
lips as they caress her. It feels so perfect and she feels so loved that it brings tears to her eyes. And as Quinn sooths her
with kisses, she cries softly into the pillow, because everything feels so perfect.

She doesn't think of her father and the stress the divorce is putting him under. She doesn't think of Leroy and how he's
enjoying his new life with Michael like he's done nothing wrong. She doesn't think of all the hurt she's endured from the split
up of her family. She just thinks about Quinn and their love for one another and when Quinn reaches her ear and presses a
kiss to it, she just sobs and she feels Quinn smile against her, because she knows exactly why she's crying. Because she
feels the exact same way.
Later that night, when Russell returns from work and Judy from her day out with the girls from her book club, they sit down
together and eat takeout. It feels so weird, watching Russell Fabray pull out two twenties from his wallet and pay the
delivery boy, because all the Fabray's eat is home cooked meals.

Judy makes it a rule to never eat take out, to never eat anything that she hasn't hand prepared, but as they sit down
together and eat, jovial banter being thrown across the dining table and both of Quinn's parents smirking at them because
they know exactly what's gone on; two showers for Quinn and one for Rachel couldn't rid the smell of their love making,
and Rachel is all but sure that they can hear their daughter's thoughts.
"Why did you come around anyway?" Quinn asks around a large mouthful of chicken fried rice.

"Quinn, please." Judy ushers with a roll of her eyes.

"Sorry," Quinn mumbles again, taking extra time to chew and then swallow before asking Rachel again. "Not that I wasn't
happy to see you." She adds with a beaming smile.
The singer blushes and bounces in her seat, letting her knife and fork come to rest on her plate. "I received a very
interesting package today! Both booklets for Julliard and NYU came today."
Quinn's smile drops, but Russell and Judy's remain.

"That's fantastic," Judy beams, "It's almost time to enroll, right?"

"You better get on that, Quinn. You want to be first in line to be accepted." Russell adds with a wink.

And as Rachel, Russell and Judy talk about their plans for New York, and how much the singer is looking forward to the
open auditions for Julliard, Quinn just sits back in her seat, fork toying with chicken and rice that no longer looks
appetizing, because she can't get excited about college, no matter how hard she tries.
Because she just can't afford it.
*Chapter 8*: Grey Skies
The thought of asking her mother and father for the money disturbs her to no end. As an Alpha, she's suppose to be the
leader of their small but honorary pact. But if she went to her parents with her tail tucked between her legs, literally, her
pride would be shattered into tiny insignificant pieces that could never be put back together.

It's a stupid ideal, but one she can't shake herself from. She's an Alpha. She's the leader of the pack, regardless of the
fact that she's only a teenager and her father is more of a leader than anyone else in their family. But she has the blood.
She's the leader. She's the Alpha.
She can't run to her parents and beg for their money. She can't beg for scraps.

So as she flips through her NYU booklet, the same one that had been posted to Rachel's door only the day before, she
lets out a dejected sigh. It looks stunning really and she knows she's enjoy herself there.

But as she looks up from the booklet and at her laptop, she sees that one bookmark that's haunted her for just over a day.
The tuition fees page for New York University. She crunches the numbers hourly; trying to figure out how to stretch her
money. She only has $2000 dollars remaining in her saving's account, and that would probably have to go on books and
the down payment on the apartment Rachel so desperately wants to rent.

And her heart just shatters all over again, so she shuts her NYU booklet, minimizes the page on her laptop, rests her
forehead softly on the edge of her desk and just shuts her eyes.

Rachel's still ecstatic about Julliard; she's already preparing her song for the open auditions; the same auditions that will
seal her fate in New York. She doesn't seem fazed, but then again, Rachel Berry never gets nervous, regardless of what
she's doing.
So as she chirps on and on about Julliard, Quinn just sits back and pretends to listen as she crunches the numbers once
more in her head.
Her scholarship went straight out of the window when she left the Cheerio's, even then, she didn't really want to do
cheerleading at NYU. She wanted to do something artistic, like photography or animation or something but not fucking
cheerleading.

Financial aid from the university itself might prove somewhat beneficial, but then again, they wouldn't cough up much. She
had $2000 and with the addition of some money she'd been saving up since giving away her college fund, she had an
addition $523.
$2523. It was no where near enough.

She plasters a smile on her face when Rachel sits down on her lap and wraps her arms around her neck. She isn't talking
about Julliard anymore. No, now she's talking about 'their' apartment and how they're going to decorate it. Rachel talks
about buying a cosy one bed roomed place and buying fancy wallpaper and leather couches and Quinn honestly think the
girl needs a reality check because seriously; what sort of student can afford leather couches?

But she just smiles and nods when Rachel asks her if the idea sounds 'lovely'. Then the smile fades when Rachel goes on
another one of her tirades, because those numbers are back, spinning and spiralling out of control.

And her wolf is going dizzy in the back of her mind, snapping angrily at those numbers that constantly annoy and never
leave.

"Fabray." Mike waves her over when she enters the Library. She was hoping for some form of solitude; away from Rachel
and the other members of Glee that are practically creaming their pants over college. Finn and Puck are talking about
OSU. Brittany and Santana are talking about UCLA. No one seems to shut up about it. She can't seem to get away from
the fucking talk about colleges and it's driving her up the bastard wall!

"Chang." But she sits beside her friend, because if she had to choose one person to talk to right now who actually makes
her feel better, it's Mike Chang.

"How's tricks?" He asks, glancing up momentarily from his PSP. He's going retro today, playing Metal Gear Solid: Acid.
It's one of Quinn's favorite games and she silently curses. She's dying to just immerse herself in a game and forget
everything around her. Even hunting doesn't seem to help anymore. As soon as she transforms, her wolf just tends to sit in
one place while her human side still wonders how she'll get to college.
Her wolf is impatient, she knows that much and deep down, she knows it's beginning to resent her. She's stressing herself
out, she isn't hunting when her wolf demands it and she's constantly exhausted from staying up all night researching
financial aids.

The growling in the back of her mind is a constant reminder; a warning. Her wolf is telling her to sort her shit out before it
spirals out of control. But no matter how hard she tries, the spiral just keeps going around in a vicious circle that refuses to
end.

"Had better days." Quinn grumbles, "Don't you have Home Ec right now?"
Mike just shrugs, "I don't really need to know how to bake a cake, Fabray." Then he adds with his trademark cheeky grin,
"Now sushi. I'd be done for that."
"Could you be anymore Asian?"

He pauses. His thumbs stop moving, but only for a fraction of a second before continuing, "I have no idea. I could try?"
"It was a rhetorical question."

"Sorry, I thought you were just being stereotypical." Another pause, "Blondie."
"Burn." She chuckles gently, for the first time in what seems like forever before slumping back in her seat, "You got
another one of them stashed away?"
Mike actually takes the time to pause his game and regards his friend, which is quite shocking to say the least. Mike
Chang pauses his game for no one. Not even Tina.
"You seriously want to geek out at school?"

"I'll do anything to get my mind off of college."

Mike frowns, "What's up with college? You were psyched to go a few months ago."

"Have you got another PSP, or what?"

He slides his own PSP over, eyes still locked on his friend as she picks it up and unpauses the game. He doesn't care
that she's playing his save, well, he's not worried because he knows that she's a competent player.

But he can feel the tension radiate off of her. He noticed she was closing herself off. While everyone else spoke about
college and what they were going to do in regards to classes, Quinn just sat quietly and seemed to stare into space.
He's worried for his friend but for now he'll just sit back and let her play; let her force all the tension out onto the PSP in her
clenched hands.

Her father slaps a twenty in her hand when she says she's going out. She just glances at it, there, crisp in the palm of her
hand and asks, "Can I have that in two tens?"
Russell jut raises an eyebrow and takes the twenty back before replacing it. She races back upstairs and slides one ten
into an old discarded shoe box she had stored under her bed before storming back downstairs and out the door with a
barely there goodbye to her parents.

She's at the Lima Bean, using that last remaining ten in her pocket on a small moderately priced coffee. Nothing special.
She usually goes for a Cappuccino, but the price of it compared to a regular coffee was just abysmally stupid, so she
decides on just a regular black.
It takes like crap, regardless of how many sugars she puts in it, but she just needs something to drink while she flicks
through the newspaper before her. She flicks and flicks and flicks until she gets to the page she wants.
And with a sip of her drink and an almighty grimace at the taste, she settles into her search.

Her job search.

"You have to understand that there's an art to this job." He says, adjusting his belt under his protruding stomach. He has
the speckle of powdered sugar just under his bottom lip and he hasn't seemed to notice it. She's dying to point it out to
him, but he seems to be a bit on an asshole, so she just stays silent. "A real art."
"Seriously?"

He nods. "You have to do everything in a certain order. It's like a well thought out football game. Everything is thought
through, nothing is left unattended to."

"It's just washing cars. It's not like I'm putting together a nuclear bomb."
Bruce O'Malley, owner of O'Malley Car Spritz just frowns, "I don't think you're right for this job."
"No, I don't think so either."

"F-F-F-Fabraaaaaaay."

She rolls her eyes and laughs, "Changster."

"Where you at? I was in the neighbourhood and called around but your parents said you'd gone out."

"Yeah I'm just" She sighs and looks back at the Hot Topic she'd just recently left. The job had sounded safe enough; till
operative. But she'd taken one step into the store, saw all the baby Goth gear, the pierced black clad shop employees
and bolted. She might not be a super uptight Christian anymore, but she can't shake the feeling that if she works there
she'll be condemning herself to hell. "Looking at an endangered species."

"You're at the Zoo?" He sounds completely confused and she just laughs, "What? Well, where are you anyway? I just got
the Kinect. I wanted to show you it."

"Why buy a Kinect when you have a PS3?"

"You have the 360, duh."

She sighs softly. The thought of just sitting at home playing on the 360 with her friend sounds heavenly compared to
trudging the streets for work. "Sorry Chang, I'm kinda busy today. Maybe tomorrow?"

"I'll hold you to that, Fabray."

"Catch you later."

"Laters."

Some day's, she just wishes she could tell Mike about her wolf.

The job search is fruitless, so she decides to leave it a week until new job openings appear in the paper. When she
comes in late from her busy day job searching, her parents ask where she's been. She takes one look at them and lies
straight through her teeth.
"Hunting."

Quinn Fabray, I have it on good authority that you were in Hot Topic this afternoon. Why were you in such a monstrosity
of a store?"
How do you even know these things?

I don't know if I've told you this, but I'm a little psychic.
Right. How did you know I was there?

Tina was there.

Where else would she be? Yeah, I was there, but only for a second.
Well, okay. Quinn, if you're having personal issues about your choice in music genre and taste, I'd be happy to sit and
listen. I don't particularly like what you called 'Grunge' but I'd be happy to partake if that's what you want.
You're adorable, you know that?
Whythank you, Quinn.
And bashful too.
I can be much more than adorable and bashful, Quinn Fabray.
Don't I know it.

I seem to remember saying certain things that were quite out of character for me a week ago.
Don't you dare
I have no idea what you're talking about.
You know exactly what I'm talking about and unless you want me to take you up against a wall at school tomorrow, you'll
shut your mouth.
I dare you.

Quinn smirks and her wolf howls with elation.

"I can'tI can't stopI can't get enough of you."

"OhGodfuckthis is so wrong!"
And it is, because being finger fucked from behind on an empty auditorium stage is completely and undeniably wrong.
Quinn holds her in a steel grip, right arm wrapped tightly around her waist while her left does sinful things between her
girlfriend's legs. It's hot and it's wet and those two fingers inside Rachel feel as if they've reached heaven.

Rachel grinds herself down on Quinn's fingers, one hand clutching Quinn's right while the other threads itself through
golden tendrils, holding Quinn in place as she pants heavily against the back of Rachel's neck; the feel alone of Rachel's
tight pussy around her fingers enough to drive her to the edge.
"Fuck mefuck me hardOh God, why did I agree to this?"

Quinn knows why they both can't control themselves. The pheromones and aphrodisiac she exudes makes it difficult for
Rachel to turn anything away, so when Quinn slides up behind her while Rachel is in the middle of practicing her scales,
the smell alone makes Rachel melt against her girlfriend and she even holds her panties to the side when Quinn fingers
slide up her thighs. She's completely at Quinn's mercy, and she fucking loves it. She loves being dominated, she loves the
violent urge that rips through the two of them as they fuck one another to within an inch of their already breaking sanity.
For Quinn, it's simple. Her wolf, no matter how sated it may be, still demands more. It still demands to feel and smell and
touch and pleasure Rachel. The feeling of Rachel's clenching pussy around her fingers and tongue feels like a drug to her
and her wolf. It's torturous but oh so delicious.

So as Rachel is driven crazy from the pheromones that fuck her body anyway, she has to deal with the strong thrust of two
fingers inside her and the hard palm of a hand against her clit, brushing and pressing in all the right places.

And then she's coming, screaming that high note that she remembers from Sectionals her Sophomore year. She's on
stage, belting that final note, but this time, Quinn Fabray's fingers are deep inside her.

And she loves every fucking second of it.

But then Quinn's chest is pressed against her beck and her nose is running softly up and down her neck. Smelling her
scent, breathing in, luxuriating in it. "Are you okay?"
Quinn squeezes her eyes shut and nods against her girlfriend's neck, "Yeah. I'm fine."

Nothing could be further from the truth.

At the park where it all began she can't help but be swept upon a stream of melancholia. This is where it all began. In this
little rundown park with it's much too small slide and seen better days swing. Rachel had first seen her as a wolf here, so
when she returns in that very same form, she can't help but be overcome with the memories. She watched Rachel cry
each and every night. She sat and made herself known to a human, knowing full well what the consequences were. She
allowed the singer to cuddle up to her and snuggle against her thick golden fur. She realized she was in love here.

She trots over to the swings, snuffing at the dirt as she does so. Rachel hasn't been for a while, but then again, why would
she have to? The star of Glee Club was over the moon with practically everything and she might as well puke rainbows
whenever she's around Quinn.
But now the tables have turned. When she's not at school, painting on the fake smile, she's job hunting and when she's not
job hunting, she's here. Sat in the park that is meaningless to anyone else that passes it.
And as she thinks about money for College, money for an apartment and just getting to New York, she's so unbelievably
overcome that her wolf cocks its head back, opens it's mouth and howls with such a deep agony that it brings tears to the
Alpha's eyes.
"Tell me what's wrong." She jumps up from her backpack and turns to face her father who stands by her bedroom door in
a silent vigil. It unnerves her, that even though she surpasses her father in both strength and agility, he still pops up like a
ghost.

"There's nothing the matter." She shrugs her shoulders in emphasis before leaning over her desk for her Chemistry book.
"I haven't been able to hear your thoughts for two weeks. Usually during this time your mind is crazy thinking about that
Regional's competition you go to." He pauses and shrugs his shoulders, "Or food."

"I just want to keep my thoughts to myself for a little while, dad." She zips her back up and holsters it on her shoulder as
she turns back to him, "It's nothing serious."

But the way his eyes narrow slightly and the way they drift up and down her body in silent contemplation tells her that he
doesn't believe her. In fact, he probably thinks she's talking crap just to push him away from the scent of his accusations.

But there's nothing he can do. He just nods his head and pats her gently on the shoulder as she passes him in the
doorway. "You can talk to me, you know."

She doesn't even look him in the eye as she walks away, "I know."

Mr. Schuester is babbling on about Regionals. Quite naturally, the competition is only two weeks away and they haven't
even settled on a set list. The group looks entirely too bored as the Glee Instructor writes names of potential artists up on
the whiteboard. It's all post modern and entirely too boring to win a Regionals competition.

Rachel is arguing, trying in vain to get her point across. Original songs were so last year, and honestly, the judges would
be expecting it from them. So they needed to find a song that would prove to the judges that they deserve to go back to
Nationals and win this time.
So as Rachel argues, Quinn sits beside her, eyes glued on a book. It's To Kill a Mockingbird, and deep inside she wishes
she could just read it, but stuffed between the pages is a folded up Jobs Weekly page and instead of her eyes skimming
the words that bring peace to her turbulent mind and send her on a journey, they're instead searching through potential
jobs with a good enough pay check.
Her girlfriend only glances at her from time to time, and usually it's just to make Quinn nod her head in agreement with
whatever Rachel said to Mr. Schuester, so she isn't too worried about getting caught.
But then the arguments have stopped and all the Glee Club are nodding and murmuring in agreement with one another
about what they should do. Once again, a duet and then a group number that would be settled the next day.
And as she stands to leave, her hand clasped to shut the book, her eyes land on an interesting ad.

"Hm."
"Baby?" Rachel questions over her shoulder with a smile.

"Coming."

It feels so good to run. As her paws thunder on the wet ground, it feels as if she's leaving all her troubles behind. Out here,
in her family forest, she doesn't have to worry about Glee Club or money or college or Rachel. Her mind is only ever
focused on her next step and where it's going to take her.

It's so utterly intoxicating that she wishes she never had to stop. She wishes she could just keep running and bottle up all
that pent up exhilaration just so she could uncap it and feel it once more. She dashes and avoids fallen logs, snuffs at
rabbit burrows and howls into the hollow caverns just for fun, she rolls around in the dirt and gets her usually pristine fur
matted and dirty.

It's like she's a kid again.

"Daddy. I'm not sure." Little eight year old Quinn Fabray glances up at her father who is already stripping off his shirt.
They're out in the middle of a dank forest on the outskirts of the town. It's safe, well, how safe one could be out in the
open air.
"What are you not sure about, Sunshine?" He crouches down beside her and plants a heavy hand on her tiny
shoulder, "Are you worried about transforming again?"
She just nods, tears welling up in her eyes. She still remembers the pain of when she first transformed when she turned
seven. She still remembers that searing heat the engulfed her entire body and the way her bones clicked and broke
and snapped into horrible positions. She remembers the fur. She wasn't suppose to have fur. She was seven years old,
she was suppose to wear pretty dresses.
She was a monster.
"I don' wanna be a monster, daddy."

Russell sighs gently. He had gone through the same thing with his eldest daughter. The conversation seemed to be on
repeat.
"Do you think daddy is a monster, Quinnie?"

Quinn stares up at him with wide eyes before shaking her head violently, hair whipping against her plump cheeks, "You
can't be a monster! You're my daddy!"
"And you're my little Quinnie." He pauses as the realization sinks in, "What's the difference?"

Little Quinn Fabray wrings her hands together in silent contemplation, before landing on the one answer that every
child gives their parents, "I 'unno."
"Don't know." He scolds lightly, "English, sweetie."

"Sorry, daddy."

Then he's standing up again and looking down at her with such blistering warmth in his eyes, "You'll never be a
monster, Quinn."
"I don' want you to be a monster either, daddy"

He grins, "I know baby, I know."

He coaches her and tells her and talks her through every aspect of transforming. By the end of it all, she feels as if her
head will explode with all the information. Actually, she just really wants to nap.
"Daddy, I'm tired. Can I have a nap?"

He wipes the sweat off his brow with a handkerchief and shakes his head lightly, "We're almost in the middle of the
forest, sweetie. It won't be long now."
Quinn sighs heavily and stomps her feet as she follows her commanding father. She's exhausted, she's hungry, she's
thirsty, she wants to have a nap, she wants to watch cartoons. She can't do any of that while she's out in the middle of a
forest!
"I wanna go home!"

Russell turns back to her and rolls his eyes, "Honey, I know you're tired, but just a little further." Then he pauses, taking
in the way that sweat drips down his baby daughter's forehead, the way her hair sticks to her cheeks and neck. She's
running on her last tether. This is exactly what he needed.
He needed to goad her into changing.
"Can I have a piggy back?" She asks with wide hopeful eyes.

"No."

She pouts, "Why not?"

"Because I won't have a weak daughter."

Her mouth opens and she stomps her foot in defiance, "I'm not weak!"
"You can't even walk into the middle of a forest, sweetie. What am I suppose to believe?"

"I'm not weak!" She even puffs out her little chest, "I'll keep going!" And she walks ahead, and she's only a few steps in
front when she realizes that her father isn't following her anymore. "Daddy?" She turns back and he's sat down on the
floor, legs stretched out, hands planted firmly behind him as he leans back.
"We're taking a rest. I don't want you collapsing, Quinnie."

"I won't!" She sputters, "I can! I can keep going!"

But Russell shakes his head, pushing back a tuft of blonde hair that had flopped down in front of his eyes, "I'm not too
sure, honey. Better safe than sorry."
"I can do it though!" She actually jumps up into the air and stomps both feet onto the solid ground. Hands are clenched
at her sides and she feels them shaking. She never wants to weak. She doesn't want to be the weakest link in the
family. She wants to be as strong as her sister. She wants be a strong as her mother. She wants to be as strong as her
father.
"Daddy, I can do it!"

"Sorry, Sunshine."

And she just explodes, because the overwhelming of knowing that even her father thinks she's too weak to continue
just rips her apart from the inside out.
"I'm not weak!" She shouts, vaguely hearing her own voice as an overbearing pain rips through her body. It engulfs her,
it swallows her whole and she feels as if she's spiralling into a pit of pain and desperation. She desperately tries to claw
her way back out, but she's already on the floor, scratching at the dirt.
She can't move. When she tries to extend her hand out to reach for her father, who simply sits there and watches with a
look of pure satisfaction on his face, she feels the bones in her arms snap, almost in tandem. She tries to scream out,
but the pain, too agonizing to bare won't even allow that simple merciful action.
So she lies there. And little eight year old Quinn Fabray feels a pain that no one should ever have the displeasure of
feelings while her father watches on with a smile on his face.
She wakes and the first thing she notices is that the sun is already beginning to set upon the forest. Russell is at her
side, fingering her hair, orwhat seems to be her hair. It'sall over.
She jumps up and only then just notices the fact she had four legs and collapses all over again into a heap on the
forest floor.
"Careful, Sunshine. You're not used to walking yet. Take your time, get your sea legs."

The urge to call out to him is overbearing, and she tries, but nothing works. He just stares at her as her small snout
opens and closes, only the light whimpering of her wolf escaping from her throat. It's terrifying. It wasn't a dream. She
truly was a wolf. That day a year ago wasn't a dream.
"You can't speak. Try and speak to me in your mind."

Quinn cocks her head.

"You know when you're at school and your trying to work out a really hard math problem?" He smiles when Quinn lets
out a huff through her nose. She never did like math. "You do it in your head right? Instead of thinking about a math
problem, try and talk to me. I'll be able to hear you."
It takes two hours for her to finally open her mind to her father's. It's tiring and unbelievably stressing, but when she
listens to her father speak without him opening his mouth, she jumps up with joy.
And collapses again.
He chuckles, "Sunshine, you're legs are still going to be rubbery. Slowly, try to walk okay? Then we'll go home."
She doesn't really want to get up again, because the floor was damn hard. But hesitantly, she pushes out her front paws
and on shaky back legs, pushes herself up off the floor. All four legs feel as if they want to buckle under her weight, but
she's only tiny, so tiny that from belly to floor, there's only eight inches between them.
"You'll grow with time." Russell comments as she looks down between her shaking front legs and realizing how small
she was. She may have been only eight, but she was a lot taller than that! "Trust me."
And she does. The trust she has in her father is one that could never be shaken and when he stands up and watches
her trot around the small clearing, paws hesitantly hitting the dirt as she walked, she knew he was proud.
And when he openly laughed, a large bellowing laugh that made her tiny tail wag in the air when she ran off into a dash
and rolled around in the dirt, she knew she wasn't weak.

"Quinn?"
The blonde glances quickly over to the passenger seat before returning to the road. She's driving Rachel home after
school. It's something Quinn all but demanded when Rachel officially became her mate. It's a protection barrier. It's a way
of Quinn knowing that her mate is safe.
Drivers these days were abysmal.

"Are you okay?" Rachel watches her openly, "I only ask because lately you've been a little closed off." Then she pauses,
"Is it the sex? Oh my, am I not giving you enough?"

Quinn chuckles, "Rach, babyyou're giving me enough. You're perfect," She glances at the singer in the corner of her eye
and smiles, "It's not the sex."
"Then may I ask why you're appearing so closed off? Is it what I said about Hot Topic? Honestly, I'm not bothered if you
want to listen to new genres of music."
Quinn bites down on her inner cheek, all but trying to keep the bellowing laugh from escaping. Even her wolf is howling
with laughter.
"It's not about Hot Topic, baby. I just have a lot of my mind, okay?"

"Can I know what that is?" Quinn remains silent, "As your mate, I expressly demand you tell me what you're thinking
about."

Quinn pulls up outside Rachel's house and looks to her, "You're using your status as my mate against me?"
And the singer beams, pearly white teeth gleaming in the afternoon sun, "I am."

And it's a good argument, but the thought of telling Rachel what the problem is, was entirely too mortifying to think about.
How would she feel if she knew that she was broke, penniless, skint?

She was suppose to be the strong one in the relationship. She was suppose to be the one that had the money to spend
on her mate, spend money re-decorating their apartment in New York. She was suppose to have the money to take that
journey with her. She was suppose to be by Rachel's side; standing by her through each and ever trial and tribulation they
both went through.

She was to be front row and centre when Rachel made her debut on Broadway.
"I'll tell you eventually. Right now, I just want to deal with it on my own."

Rachel seems less than impressed, so Quinn does the only thing she can do to sate her girlfriend. She leans forward,
pulls down her sweater at the neck ever so slightly and brushes her lips over the faded mark on the collarbone.

"I love you," She whispers against the tan flesh, pressing a kiss in silent promise.
She feels the tension almost melt from Rachel's body and when she whispers, "I love you too." In return, she shuts her
eyes with relief.

"Where have you been?"

"Shit!" Quinn jumps as she enters her bedroom, hands clasped to her heart as her eyes land on Mike Chang. The Kinect
is hooked up to her 360 and the game is sat on the pause screen as he looks up at her. "Chang, you ass."

"Seriously, where have you been? I told you I was coming around after school."
"I was just busywith Rachel."

"Ohgirl loving" He shakes his head, "Don't wanna know. But seriously, it's eight pm."
"I know." She sighs, dropping tiredly onto her bed. It's so unbelievably comfortable that she could just fall asleep now
without a care in the world. But Mike is looking down at her with narrowed eyes, "What?"
"Seriously. What have you been doing?" He sniffs the air, "You smell funny."

She bites down on the corner of her bottom lip, "Post sweat due to sex." Then she beams when Mike rears back, "Wanna
smell?"

"EW! NO!"

Mike leaves an hour later after trying out the Kinect with her. She plays it half-heartedly, because she's that exhausted, but
he doesn't seem to care. He's beating her at every single game they play, so he could hardly care less. Winning added to
the gloating fund. And how Quinn hated it when he gloated.

She watches him drive away and only shuts the door behind her when his taillights fade into the distance. Wearily, she
climbs up the stairs after saying a soft goodbye to both her parents and collapses onto her bed.

She's about to roll over to get into a more comfortable position when she sees it. There, right beside her 360. A small wad
of cash. She grabs her phone instantly.

Chang?
I had a hunch and I guess my hunch paid off. Use it wisely, Fabray.
And so she cries herself to sleep, because the one thing she desperately tried to avoid happened without her even
knowing it. And as an Alpha, the leader of her pack, her pride is ripped straight from her and she feels just like a tiny
insignificant wolf.
And all for $52.

She knows that Quinn is pulling away and each and every day she looks more exhausted. Her eyes are drawn, she looks
visibly pale and each and every time she sits down in Glee Club for their daily annual meeting, she looks as if she'll fall
asleep in her chair.
But Rachel can't ask what's wrong, because the answer is always the same. Quinn just looks at her, puts on a small smile
and says, "It's fine."
But it isn't.

"Mr. Fabray."
"Russell," The head of the household smiles, "What can I do for you, Rachel? Quinn's out, I'm afraid."

"I was hoping if you knew what was wrong with her, actually. She's coming to school increasingly withdrawn and tired."
Russell frowns, "Well, she's always out hunting. I assume she's overdoing it. I'll speak to her about it."

"Is hunting suppose to exhaust someone that much?"

His arms cross over his chest as he contemplates. Quinn had been coming home increasingly late as the week went on.
She always looked exhausted and haggard. He questioned it of course, what father wouldn't? But the answer was always
the same.

"I'm fine."
But she isn't.

"Michael, you're Quinn's friend, are you not?"

Mike sits back into his chair, almost as if he's trying to melt into the cheap plastic as Rachel Berry stands before him,
hands planted firmly on her hips, a secret mission flaming in her eyes.
"Iyeah, why?"

"Do you know why she looks so tired?"

"I reallywouldn't know, Rachel. I know she's my friend and everything, but we don't really talk about personal things that
much."
Rachel sighs, hands sliding from off her hips.

"She won't tell me what's wrong. I'm worried."

Mike smiles sadly, "Maybe she just wants to deal with whatever it is by herself."

And it clicks, because Quinn is an Alpha and all she does is talk about how she's suppose to be the leader. She's full of
pride and she believes that she's strong enough to deal with anything that anyone throws at her.

Something has gone wrong and down the line, Quinn has found it hard to deal with.
She needs to know.

"What is it with people being in my room when I get home?" Quinn chuckles weakly, kicking her bedroom door shut
behind her. "Not that I'm complaining."
Rachel watches as her girlfriend crosses the room, pulling out her long blonde hair from a sloppy ponytail before pulling off
her shirt. She doesn't look dirty, which she always did after a big hunt. She only looked sweaty, not obnoxiously, but
enough for it to raise an eyebrow.

"Where have you been?"

Quinn looks at her over her shoulder, "Hunting. Why?"
Rachel glances down to her lap, wringing her hands together softly, "Why are you lying to me?"
It's the wrong thing to say, she realizes as soon as it comes out of her mouth. Questioning an Alpha's motives was not the
right way to go about things. And although Quinn was just Quinn, Rachel knew that she was an Alpha first and foremost.
Her heritage was a huge deal; something that always hung over their relationship.

And as Quinn's mate, she isn't suppose to ask questions like that. She's suppose to nod her head and go along with
whatever she says. But she can't. Not when it looks like Quinn is destroying herself.

"I'm not lying."

She seems oddly calm and Rachel's head snaps up. Quinn just looks exhausted, slumped against her desk, still topless.
And it hits her. That smell. The sweat. Quinn's pheromones.
Rachel clenches her fists in her lap and shakes her head, "Quinn. Something's wrong and I know it."

But Quinn doesn't want to talk about it. She doesn't want to admit something so unbelievably shameful to her mate. She
just wants to add that little slip of paper in her back pocket to the shoe box under her bed and go straight to sleep.

But Rachel needs to talk. Quinn needs to elevate her fears. She watches as Rachel struggles for breath and she knows
instantly what's wrong. Without even moving her head, she can smell herself, which means that Rachel can. Rachel can
smell the natural pheromones. She can smell the scent that drives her insane with want.
"How can I make you feel better about it?" Quinn asks, huskily, softly.

Rachel's eyes snap up to land on hazel, watching intently as they flicker from hazel to gold and back again, "Please"
She begs, but Quinn's already pushing her down onto the bed.

It's not the way to deal with things.

But as Rachel digs her nails into her back, she feels revitalized. And when she hears her moan into her ear, softly begging
for more, she can't stop herself. Rachel is soaked, hips moving in tandem with each and every one of Quinn's strong
strokes. She whines and moans and tells Quinn that she loves her.

And when she brings her girlfriend over the edge, pussy tensing in a vice like grip around two fingers and those nails
digging harder into her back, she knows it definitely isn't the way to deal with things.

But she can't bring herself to care.

It's disgusting. It's horrifying. It's disturbing. It's upsetting. It's soul crippling. It makes her feel as if her pride no longer exists.
It makes her feel as if she's as worthless as a speck of dirt. It makes her feel as if kissing Jacob Ben Israel would be a
better compromise. It angers her because she hates what she's doing. It pisses her right off because she knows she
shouldn't be here.

She knows she shouldn't be here, conversing with these moronic idiots that can't even hold a proper conversation. She
knows she should be at home or with Rachel. She knows she should be looking at that NYU booklet and filling out her
application. She knows she should be worrying about Regional's which is only two days away. She knows she should be
worrying about the music and the lyrics and the dance moves.
But instead, she's stood here, fake smile plastered on her face as the next customer comes up to the till.

"Welcome to McDonalds. What can I get you today?"

Quinn is dead on her feet. Rachel doesn't have the duet for Regional's this year, that privilege went to Santana and Puck.
Their voices meld well together and as Rachel watches them on the sidelines, she can't help but feel a sense of pride.
Everyone had come to far since Sophomore year and honestly, Rachel didn't mind giving up one half of a solo that she
most definitely could have had.
The whole Club had been working themselves to the bone for this year. Their final year. This was the last time they'd go to
Sectionals and Regional's and Nationals. They had to give it their all and go out with an almighty bang.
They finally had to show Vocal Adrenaline that fake plastic smiles and over the top dance routines doesn't guarantee a
win. It's all about heart.
So as their cue comes up to go on for the group number, Rachel looks to Quinn who is no longer beside her, but slumped
on the floor, chin to her chest. Sleeping.
"No. No. Not now, Quinn Fabray, you wake the hell up!"
Quinn wakes up when they announce the winner of the 2012 Regional's Competition.
New Directions win, even though they're missing a member. And as she stands up, watching them from the sidelines as
they grab their trophy and hold it above their heads, she can't help but feel distraught.
She missed Regional's.

She missed winning Regional's.

As the New Directions leave the stage, they smile at her softly, but she can't mistake the look in their eyes. 'Sorry we
couldn't wake you up.' 'Sorry you're so lazy.' 'We won, anyways.'

"Rachel."

They're sat side by side on the bus back home and Rachel hasn't even looked in her directions or spoken to her. It would
usually have her worried beyond belief, but the fact that her mate can't even look at her, just makes her feel as if she's
being ripped to shreds.
She's been laying herself bare, working straight after school into the late nights just to make ends meet. She's been
putting her pride on the line, the only thing keeping it intact being those pay checks she gets. Thank God for weekly pay.
"I'm sorry, Rachel."

But Rachel just continues to stare out of the window and she can't help but feel invisible.

She pulls out her pay checks from underneath her bed that night. She sits down, box open beside her and one by one, she
pulls those flimsy pieces of paper out. She settles them down gently in front of her, side by side, in one neat row and she
calculates each and every one of them together on her phone.

Counting overtime, which she did every night, the total was $512.
She stares at the pay checks, phone slipping from her hand and she just sobs.

Working one job just isn't enough for her. The pay checks, while good for someone her age, isn't necessarily enough for
her to get into college. She rings NYU to ask about financial aid and they tell her that they can give her a couple thousand
dollars, but only if she lives on campus. Which is a no-no.
"Fuck." She throws her iPhone onto the bed and huffs when it almost goes through the newspaper laid open upon it. She'd
been looking at getting a second job, seen as though one wasn't giving her enough. So far, nothing had come up that
offered the right amount of money and or hours that worked around the ones at McDonalds as well as school.

But then again, if she got a second job, wouldn't it just put more stress on her relationship with Rachel? They hardly see
each other as it is, thanks to Quinn's one job and when she's free from work she's either sleeping or hunting. What would a
second job do to them both?
With a sigh, she picks up the paper and begins to sift through the last remaining job ads before sleep. She'd just gotten
back from work and she was exhausted; all she wanted to do was shower that nasty ass grease off her body and collapse
into her warm comfortable bed. Of course, she'd prefer it if her mate was there for her to hold, but she couldn't have
everything.
It's only when she gets to the second to last job ad do her eyes stop. She reads and re-reads then re-reads again. It
sounds simple enough. And the money, Jesus Christ.
But the name. Oh God, why did it have to be that name?

"I find this both hilarious andoh who am I kidding? It's just hilarious that you would come to me for a job."
Quinn fights back the urge to rolls her eyes and settles herself into the couch. It's comfortable as hell, but the tension in the
air just sets her right on edge. She wants to leave, desperately. Why had she bothered to come? She knew she'd have
been ridiculed. But why did the pay have to be mouth wateringly brilliant.
"Then again, I suppose that's what you get."

She had to do this. She had to suffer this ridicule and keep her pride intact with those pay checks. Those pay checks that
solidified her future in New York. With Rachel. She needed to do this. And no matter what she had to go through, she
would do it.
"I need this job."
"Even though it pains me to say yes, I honestly find the thought of you scrubbing all those trophies you helped the
Cheerio's win to be delicious." A pause, "You have a deal, Q."

Why oh why did it have to be Sue Sylvester?

Quinn doesn't drive her to school anymore, while not a bother, because she has her own car, she feels as if the blonde is
pulling away. It's not suppose to be like that, right? Of course, she's talked to Cybil Noble about Quinn distancing herself
and being overly tired, but even the old woman that's almost like an encyclopedia of knowledge had no light to shed on the
problem.
She just assumed Quinn was overworking herself with training and left it at that. But it was interesting enough when Rachel
had showed the old woman her mark. Cybil had been so overjoyed she'd have jumped around the room if she could. She
asked every question under the sun; when did it happen, how did it happen, do you still feel independent although you're
marked to Quinn? Some information she wasn't willing to divulge, naturally, because the woman has already seen her
come on her couch, but she doesn't really want to tell her how she all but begged the blonde to fuck her until she passed
out.
But still, she wasn't any closer to finding out why Quinn was pulling away. Apparently a wolf was suppose to be almost
unbearably close to their mate a few months after the fact. Mostly just to solidify the pact they both made, but also for
protection. But Quinn hadn't been doing that. Were Alpha's different in that respect?

She only sees Quinn from time to time at school, and of course, they sit side by side in Glee Club. The whole of New
Directions had gotten over the fact that she'd practically slept through the whole competition, and so had Rachel. Yeah,
she was beyond miffed, who wouldn't be when your girlfriend falls asleep during a competition that means the world to
you? But she got over it, just like the rest of the club, because they know that Quinn is exhausted, they just don't know why.

"Hey." Quinn greets as she sits down beside Rachel, planting a soft kiss to her cheek.
"Hey back," And she takes Quinn's hand, just so she knows that Quinn is really there. It's a comfort thing that she's just not
willing to stop right now. With Quinn or her wolf hardly ever being there, she always feels the need to be touchy feely when
she finally is there. But it doesn't seem to bother Quinn. "Your hands are rough."

And they are. The top of her palm, just where it meets her fingers is rough to the touch. Almost calloused.
"It's what you get when you run on your hands, babe." Quinn chuckles softly, trying to throw a joke into the mix. But Rachel
isn't buying it. She's seen Quinn's hands after she's gone for a run, or to hunt and they look or feel nothing like they do now.
They're softer, somehow, when she's been hunting.

So even though Quinn laughs and jokes with her about it, she can't wipe the scowl off of her face.
Something is wrong.

I kno sumthin u don't kno.

Rachel stares at the texts and tries to pinpoint the number. She doesn't have it stored in her phone and the lack of spelling
and grammar pisses her right off. Would it kill people to not use text speak and to use proper English whilst texting?
Would it honestly hurt to text a few extra letters?

You may know something I don't know, but I know how to type in better English than you. So I guess we're even.
Being with Quinn really proved how sarcastic she was.

I guess I wont tell u wat quinn has been getting up 2 thn.

And she blanches, the next sarcastic remote dying on the tip of her tongue. What Quinn has been getting up to? No. No
she wouldn't let her mind drift to that. Quinn wouldn't cheat, not on her mate; it wasn't in her nature. So she does the only
thing she can do.

If it was serious, Quinn would have told me what was wrong. I trust her.
So she dint tell u tht shes working 2 jobs 2 make ends meet?
What?

You have no proof.

3 football players n coach Sylvester are proof enuf.
"Finn, you partake in McDonalds, correct?"
He stares at his ex-girlfriend as she storms up to him at his locker. Quinn is nowhere to be found, which is oddly terrifying,
because the blonde is always latched to Rachel's side. He glances around, hoping that she isn't hiding somewhere to
attack him. They haven't been on good terms since Rachel begun dating Quinn and he doesn't really want to get on her
bad side.
Scary Quinn.

"Uh. Sometimes, yeah."

"Perhaps we could go together after school?"

"Uh" He leans down, a lot, to reach her eyelevel, "Is this like, a date or something? Cos I don't really wanna have Quinn
busting my ass for taking you out."

Rachel's jaw drops, "Finn Hudson! I wouldn't cheat on my girlfriend and the fact that you're insinuating such a thing makes
me wonder how much you truly know me!" Then she huffs and plants her hands on her hips, "Would you like to go to
McDonalds after school or not?"
"I don't have any moneyI used all of it on new games and beer."
"Fine. If I pay for your murderous meal will you go with me?"
"You mean, you'll buy me a Big Mac and not glare at me while I eat it?"

Rachel sighs, "Yes, Finn."

"Awesome!"

"Remind me why you're wearing a wig again?"

They're sat at McDonalds, right at the back, the furthest away from the counter that they can get. Finn's already put his
order in with a rather stumpy looking teenage boy behind the counter and was just waiting for it to be served. Rachel,
however, was sat incognito against the windowed wall, sunglasses on and a maroon wig over her brown locks.

She felt like a damn spy.

"Just so no one recognizes me, Finn."

"What, like the Vegan Nazi's? Will they attack you if they see you in a burger joint?"
The fact that he sounds so utterly serious, renders her speechless. Eventually she manages to get her words back.

"You said two offensive things right then."

"Oh! Crap, sorry, I forgot you were Jewish."

"Oh, Finn" She rolls her eyes and props her chin up with the palm of her hand, "Nevermind." Eventually, his meal gets
called and he dives into it with gusto. She's disgusted beyond believe, watching him dunk his monstrosity of a burger into
a pool of tomato ketchup. She honestly can't see why anyone would want to put that crap in their mouths. And McDonalds
especially. It's full of fat and processed meat and

She shudders as she watches him take a large bite and stuff a couple fries in his mouth. So she does the only thing that'll
keep her from bolting out the restaurant, she looked away and stared at the counter.

Nothing. Only the same guy that took Finn's order and some other guy with a headset on.
"Why are we here again?"

"I just need to know if someone I know works here."

"Like who?" He asks, mumbling around mashed up potatoes and beef.
"Just someone."

Finn has finished his meal and two McFlurry's, all that's she's paid for when she decides to give up. The texts were a hoax.
Quinn most definitely did not work at McDonalds. She'd spent two hours (two hours that she'd never get back) sat in a
disgusting greasy resturaunt just to watch her ex-boyfriend demolish a large meal and two ice creams.
"Can we go now? I kinda need to nap all of this off."

With a sigh, she stands, and it's only when she makes sure to pick up the tray Finn left on their table, because she doesn't
like leaving a mess behind, even if the resturaunt chain are mass murderers of cows, does she see a flash of blonde hair
behind the counter.

And there, stood behind the till, serving a rather obese looking woman and her kids, is Quinn Fabray. Her Quinn Fabray.
She leaves before she's seen.

Why is she working at McDonalds?

Told u. 2 get money. Duh.
But why? What does she need the money for?
Why the hell shud I kno? Ask her urself.

She doesn't ask Quinn.

Quinn looks positively ragged when she walks into the after school Glee meeting that very next day. She slumps into the
empty seat beside Rachel and doesn't even offer a greeting or a kiss. There's nothing. She's just sat there, slumped, chin
to chest.

"Quinn?"
"Hm?" The blonde mumbles, not really opening her mouth.

"You'd tell me if something was wrong, right?"

And her girlfriend looks at her, and only then does she notice those heavy bags under her eyes, and those beautiful hazel
eyes that she fell in love with. Those hazel eyes that no longer held the shine they used to and she just hurts.

"Of course."

But it hurts more to be lied to.

It's like entering the lion's den. For some reason she feels as if she's sealing her fate and almost giving herself to a hungry
lion. A hungry lion that prowls the corridors and takes up home in a small office close to the gymnasium. A hungry lion that
loves to wear tracksuits, every damn day of the week.

"Coach Sylvester?"

She waits outside the house, at the exact time, at the exact spot, just like she was told. She'll be ten minutes late for
school, but she can hardly bring herself to care. She's already been sat in her car for 30 minutes outside a seemingly
boring building, and almost knowing that Quinn was inside, was enough for her to forget about the fact her attendance
record will be ruined.
But it's nearing 8:30 and Quinn still hasn't left the house. But Coach Sylvester does, holding a blended protein shake and
twirling one of her whistles in her free hand. She looks entirely all too smug, so much so that it pisses her off. How can she
be so smug while Quinn Fabray cleans her apartment from top to bottom on the edge of exhaustion?

"Coach Sylvester?"

"Berry. Why are you in my office?"

"I was wondering if I could talk to you for just a few minutes."

"You just spoke to me, now leave."

"Please. It's about Quinn."

"And why should my suddenly lesbian ex-cheerio be any of your concern or mine for that matter?"

"Well, as you've probably heard, she and I are dating. But recently, she's been incredibly withdrawn and tired. I heard
on the grapevine that she may be working for you."
"Hm."

"I was just wondering if it was true?"

"My previous Mexican maid left after her visa expired, so naturally I was looking for a new maid. Quinn was the first one
to come to me. She seemed less than impressed."
"So why did she take it?"

"She told me she needed the money." Coach Sue Sylvester pushes her glasses back up her nose and peers down at
her journal once more, "Now please leave. I don't want to catch Jewish Smurf Syndrome."

Quinn follows Coach out of the house only five minutes later and even locks the door behind her. She looks dead on her
feet and she almost seems to drag herself over to her car.
And something inside Rachel breaks, because Quinn is working herself to death for money.

But for what?

"Hobbit."

Rachel sighs heavily and replaces her Math book in her locker for her English Lit, "Santana."
"Find out what was wrong with Q, then?" She's leaning against the opposite beside Rachel's, looking calm, but with a hint
of smugness. Rachel wishes she had the strength or the power to just smack Santana in the jaw butwait, what?
"How do you know that?"

"I might not want to text in proper English, Berry, but I'm smart enough to know what goes on at this school. With
everyone."

Not everything. She doesn't know Quinn's a werewolf. Thank God.

"You were the one texting me" Rachel slams her locker shut and leans against it, "Why is she working so hard though? I
don't understand why she needs the money."
"You're going to Julliard, right?"

She suddenly feels the need to be overbearingly smug, but she reigns it back, "Yes, of course. Why?"
"And Q's going to NYU?"

"Yes. Why?"
"Are you sure about that?"

"Well yes, of course. We've already planned to go to both colleges."

"Does she have the money to go, though?"

"Well of-," And pauses and her mind fleets back to that one text she received all those months ago. $15,000 dollars was
suddenly donated to Michael Hunter to pay off the medical bills that he couldn't. $15,000 that Quinn had told her was from
her college fund. "Oh my God."
And Santana just walks away.

Quinn pulls her into the empty choir room just before lunch and pins her against the whiteboard. Before she even has the
chance to ask what's wrong, Quinn's lips are against hers, kissing and sucking and licking and biting and holy mother
fucking God it feels so good.
It's been so long since Quinn just made out with her for the hell of it, or wanted to be close to her. So she revels in it. She
wraps her arms tightly around Quinn's neck and pulls her in, holding her lips at bay, flicking her tongue back against her
girlfriend's.
Quinn's body feels as if it's on fire and the warmth she exudes just makes Rachel want to melt into her touch. She can
smell, almost taste the pheromones that Quinn naturally gives off when they're together, and she so desperately wants to
get swept up into the haze of sex and lust and pure need.

But she can't.

She digs her nails into the back of Quinn's neck, feeling her tense and moan against swollen lips. She didn't want that
effect, no, she didn't need that effect to happen, not with those pheromones that wreck havoc on her senses.
"Quinn," She rips her lips away, panting for breath as Quinn attacks her neck and shoulder blade. She brushes over her
mark tenderly with the brush of her lips before she feels the hot white pressure of teeth biting back down again. It's painful,
but so damn pleasurable and she feels as if she's on the precipice of coming. She's being fucked by Quinn's mouth and
her pheromones. It's a delicious agony. "Quinn stop!"

And instantly, the blonde stiffens and pulls back, eyes wide and gold, lips parted for air.
"What? What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

"Nono baby, you didn't." She cups Quinn's face in her shaking hands, trying to fight off the urge to come as she leans in
and kisses her softly, "I justwe need to talk, okay?"

"About?" Quinn asks, genuinely confused, chest still panting with unhinged arousal.
"About the fact you can't afford college..."
*Chapter 9*: Daybreak
The silence is almost deafening. How can two people go between kissing; feel that ultimate urge that ripples between
them, to being coldly silent with one another? Rachel's mind spins with questions that beg to be asked, while Quinn's is
oddly quiet; sedate, calm, unthinking.

And then everything blows up.

It was only a matter of time until Rachel found out. Who had told her? Mike? No. He'd never betray her trust. But if he
had? No. Had she been that obvious? Well, of course, the exhaustion could be seen from across a crowded room; how
could Rachel, her mate, the only one who knows her inside and out, not notice?

Rachel Berry always knew what was going on and if it was to do with Quinn, she always seemed to just know. How could
she keep something from her? They were mated, bonded; they had that invisible tether that only they could feel and see.
Keeping something from Rachel Berry was practically impossible; she always found out sooner or later.
"What are you talking about?" She asks, simply because it's a safe reply. She's not angry, but she's not happy either. She
can't get angry; her wolf can't get angry. Although her control is better, she's not strong enough to pull back a wolf with a
wounded pride.

"Don't lie Quinn, it's very unbecoming. Why don't we just save ourselves the hassle and just be truthful?"
Quinn's eyes narrow, almost as a reflex, before she has the chance to stop them. She so wants to talk this out, calmly and
without confrontation, but her wolf, it growls dangerously. A warning.
"It'd help if I knew what you were talking about."

Her wolf begins to assert itself over her psyche. Her human side wishes to talk it through, but that's all it is; a wish, a futile
pointless wish that won't come true no matter how hard she tries. Her human side, her logical side, is slowly evaporating.
Like water into gas. It's going, it's just a matter of time until it all disappears into nothingness.
"Quinn," Rachel sighs, almost tiredly, her hand moving up to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. She's as calm as can
be, although hurt, deep down inside, locked and sealed away. She's hurt from the lying, the espionage, but especially with
the fact that she had been sat there, day in, day out, talking about college and their apartment. She knew she had the
money for college, having two rich daddies helped, and a scholarship on top of that gave her a free ride. She didn't take
the time to sit and wonder if Quinn had the money. Even if she hadn't given the money towards Michael Hunter's medical
bills, she only had $17,000 right? That wasn't even enough for one term "Explain to me how you were planning on going
to New York with only the money for one term?"

"I" Her voice cracks. It actually cracks. What would she say? She could say her girlfriend, her mate, is delusional, but
what would that solve? Rachel knew how much money she had; It'd come from her own mouth, she couldn't exactly turn
around and out rightly deny what she'd said all along. How would that make her feel? One of the main things that built the
very foundation their trust was built on, was just a lie? So she takes the time to clear her throat and says, "I don't know
what you're talking about."
Her wolf howls at the protection of it's proud, but winces soon after; the realization that yet again, it's mate is being lied to.
To protect itself it lies, but hurts it's very own mate in retaliation. A vicious circle. It's not suppose to happen. She's meant
to protect, not hurt.

Rachel feels the lie. It seems to seep into her skin, it sticks, just like a bad smell. It hurts, it unbelievably hurts; she really
gave herself to a compulsive liar? A woman and a wolf. Two different beings that she thought she knew.

"You do." She pauses, but only for a few seconds, just enough time for the two simple words to sink in. "You do know what
I'm talking about. You told me yourself that you gave $15,000 to Michael and that you had $2000 left over." Just talking
about Michael still makes her sick to her stomach. "That means you only had $17,000. That won't even pay for one term at
NYU. What were you expecting to do?"

She didn't mean for her words to become heated, but the sheer thought of Quinn trying to get to NYU with only $17,000
and then renting an apartment too, just completely dumbfounds her. It's utter madness.

"I mean, I thought the $17,000 was for rent and books and supplies butthat was all the money you had to go to New York
with?"
"I wasn't planning to go to New York before you found out I was a wolf, Rachel." She sounds so utterly tired, and all she can
do is rub her eyes, fighting off the sting; the pain of exhaustion. "My parents didn't save as much because they thought I'd
get a scholarship through the Cheerio's and with that, I was only planning to go to OSU."

Rachel shakes her head softly, in disbelief, "Then why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me you didn't have enough
money for NYU or New York for that matter?"

"I'll find a way to New York."

"Oh Quinn" She whimpers, because the hurt cuts her that deep. From the very beginning she knew. She'd known but
she'd refused to see the bigger picture. Quinn knew she didn't have the right amount as soon as they got closer. She just
refused to acknowledge it; she just kept pushing the thought away until it became an insignificant memory. And it worked.
My God, did it work.

"You shouldn't worry," Quinn fleetingly says with the flick of her left hand, "I'm working for the money. I'll have it."
But there's something Quinn's eyes that tell Rachel different. It might be the exhaustion that clouds those usually bright
hazel eyes, but for the first time in years, Quinn Fabray is no longer an enigma because Rachel Berry can see straight
through her.

"No you won't. Do you really think working for both Sue Sylvester and McDonald's is going to get you to New York?"

Quinn hesitates and shifts from foot to foot, brow knitted in what seems to be contemplation. But it's only seconds before
Quinn gives her reply. A resounding, "Yes." Filled with fake assurance.
"You'll die of exhaustion before you even get to New York." And she will, because it's just shy of a month and Quinn
already looks dead on her feet. And Rachel knows that Quinn needs more rest and more downtime than anyone else,
simply because her wolf saps that much energy just being contained inside.

"An Alpha usually eats twice as much than a normal wolf, it's common practice."

"Are you even eating normally? You know you need to eat." Rachel steps forward, slowly, hesitantly, "You're killing yourself
to reach an unreachable goal, Quinn." She's only inches away, fingertips almost touching a pale white forearm, "Let me
help you."

Wrong move.
Quinn's body freezes instantly and within the blink of an eye she's closing off, backing away, defences rising and gloves
officially coming off.

And Rachel doesn't know why.

"I don't need your help, Rachel. I can do this on my own. I can get the money on my own. I can deal with this on my own."

But she can't. My God, she can't. She's so utterly exhausted, her nerves are frayed and all she wants to do is curl up in a
ball and just weep. But that's her human side. Her wolf side just drives her to keep going; to keep working and never stop
until she has what she needs. It's a 50/50 struggle; a battle with no end in sight. Her wolf refuses to see or feel the
exhaustion that's engulfing it's human form, because it's not natural; it's not an Alpha's way.
"All you do is lie to me" Rachel whispers, voice shaking with barely contained emotion, "Is this what I have to endure to
be with you, Quinn? Because all you're doing is pushing me away. Push me too far and I won't come back."
It's an empty threat, but a threat nonetheless. The Alpha feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand on edge and almost
as if she can see into her own mind, her wolf stands there, body primed, every muscle tense, teeth bared. It doesn't want
to attack. No, far from it. It's just filled with an uncontrollable heated rage at the thought of Rachel walking away.

But she won't. They're mates. They're bonded.

"You won't walk away. I marked you, remember?" She doesn't mean to sound smug, but the tone seeps through with every
passing word. So by the end of it, she sounds just like that cold, vindictive bitch from Freshman year. She's the old Quinn
Fabray that she promised never to be again.

At least, not to Rachel.

"You may have marked me, Quinn, but I still have my own free will." She'll still have the mark, that permanent mark that'll
mar her skin for the rest of her life. And her next partner will look at it when they first make love and ask why she has it.
She'll make up some elaborate lie and when they finally do make love to her, that urge to feel Quinn above her, fingers and
tongue inside her, will become too much to bare. She'll fake it, or come from imagining her former mate. She'll plaster on
a smile when she gets married, wishing it was Quinn's finger she was sliding that ring onto. She'll have children and
always wonder if they'd have had hazel or brown eyes. She'll grow old and she'll die, still reliving that feeling of teeth
digging into her skin, marking her, loving her.
And she'd do it.

"I deserve better than the lies. I may not be as strong as you but I'm still a part of this relationship. I still deserved to be
treated as an equal. I may only be a human, Quinn, but so are you."

"What's your point?"

"My point is, you may be an Alpha, but you're still a woman. You're still human. You need to turn to people for help, it's what
we do."
"It's not what I do." Quinn replies bluntly. It's the truth. Alpha's never ask for help, they always deal with their own problems,
on their own. An Alpha, although the leader of it's pack, is naturally a loner. A lone wolf. How apt a saying. Asking or
requesting for help is the ultimate disgrace, aside from losing in a fight. She should be strong enough to deal with her own
problems and protect her pack. If she asked for help, what kind of leader would that make her? A weak one. "It's a sign of
weakness."
Rachel stares, eyes wide, mouth agape and even looking like a complete zombie, she was beautiful. Her hair shines
under the bright harshness of the choir room lights, her entirely too small skirt and argyle sweater fits her body to a tee;
melted to every curve and screamed perfection. Quinn, on the other hand, wore ratty jeans and a hoodie. Her hair no
longer shone but fell limply against her face. Her usually pale skin felt chalky and pasty against her. She was an unknown.
Even to herself.

But then Rachel laughs, and both Quinn and her wolf see red.
"Are you kidding me right now?" Then the laughter stops and Rachel sobers instantly. Quinn just waits, silently, because
she knows her girlfriend is going to pull out all the stops with a Rachel Berry Ramble. "If you honestly think that asking
people for help is a bad thing you truly need to re-evaluate. It's a fact of life. Even the strongest of people need others to
rely on, and that includes you. Asking for help isn't a sign of weakness, it's a sign of strength. You may think you're strong
for denying a need we were all born with, but it makes you weak. People are there to be relied upon. People are there for
you to ask them for help. People are there to stand by you."
Silence envelops the two teenage girls. Quinn looks to the floor, unable to look in those beautiful brown eyes that shine
with a pride and strength that far amasses her own. And Rachel, Rachel just watches, eyes wounded and shining with
unshed tears.

"Tell me" She whispers, barely controlling the trembling of her lower lip, "Do you think I'm weak?"
And Quinn can only whisper back, "Of course not."

"But I rely on people. I rely on you, my father, the Glee Club. Am I weak because my parents are giving me the money for
New York? Am I weak for relying on Puck or Artie or Tina for their voices during a number? Am I weak for relying on you to
keep me strong and hold me whenever I think about Leroy? Am I weak for crying in your arms, dependant on you to keep
me going?"

And Quinn can only swallow back the sudden blockage in her throat. She wants to cry. She needs to cry. She wants to
collapse under the weight, the burden, she carries on her shoulders, but she won't, she can't; it's not her way.

"It's different for you, Rachel. You're not a wolf. You're not an Alpha."
Then Rachel's eyes narrow and her hand all but grabs Quinn's chin, pulling her face up so their eyes lock. Then, in that
movement, the air shifts. The school seems oddly silent. Another deafening silence.

"Then make me a wolf so I can understand."

"So that's the problem?"

"Yeah."

"And what are your thoughts?"

"I don'treally have any."

"It's a huge decision; filled with dangers."

"I know that."

"Then you must be aware that as your mate, it's up to her."

"This could have been avoided. If she hadn't seen through me, we could have avoided this whole issue."

"Seen through you?"

"it's nothing."

"You're a terrible liar."

"Yeahthat's my downfall, I suppose."

"Would you allow her to become a werewolf?"

"I'm conflicted."
"You want her to be a wolf so your bond is strengthened but then again, you don't, simply because it could kill her."
"Yeah."

"It's a tough decision. One you must make together."

"Rachel isn't willing to think it through. She isn't willing to see the fact that it could kill her."

"Because the urge to feel what you feel clouds her judgement?"
"Bingo."

"Do you want to know why I chose not to become a werewolf?"

"The threat of death, wasn't it?"

"No, Quinn. I chose to stay human, not because of the threat of my death, but simply because I was afraid I'd lose myself. I
was born human, wholly to be human. Werewolves are born werewolves, to be both human and wolf. I was scared I would
lose who I was suppose to be. I wasn't willing to become something I wasn't meant to be."
"You chose not to become a wolf, not because your body may not have been able to take it, but because you knew it's
who you weren't meant to be?"
"Exactly."

"But how do I make Rachel see that?"

"As her mate, you have to stand by her decision. This is her choice and her choice alone."

"I refuse to let her make a decision she refuses to think through."
"Then you have to stand by her through her downfall, if that so happens."

"Cybil"
"Any wolf would do the same thing. You're not different."

"All for money"

"Money?"

"Never mind. It's nothing."

For a werewolf to make a human into one of their own is a simple but traumatic procedure. The change can only be made
between two bonded people; a werewolf and human. The bite, the mark that is inflicted when a human is made a mate,
that's all it is, a mark. But after a wolf has bonded with it's mate, the bite, the next bites, until the change is made, has the
opportunity to change them. There's no venom or freaky saliva magic, it's just a simple bite. But this bite has to be deeper;
so deep it pierces all layers of skin and muscle. And it must be made of the original mark.

It's so simple but devastating.

A werewolves body, from birth, is infinitely stronger than any human. Their bodies are bread to withstand serious trauma;
something that would kill a human, would only wound a wolf. When a human is born, their bodies remain innocent, tender.
If their weak bodies were to suddenly undergo the physical and mental stresses that a wolf could easily contend with, it
could easily destroy and rip apart a human from the inside. Rarely do humans survive the transformation, and to give a
statistic, it would be 1% of cases that survive.

1%. Even 99% wouldn't be enough to sate Quinn's chaotic mind.

She disappears off the radar.

Well, to Rachel that is. She only tells her parents where she's going and asked them to call school and say she's sick and
might be off a few days until she's better. She quits both her job at McDonald's and Sue Sylvester's home because after
crunching the numbers once more, she knows she isn't going to be able to get the money in time for the enrolment
deadline. It pains her to give up her last shot at going to New York with Rachel. Her last shot at a future that means
something.
So she gets in her car and drives. She passes the 'You're now leaving Lima' sign, but barely registers it. It's only when
she's on the highway, only the sound of rushing wind beating against her car, does everything finally register.
She breaks down.
And her wolf howls with pain.

Even though she's been told she's part of the family by the head of the household, she still can't believe she's not privy to
information such as her girlfriend's whereabouts. It's been a day, a full day since she all but ordered Quinn to turn her and
made the girl storm out of the room with hardened eyes, awash with tears barely held at bay.

At first she assumed Quinn wasn't at school that morning because of her job at Sue Sylvester's, but one small
conversation only twenty minutes later with Beelzebub herself settled that argument. Quinn quit her job without even a
reason. And it had Rachel worried. When she wasn't around Quinn, she never knew what could be rushing through her
mind. And although an enigma 90% of the time, Rachel couldn't make any sense of Quinn or her thought process' if she
wasn't able to see into those hazel eyes that were almost like a window into the soul.
So by lunchtime, when she had seen hide nor hair of her girlfriend, she decided to make a trip to the Fabray household.
Although she hated ditching school, if only lunch, the pull she had to see her mate was almost unbearable. None of the
Glee Club had seen or heard from the allusive blond, after all, Rachel is meticulous by nature and she had to make sure it
wasn't just Quinn avoiding her.

Finn had heard nothing; in fact, he had the cheek to ask for another overly expensive trip to McDonalds. Brittany just
shrugged her shoulders, almost a little sadly before being dragged away by a miffed looking Santana who quoted "not to
give a shit." Both Mercedes and Kurt were oblivious; they hadn't even noticed Quinn was missing. Puck just scratched his
Mohawk and shrugged. Artie looked almost terrified as she stalked toward him, and after pleading for his life, he told
Rachel the exact same thing; he hadn't heard anything. But Time and Mike, they knew something.

"I swung around to hers last night. She has my Kinect" Tina pats her boyfriend's arm in a gentle comfort, a quiet, "It'll be
okay." Falling from her lips.

"Okay, I don't know what once of those is, but go on."

"Well, her mom told me she had the flu."

"She didn't look too good yesterday," Tina butts in softly, "She looked really pale in Gym. I asked her if she wanted to go
to the nurse, but she said she was fine."

So her girlfriend, who appeared to be healthy, albeit exhausted, suddenly came down with the flu within only a few hours
that left her bed ridden and unable to pick up a phone? The whole thing seemed shifty and completely unbelievable.

So when Russell Fabray answers the door on one of his rare days off, does he frown when his daughter's mate all but
demands to see Quinn.

"Rachel, I know you're my daughter's mateand I'd rather not think about that." He grumbles, because even though it was
bound to happen, he doesn't really like to think about his baby girl having sex. "But sometimes Quinn needs time on her
own to think."
"Think about what? I've done nothing wrong, Russell."

"You know what you did, Rachel." He doesn't sound like he wants to tell her off, but the tone in his voice makes it sound
like an accusation. "You asked her to turn you, without even thinking about how it would make her feel."

"But that's the reason I asked! I want to know how she's feeling or what she's thinking because she said I don't understand
simply because I'm not a wolf. Is that so wrong? To become a wolf so things become easier for her? For us?"

Russell shakes his head softly, pushing back a blonde tendril that falls across his forehead.

"You didn't ask. You demanded. That's two very different things. You demanded she change you. Do you really know the
repercussions of such a drastic change? Have you put any thought into what your friends and family would think? How it
would change your future? Or not allow you to have a future at all?"

Rachel blanches, her automatic and well thought out comeback just dying on her tongue. This conversation took a turn that
she wasn't anticipating. She knew full well that a werewolf could turn a human; she'd heard that from Cybil Noble. But this?
No. Cybil had left out that little titbit of information. No future? What the hell was that suppose to mean?
"What are you talking about?"
Russell just sighs.

Hands resting behind her head, she stares up at the bland white ceiling, thinking but not. Her mind is reeling; whenever
she pins one thought down,, more come to attack her. It drives her into a quiet insanity, one that she cannot escape.
Thoughts of money, thoughts of Rachel, thoughts of New York, thoughts of her parents, thoughts of taking that one, deep
bite over Rachel's mark to turn her. Thoughts of standing by her mate while she feels those first foreign rumblings in her
stomach. Thoughts of watching as she transforms into a glorious brown wolf, smart, cunningly smart and strong. Thoughts
of brown against gold, hunting as one. Being one with one another. But then it all comes right back down to money. She
can't be with Rachel and her wolf if she can't get to New York.

But then again, does she think that a 1% chance is enough to turn her mate? Utter excitement and happiness when the
bite is first taken, but then Rachel collapses, gasping for air, begging, screaming for help. Body tears apart from the
inside out, muscles quake and quiver, stomach turns violently, blood seeps and pools crimson on a stark floor, forever
staining, forever imprinted. Heart slows, lungs cease, body crippled, can't scream any longer. The life from those brown
eyes dying out. A wasted talent. A wasted love. A wasted woman.
No. That thought is too much to bare. No sane person would land their own future on a 1% chance of success. No. There's
no way in hell.
Even being away from Lima isn't enough to escape the problems that she faces. Even tucked away in Boston, on her
sister's living room couch. All she wants is to get away, and she thought time with her fun loving sister would do that, but
no. Nothing works. No matter how hard she tries.

"What do you mean I may not have a future if Quinn turns me?" Rachel asks, simply glancing down at the glass of water
Russell settles down on his desk before her. Judy is downstairs, on the phone, while she and Quinn's father talk in his
study.
Russell sighs and slowly descends into his chair, hands gripping the armrests in quiet desperation.

Although Rachel wasn't of his own blood, since Quinn's marking of her, she might as well be. There's a hidden bond there;
surrogate father to a girl that belongs to his family, his pack, who he cares for and adores. He's not vocal about the depth
of his care, simply because it's not his way; his father wasn't like that, nor was his grandfather. They're silent, but that
doesn't mean they don't care. Rachel, by extension, is his third daughter. And he praises Quinn for her fine taste, because
it's an honor to see Rachel as part of his clan. Werewolf or not.
"Before we start, do you know anything about a werewolf transforming a human? Has Quinn told you anything?"

But Quinn's mentioned nothing. She's never really spoken about changing Rachel. It was an unspoken subject between
them. Of course, she knew Quinn had the power to turn her, but she truly had no idea how difficult the prospect may be.
How could it be so difficult? Of course it may hurt; Quinn had told her many a time that transforming hurt and that it had
taken her years for her body and mind to become accustomed to it.

"She told me nothing." Then Rachel rolls her eyes, "Which isn't a surprise. She doesn't tell me much these days."
"That's understandable. I live with her and I probably see her a collective of 30 minutes a day" He falls silent, brow
knitted, "I can't even hear her thoughts anymore. She's been closed off for weeks."
"I know why"

"Have you two been arguing over the transformation? Rachel, it's not a decision to take lightly. It could kill you."

Eyes shut and a collective breath echoes around the room. Russell leans back in his seat, forehead dropped into the palm
of his hand, mind racing.
She feels like she isn't breathing, but she is, in and out, the fresh air fills her lungs and leaves with no problem. But her
body, it's buzzing with disgust, for herself; no wonder Quinn had run out of the classroom, no wonder she had such a panic
ridden expression as she begged to be turned. She should have known, deep down inside she should have known that
being turned wouldn't be all sunshine and rainbows. She should have known that Russell never takes anyone into his study
unless it was serious. But then again, why should she have known? It's not as if she was brought up to know about
werewolves; she didn't learn about them in middle school, or high school for that matter. How could she have known that
being turned could end her life?

"How could I have known?" Rachel asks quietly, eyes snapping open to land on the man opposite. It shocks her to see
how much he looks like his daughter in that moment; exhausted, broken. "Russell, how could I have known?"

"I raised my daughter better than this," He sighs, dejected, "She had all this time to tell you. She had all this time to sit you
down and tell you what could happen"
Russell Fabray was 13 years old when he saw his first and last human to werewolf transformation. His uncle, Robert,
turned his wife after a year of planning finally brought the day ahead. Russell hadn't meant to drop by, in fact, he was
suppose to be at school, but a job painting his uncle's house took him there. He was an avid painter and decorator; a
hobby that his uncle pushed him to pursue. He had gone to the house, but receiving no reply and seeing the SUV
parked in the driveway, he wandered inside.
Paint cans lined the walls and in his excitement, he began pursuing the different shades, wondering which colour would
go in which room. He'd managed to only put his hand on the last pot of paint when the sounds of hushed conversation,
first his uncle's voice, then a soft feminine voice, his wife, Amy's voice, littered downstairs.
"We planned this, Rob. There's no point stalling anymore."

"But"

"I knowbut I want this. I want to be a part of you."

Russell followed the voices, his sneakers softly squeaking on the wooden floors before he slowly ascended the stairs.
All the doors in the hallway were shut, ready to be painted, apart from the door right at the end, his uncle and aunt's
bedroom.
The feeling of intruding washed through him, but the urge to know that belonged to anyone his age overpowered it. He
followed the voices, quietly making his way to the cracked bedroom door.
Amy was sat on the edge of the bed, eyes following her husband's meticulous pacing. She looked calm, Robert on the
other hand, was pale and shaking.
"Rob, you're making this harder than it has to be. I want to do this."

Then the pacing stops and Robert faces his wife. Russell stares at his back as it flexes through the back of his crisp
white dress shirt.
He can't hear what they say, voices too low for even Russell to hear. He strains to listen, but it doesn't help. But then his
uncle is moving, dropping to his knees before his wife. He takes her hands and softly kisses each individual knuckle
and Amy just watches, softly smiling at the clear adoration her husband has for her.
"Please change your mind" He pleads, lips still brushing the soft skin of her knuckles.

But Amy just shakes her head with the same soft smile and pulls her hands away, unbuckling the silver watch that
settles on her left wrist.
Russell see's his aunt's mark, it's small, small enough to be hidden by a watch, but it looks so much more deeper than
the one his mother has. That barely broke the skin, but his aunt's looked a lot deeper. His father had told him it was a
sign of control. If the bite barely breaks the skin, it proves how in control of your wolf you are. It appears his uncle wasn't
in control that much.
Amy extends her arm to her husband, flexing her hand back to expose her wrist. They lock eyes, and with a small nod
from Amy, and a bated breath from Russell, Robert grabs his wife's forearm and sinks his teeth deep into her wrist,
right over her mark.
The scream sends Russell rocketing back onto his backside, knees bent, feet planted on the ground, arms extended
behind him, eyes wide as he watches his uncle's jaw clench down harder of his aunt's wrist. But then he's pulling back,
licking the blood from his lips.
Amy is quiet on the bed, but her body shakes slightly, the aftershocks of the pain dissipating from her body.
"Are you okay?" Robert asks, wiping the tears away from his wife that the pain he inflicted upon his wife caused.

"I" Amy clears her throat, "I think so." Robert blows out a lungful of air with relief. It'd worked. "When should I feel
something?"
"I have no idea" He frowns, climbing to his feet. "We'll just monitor it carefully. We'll have to be very careful."

Any nods slightly, "Okay." And she climbs to her feet, shakily, brow knitted, "Rob?"
"What? What's wrong?"

"II don't kn-,"

And she's screaming, collapsing to the bed as her body visibly fits. She screams for Robert as he jumps on the bed
beside her, holding her close.
She opens her mouth to ask if transforming is suppose to be this painful, but instead she coughs, spraying her
husband's stark white shirt with a sparkle of red.
"No! This wasn't suppose to happen to us!"

Her blood.
Robert cries, barely heard over the screams and violent thrashing of his wife's body. Blood paints his shirt as he
clutches her to his chest. She's in a painful agony, there's no end to it, and there's nothing he can do.
He did this. She demanded and begged to be changed and he couldn't deny his mate. So all he can do is hold her,
sobbing and begging for her to live as her body continues to thrash violently on the bed.
"Uncle Robert!" Russell screams, unable to keep quiet any longer, terrified.

Robert's eyes slam to the doorway, to where his nephew sits on the hallway floor, shaking. He see's red instantly and
through the tears, through the sounds of his wife's ear piercing screams and the slowing beats of her heart, he screams,
"Get the fuck out, Russ!"
His tone is terrifying and Russell doesn't think twice. He clambers quickly to his feet and bolts.
Robert wasn't telling his nephew to leave simply because he wasn't meant to be there, but because he wasn't willing to
let him see the death of his aunt. And as Russell bolts down the stairs and across the foyer, kicking over a paint can of
pale pink, especially picked by both Amy and Robert for their unborn baby girl, he's left with the agonizing scream of a
woman that he adored and the heartbreaking howl of a man and wolf that was losing everything.

"I don't have the right to tell you what to do, that's yours and Quinn's issue."
Rachel sighs, standing from her chair and moving over to the window that overlooks the backyard. The water of the pool
ripples gently with the quiet breeze that sifts the trees. How she wishes she could be outside, forgetting everything, all the
problems. How she wishes she could see Quinn and just be held.

"Then give me your opinion." Rachel presses her palm against the glass, "You can give me that, right?"
"I'll be stepping on an Alpha's personal business. Unless you want me to be killed?"

Rachel's hand drops from the window, hanging limp at her side as her eyes continue to scan the pool. Ripple after ripple.
"You're her father."

Russell spins his chair to face her, arms crossed over his chest. "I may be her father, but that doesn't change the fact that
she's the Alpha of this family. Her wolf will want to fight me for intruding in on it's business, and both Quinn and I know
she's much stronger than I."
"She'd kill her own father"

"Wolves are territorial by nature, Alpha's more so. I'm not willing to battle my daughter just because I got involved with her
affairs."

Rachel shakes her head in disbelief; she never knew that being an Alpha's mate would be so difficult. Of course she had
researched, but research only goes so far. Living in the moment is what gives you the best research. But killing a member
of your own family simply because they're offering to help or their opinion? It was disgusting.
It shocks her that Michael Hunter wasn't killed.

"Please Russell" She pleads, resting her forehead against the cool glass, eyes shut, hot breath fogging, "Just give me
something."

Lee McRary watches silently as he chews on a pieces of toast in his family home. His wife, Frannie, stands beside him,
sipping on her coffee. Abigail McRary, a beautiful dirty blonde haired girl, sits at the kitchen table, colouring while she
shovels Count Chocula into her small mouth.
"How long will she be here?" Lee asks quietly, hoping not to stir a still sleeping Quinn in the other room.

"Only a few days at the most, she has school, after all." Frannie settles her coffee mug down on the kitchen counter and
huffs, "I know you don't like the fact she's here, but she sounded like she really needed a shoulder to cry on."

"It's not that I mind she's here, but instead of looking after her, you should be looking after the baby you're carrying."
"She's my baby sister" Frannie chides, "And soon enough I'll have to get used to looking after two people, won't I?"

Lee smiles and grins when his wife ruffles his brown hair playfully.
"C'mon, gimme a kiss before I go to work."

And as they kiss, Abigail looks up from her colouring book, milk dripping down her chin and shouts, "Mama and Papa
love each'ova!"
It's only a matter of seconds after he's walked in the door after work, a ten hour shift as a computer technician, that his wife
rushes up to him, tells him that his daughter is in bed and that his dinner is in the oven, before she races past him, hand
clutched around her baby sister's hand as she drags her along. Quinn offers a sheepish look before she's pulled through
the front door.

"Uh" Lee mumbles, scratching the back of his head, "Okay?"

They're at Gulliver Creek, right by the Neposet River Reservation, and stood on a deserted plot of land, only the whirring of
passing cars on the expressway filling the odd silence of the night.
"Why are we here?" Quinn asks, pivoting on the balls of her feet to look around. There's nothing, just flat greens and trees.

"Because I want to try something." She drops the bag that she'd pulled out from the backseat to the floor and smiles.
Quinn knows what it was; a change of clothes.

"I don't really feel like transforming right now" Quinn turns her back, sighs and looks up to the skies; not a single star in
the sky, no moon, a blank slate.

"We can go for a run, just the two of us, like the good old days."
Quinn huffs out a laugh, "I know what you're trying to do, Fran. You're trying to make me feel all nostalgic, trying to take me
back to a time when the only thing I had to worry about was getting my homework in on time. It's not going to work."
Frannie is silent, and Quinn sighs in quiet relief; she knew her old sister's plan all along and the fact it backfired would no
doubt annoy her.
All she wanted to do was sleep. She wanted to go lie down on that lumpy couch and sleep the night away and hopefully
make it through the night without a nightmare. She wanted to make it through the night without seeing Rachel, lying in a
pool of her own blood with a transformation gone wrong.

"I used to hate you, you know"

Quinn's chin drops to her chest and she squeezes her eyes shut.

"After you first transformed, all of dad's attention went straight onto you. I didn't hate that, after all, he'd spent years
personally training me. But you, when you made your first hunt, he saw something inside of you. Mom and I felt it too, of
course, but he seemed so eager to know more. I knew what it was, I just didn't want to accept it. After all, why should you
have the right to be an Alpha and not me?"

Quinn bites down softly on her bottom lip; she always knew that Frannie held some form of jealousy toward her because of
her relationship with their father. But hatred?

"I hated you so much, for so long." Frannie sighs, turning her back to Quinn. The two sisters stand together, back to back,
feet apart on an open plane. To anyone, it would look like a stand off, but the two women knew what they were doing;
airing dirty laundry, burying old ghosts that still haunted them. "So when you were officially labelled as an Alpha, I wasn't
really surprised." She chuckles softly, "In fact, I expected it."

Quinn's throat bobs as she swallows, slowly raising her head to hesitantly look over her shoulder, "Do you still hate me?"
"No, not anymore." She shakes her head, "I love you. You couldn't help that you were born with that gift. Now that I think
about it, I don't think I'd want to be shouldered with that burden."
The younger blonde's shoulders shake with a silent laugh, "Tell me about it."

And Frannie turns back around, eyes soft as she regards her sister, "So, want to go for a run?"

"All I can tell you is that you need to speak to Quinn and then you need to think long and hard about what you really want
because this isn't a decision anyone takes lightly, not just because it means becoming a werewolf yourself, but because it
could be potentially life threatening."

Rachel straightens, pulling away from the window to look at Russell. "Then I'll talk to Quinn." And she heads to the study
door, but Russell's voice stops her.

"It's late, you should go home."

"Russell."

"She isn't here, Rachel. She's gone to see her sister in Boston. She'll be back in a few days."
"Boston?"
Russell nods, "It's only for a few days, she'll be back in no time."
"A few days" Rachel sighs in resignation, but can't help but feel that Quinn might just stay in Boston to avoid all her
problems. She might just run away forever.

They run, almost in tandem, paws pound in a melodic beat that sets the pace. They race from time to time, which Quinn
always wins.

"You're cheating!"

"Am not. Can't help it if you're slow, Tubbers."

And although Frannie Fabray, and by default, her wolf are pregnant, she launches herself at her younger sister and tackles
her to the ground. They play fight, playfully biting at one another's necks as they roll around in the dirt And it's only until
Frannie has her sister pinned, do they stop.

"I win!" Frannie thinks, smugly.

"The only reason you won is because I won't kick you off of me, after all, I have a baby nephew in there I need to
protect, right?"
Frannie's pale blonde wolf is silent for a moment and it's piercing blue eyes almost peer into Quinn's soul.

And then the wolf licks it's chops before that very same tongue sends one long lick up along Quinn's snout.

"Gross, Fran!"

Frannie barks happily, then in the silence that follows, her voice fills Quinn's mind.

"Do you want to think about it?"

No. Not tonight. Just for one night she wants to forget.

"Not tonight, Frannie. Please."

"I'll be here as long as you need me," She whispers before protectively lowering her head over Quinn', nose snuffing
gently at flattened ears.

I love you.
So much.
I miss you.
So much.
Quinnplease come back.
I need you.
I love you too. Soon.

When?
When I'm ready to talk.

Okay. I won't push you.

Thanks, Rach.
Quinn comes back two days later, looking a lot better than she did then when she left. It's a Saturday when the doorbell
rings and her father answers the door, so when the call of her father's familiar voice shouts up the stairs, "Rach! Quinn is
here!" She just jumps from her seat and all but bolts out the door and down the stairs and straight into Quinn's open arms.

"You're back" Rachel whispers quietly into Quinn's neck, smelling in that familiar perfume that soothed and calmed her,
and when she felt the soft touch of her girlfriend's hands on her back, she sobs silently, comforted that Quinn came back.

Hiram leaves them, shuffling away into the kitchen to give the two girls their privacy. He'd noticed that Rachel hadn't been
herself for the past few days and he assumed it was just because she said Quinn had gone to Boston for a few days, but
this, this was something deeper, something more emotional, something he shouldn't be privy to, even as a father.
"I told you I'd be back, Rach" Quinn replies quietly, pressing a soft and soothing kiss to Rachel's temple. She holds her
as she cries and barely fights off the tears herself; she feels horrible for leaving Rachel in the dark, even if it was just for a
few days, but they hadn't exactly left on good terms. She shuddered to think what went through Rachel's mind while she'd
been gone.
Her father had filled her in, of course, hence why she had come to early in the morning. Seven am, a feat that Quinn never
thought she could succeed in pulling off, but she'd done it, because she needed to see Rachel, she needed to smell
Rachel, she needed to kiss Rachel.

So she pulls back, a hand running up to thread through silky brown hair, holding her by the back of her head. Hazel eyes
scan Rachel's face; she doesn't look tired, she doesn't look like she's been losing sleep over anything. Her eyes shine
with a gentle hope.
"God, I've missed you."

Rachel smiles shyly, "I've missed you too"

And they're kissing, softly, slowly, sedately, until something snaps between the two of them almost like a bolt of lightning.
Their clutching at each other's shirts, holding each other close as lips brush, teeth nip and tongues dual. They need to be
close, they need to feel that connection that bonds them together.

"I can hear you!" Hiram chides from the kitchen and they pull apart almost as if they were electrocuted from the haze of
their arousal. "Why, thank you." Hiram adds, returning to his duties in the kitchen.

But it doesn't stop Quinn from pulling at the collar of Rachel's shirt, exposing a mark not hidden by make up, but clear to
anyone who would glance upon it. She leans down and presses a soft kiss to the mark before flicking the tip of her tongue
over it, sending shivers up and down Rachel's spine.
"Is it suppose to be that sensitive?" She asks with a quiet gasp.

Quinn chuckles against the skin, "I should have bitten you on your p-,"
"Quinn Fabray!"

"I want no lady babies made in this house, girls!"

"Are you ready to talk?"

"Yeah" Quinn settles down at the coffee table in front of her sister and her brother in law.

"Lee, honey." Frannie hints softly.

"No, I need his opinion on this too"

The man looks mildly surprised, eyebrows rising over the coffee cup his sips from, "Uhsure." He settles the mug
down and clasps his hands together on the kitchen table, settling himself into the conversation. Quinn and he had
never really had much time conversing with one another, usually it was just a 'hello, how're you?' and that was them
done, so it came as a shock, a good shock, that she would ask for his help too.
"So what's wrong?" Frannie asks, trying to hide the need to know what has Quinn so down. She's always wanted to know
other people's business; that little pet peeve, she'd had since High School.
"It's about Rachel, you know, my mate?"

"You marked her?" Lee asks, genuinely shocked.

"Holyshit!"

"Frannie!" Quinn sighs tiredly, dropping her head forward into her hand.

"Sorry, it's just a big shock" She amends, "Sowhat's the problem? Are you regretting it? Or, is Rachel?"
"No, nothing like that. We had a fight and she kindawell, she did, she asked me to turn her."

"HolyShit!"

"Lee!" Quinn groans, shaking her head at her brother in law.

"Sorry, that's justfuck, that's brutal."

"Tell me about it." Quinn sighs, leaning back in her seat, chin to chest.

"And how do you feel about that?" Frannie asks, always the voice of reason.

"How do I feel about sending my girlfriend to an early grave? Peachy."

Frannie raises an eyebrow, almost look like an exact twin of Quinn at the gesture, "Don't be smarmy. You must know
what can happen if you change her, but then again, it's up to her and if that's what she really wants, and she accepts the
problems that couldn't arise from it, you can't really deny her."
"But why not?"

Lee smiles sadly, "It's not in our nature, kiddo."

"Nature sucks"

"Just talk to her, Quinn. It's all you can do."

"I guess you're here because of what I asked you a few days ago?" Rachel asks, sitting on the edge of her bed, hands
planted on her lap, looking sheepish. But when Quinn settles down on her knees before her and takes her hands in a
gentle grip, she instantly settles; she's not in trouble.
"Do you know what the consequences are, Rach? If I do thatI couldI could"

"Kill me." Rachel adds helpfully, sadly, "I know."

"Rachel, I can't do that with any good reason. There's a slim to no chance that you'll survive and I'm not willing to lose you."

Her mate drops her head and sighs, "I can't say I'm notupset by that, because honestly, I think the thought of you turning
me, of being a werewolf, truly is invigorating."

"Rach"
"Can I at least think about the prospect?" Rachel asks, hopefully.

"The prospect of me killing you?" Quinn exclaims, rocking back onto the balls of her feet. "Rachel, I'm not doing it!"
"I'm your mate, you can't deny me!" Then Rachel sighs, "I know there's a high probability I may die, but if there's a chance,
no matter how small, shouldn't I take it? I'd be a werewolf, I'd be one of you andI'd feel so much more closer to you. I
wouldn't feel as if I was being left in the dust all the time.."

Quinn frowns, "Is that the only reason why? Because you feel left out?" She shakes her head in disbelief, "My God,
Rachel."

"Of course it's not, Quinn! I'm not completely brain dead. I wouldn't consider such a dire solution if I was just 'left out'. I'm
doing this because I want to be that much closer to you, I want to know what you're thinking. I always feel like I'm two steps
behind you. I always feel sobelittled."
"I" She sighs, "I didn't know I made you feel that way."

"You don't do intentionally, just when you tell me I won't understand what you're going through because I'm not a wolf, it
justhurts."

Quinn launches up, wrapping her arms tightly around Rachel's soft body. She claps to that body and envelops herself in it's
warm; disgusted that she made her mate feel that way. She was suppose to protect her mate, not make her feel unsafe
and belittled. Had she brought all of this on? Rachel's paranoia and her need to be included was brought on by her
treatment?

"I'm so sorry" Her wolf whimpers quietly, hidden away in the back of her mind, ashamed to even show itself proudly
anymore.

"You didn't know you were doing it. Don't apologize for something you had no idea about." Rachel threads her hands
through Quinn's hair, pulling at the tendrils, luxuriating in the way Quinn's body seemed to melt against her own. They fit
together, just like a puzzle piece, they belonged with one another.

"I still feel guilty," Quinn sighs, "And I'm still sorry."
"I guess I can't stop you feeling that way," Rachel smiles sadly, "Just like you can't stop me thinking about changing."

Quinn pulls back slightly, tilting her head up to regard Rachel, "Pleasedon't make me do it."
"I'm only thinking about it, Quinn."
"But" Tears shine her eyes, "There's only two options andI'm scared you'll chose the one I don't want you to chose. II
can't lose you." She buries her head against Rachel's chest, lips pressed against the mark.

"Just" Rachel sighs raggedly, fighting back tears, "Just let me think about it, Quinn. At least give me that right."

And it hurts, because it's the last thing she wants, but she nods, because it's in her nature.

Deny your mate is denying yourself. You cannot do it.

"To deny your mate is denying yourself. You cannot do it." Lee offers, oddly mage-like. "Trust me, I tried with Frannie
dozens of times. She wanted to stay in Boston, I didn't, but in the end we stayed because I couldn't deny her."
"No, we stayed because Boston is a nice place to have our children grow up, stop acting like I'm the bad guy."

Quinn smiles softly at their bickering, before sobering, "ButI can't lose her."
"I know, sis. But Rachel can think for herself and if it's what she really wants, you have to give it to her."

"I need her in my life though. If she choses to change, what would I do then?"

"I" Frannie turns to Lee in a silent plead for help.

"We can't help you there. Every wolf is unique and as an Alpha, you have the potential to find another mate, butwe all
know that's not what you want."
"I want her. I need her."

"We know, sis." Frannie sighs quietly, "So you marked her?" She asks, honest to God trying to change the morbid
subject, "That means you're going to be going wherever she is, huh?"
"New York." Quinn nods softly, but not really meeting her older sisters eyes.

"What's wrong?" Lee asks, leaning forward in his seat to catch his sister in law's eyes.

"I don't have the money," She says, flat out coming clean after a month of lying and keeping it to herself. It feels so
utterly euphoric she actually slumps back into her seat and sighs with relief, but then the reality kicks in. "Mom and dad
only saved a terms worth for NYU because they thought I was getting a scholarship, that and I was only planning to stay
at OSU before I met Rachel."
Frannie is oddly quiet, leaning back in her own seat as Lee shrugs his shoulders, "Hey, you have a car. Even if you
can't get to NYU, you can easily drive over there on the weekends. And you always have phone calls and Skype to
keep each other occupied until you can see one another."
"It's not the same. I need to be there, I need to see her andI need to be able to smell her." It sounds so odd telling
this to a man she never really spoke to, but the way his eyes softened, almost like he understood her, kept her going, "I
can't get that through a phone, or through a laptop screen. I need to feel her skin, I need to see those eyes shine
whenever I make her smile."
"I know that feeling." Lee smiles sadly, "When I went away for work two weeks before our wedding, I was crawling the
walls of my hotel room. I spoke to her hourly, Skyped nightly, but it still wasn't the same."
"You need that closeness-,"

"You need to know that they're only a step away."

Quinn and Lee fall into a comfortable silence and Frannie, who had remind quiet for the whole conversation, suddenly
springs back to life, "Haven't you spoken to Uncle Noble?"
"Uncle Noble? You mean Alfred?"

"Yeah," She nods, "He's almost like an uncle, I call him that."
"Why would I need to talk to him? He's helped me with my training already."

"I'm talking about your college fund."

"What about it?" Then she rolls her eyes with a scoff, "Or lack of."

"Oh God, you don't know"

"I need to go see Alfred." Quinn pulls back and wipes the tears that mar her cheeks, "Meet me at the park tonight?"
"Quinn"

"Please? I just need to sort something out."

Rachel sighs, eyes scanning her girlfriend's face and seeing the silent pleading look that she gives, her resolve crumbles
and she nods, "Okay. I'll be there. Midnight, like usual?"
"Midnight." And she presses a soft kiss to her girlfriend's lips, her nose, her forehead, both temples before repeating the
whole sequence again before leaving.
She needs to sort this out for good.

"They never told you." Frannie shakes her head, "Typical mom and dad; if they can't read their children's mind then
they just assume nothing is wrong. They've become so dependent on reading their children's minds that they don't do
the normal parenting that every other human parent does."
"Frannie."

"Mom and dad only saved you one term, because that was all they were told to save."

"What?"

"Alfred Noble and his wife aren't as straight and narrow as you may think. Alfred inherited a huge nestegg after his
father died in battle with an Alpha from Florida. Alfred had no need for the money though, so he put it into a saving's
account, never to be touched. Him and his father apparently didn't get along, so he didn't really want to touch the
money that he'd had. After the years, it began accumulating interest, and by the time I was due to go to College,
although I had my scholarship and a full ride, he offered me a considerable about of money as down payment for a
home when I left."
"This house"

"You seriously think we can afford it on Lee's salary?"

"I work hard for my money, Fran."

"Shush up, I'm speaking. I used the money as a deposit for this house and I've been using it ever since to pay off the
mortgage every month. He propositioned dad with the money for when he retired, seen as though he didn't have any
use for the money, so instead, dad asked if the money that he would have gotten, could be used for his daughter's
education. Alfred agreed, simply because he saw us both as his grandchildren, not by blood, but the emotional
connection was there."
"So that means"

"Dad was offered $200,000, almost all of the money that Alfred had in his saving's account. He split it down the middle
for both of us. I took $100,000, you took $100,000."
"Butthe" Her mouth dropped open, "But the money mom and dad were saving."

"Was for you to use on a new car and the expenses along with it. Alfred asked them to save money for the both of us,
because somehow he knew we'd go far away and he wanted us to be safe, seening as though both he and our parents
couldn't be there to overlooks us."
"I'm dreaming."

"'Fraid not, kiddo." Lee chuckles, sipping at his lukewarm coffee, half spilling it down his shirt as Quinn dives over the
kitchen table to hug them both.

Cybil opens the door first and when she's entrapped in a steel like hug, she gasps for air before mercifully being let go,
"Why hello to you too, Quinn."

"Sorry, I just" Her eyes shoot across Cybil's face, truly taking the woman in for the first time since they met, "My God, just
thank you."

Cybil frowns, but then slowly, eventually, the penny drops and she smiles lovingly, "Anytime. Now come in, I won't be the
only one subjected to your overbearing hugs." Quinn follows the old woman in, shutting the door carefully behind her, trying
not to slam it through the doorframe and out the other side in her excitement. "He's in the living room, I'll make some tea."
And only when Cybil Is safely through the living room and into the kitchen, does Quinn bolt into the living room and all but
tackle the eighty year old octogenarian as he reads the morning paper on the couch.

"Oh dear God!" Alfred exclaims, trapped between an overly excited, thrumming body and the back of the couch, "Quinn!
What are you doing?"

"Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She plants a sloppy kiss to his forehead, one, in his daze he accepts. And
before he knows it, Quinn is pulling back, grinning giddily at him, "Thank you, so much."

"I have no idea what-," Realization dawns, then he grins playfully, "You're quite welcome."
But then the girl before him is breaking down, sobbing, but still smiling.

"What's wrong?" He asks, only mildly concerned because of that smile.

"You've saved me. You really have."

Midnight. A time that belongs to two girls who are bonded to one another forever. At a park where it all began, but will
never end. At a swing that belongs wholly to Rachel as she swings back and forth, luxuriating in the soft breeze that sifts
past her with each swing. And Quinn, who she belongs to, watches with a barely kept back grin from the entrance to the
park, arms stuffed in the jacket of her hoodie, only just holding back the excitement of the news she has to give.

And with each footstep closer to Rachel, she smells her scent, she somehow feels that warmth and love that Rachel
naturally gives off, and suddenly, Rachel is pulled back into her arms, still sat on the swing, hands clenched around rusted
chains.
They're silent, quietly enjoying the moment of being together once more. But it's only when Quinn brings her lips to
Rachel's ear and an almost silent whisper of, "I have the money." Does the scream of excitement that Rachel let's off cut
through the stoic air, finally bringing life to a park that no longer held childhood dreams and fantasy, but a promised future.
*Chapter 10*: Horizon
Russell and Judy Fabray just shine with pride as they watch their daughter finally fill out her application for enrolment at
NYU. She carries herself with a natural confidence as she scribbles away, almost furiously, trying desperately to get to the
one part of the form that she wants to fill out.

Her pen scribbles away and Judy rolls her eyes, chiding her daughter mentally to calm down otherwise they won't be able
to read her terrible scrawl, then smiles when Quinn smirks to herself and takes the time to slow her hand down. Russell is
silent through the whole event, he just watches, calmly, listening to his daughter's excited thoughts; apartment hunting, one
apartment that Rachel already had her eyes on, the course she would take for her 4 year tenure and of course, College
life.
His daughter was finally growing up and he was worried, but then again, what father wouldn't be? No longer would Quinn
be in Lima where he could easily access her mind and hear how she feels. No longer would he be a hallway away for help.
No longer would he be the shoulder to cry on; that privilege had transferred to Rachel as soon as Quinn took that one
permanent bite to her skin.
But he knew his daughter had the strength to do it, and although she was as stubborn as a mule, she would learn how to
deal with things on her own without making herself self destruct. She had a gift that was only ever bestowed upon a small
handful of wolves; she was strong enough to protect herself and the new pack she would inevitably make.

His head visibly jolts when he hears Quinn, excitedly, get to the part of the form she was looking forward to the most. She
takes the time, pen strokes deeper as she fills out the information for where she was getting the money to pay for all 4
years. The smirk she has on her face is so smarmy, it's verging on shit eating, and Russell can't help but chuckle to
himself as he hears a sarcastic 'suck that, overpriced College tuition' in his mind.

"Quinn," Judy chides with a roll of her eyes and both Russell and Quinn laugh as she signs the form with an elegant flick of
her wrist, "God forbid what your language will be like once you live in New York for a few months."

The youngest Fabray turns, smirks and says, "Fuckin' atrocious."

And Russell just snorts.

Both Rachel and her father had already gone to New York the week before to check out Julliard's campus, and of course,
watch a Broadway show, because, is just the right thing to do when you're in the city that never sleeps and lives and
breathes art.
Her audition wasn't until two weeks later anyway, but she just wanted to familiarize herself with the place, although all she'd
done was stare at the campus and mutter how beautiful it was from her laptop screen. The need to go there was in the
stratosphere and to solidify her chances of getting into that prestigious school, she had to hit the nail out of the ballpark
or however the analogy went, she never really watched basketball.
She knew that the professors would be expecting something unoriginal; a monologue and a song from an overly famous
Broadway show like RENT or Wicked or even Phantom. She knew they'd sit there, take one look at her and assume she
was a Broadway nut and when she told them she'd be singing Defying Gravity from Wicked or something else overly
popular, they'd just roll their eyes and cross her name straight off the list without even listening to her sing.
Julliard was a school teeming with talent. She was the most talented singer at McKinley, but that didn't necessarily mean
that she was going to be the most talented at Julliard. She was big headed, but not that big headed.

She knew she had to pick something that was out of the box; something unique, something that the professors wouldn't be
expecting from a simple Ohio girl, if Rachel was something, it most definitely wasn't simple.

Both her choice of song and monologue hadn't changed. She'd picked them while she was still in Freshman year of High
School, and nothing since had made her second guess her decision.
Before she started High School, she and both her father's had watched a travelling theatre company called Never Forget
put on their one and only play at the Lima Community Theatre. The play was simply about 9/11 and throughout the whole
play, Rachel was crying; never had she seen such raw emotion portrayed on stage and the ending, while a beautiful
homage to the lives lost on that fateful day, held some semblance of horror and unanswered questions.
Luckily, she had managed to corner the director, a man named Benjamin Whitley, had written the play while studying at
NYU. He had tried to get the play onto bigger stages, but he was always turned away simply because of the play's topic.
No one wanted to watch a play about something so horrific. But Ben hadn't taken no for an answer, he set up his own
theatre company, hired his own actors, got his own props, all out of his own pocket, and decided to travel the country.

"I just wanted to have people see it and if they come away with any sort of emotion toward it, I've done my job."

She thanked him for writing such a beautiful play and in return, he offered her a script with his signature slap bang in the
middle of the front page. And as she flicked through the script later that night, curled up in bed after posting her lasted
MySpace video, she landed eyes on the monologue that would secure her position at Julliard. Even at the ripe age of
fifteen, she knew she'd go to that school and that monologue would be the one to get her there.

"Honey, why do you look like you're going to explode all over your bedroom?" Hiram Berry asks from her doorway,
cleaning the lenses of his glasses with the hem of his dress shirt.

"Dad, I'm not about to combust over my bedroom walls." Rachel chides playfully, "How could I audition for Julliard if I was
in thousands of tiny Berry pieces?"

"And compete in Nationals."

And she was pacing again, gnawing on the tip of her thumbnail and Hiram just watched with a simple roll of his eyes. His
daughter was talented, there was no denying that, and she could also handle pressure better than he could, and he was a
damn surgeon, but there were times when a person reached their limit.

Rachel was fast approaching hers, hence the awkward pacing and exorcist like muttering.
"Rach, sweetie, calm down."

"How can I be calm?" Rachel asks around her thumb, "My Julliard audition finishes only an hour before the New Directions
are scheduled to appear on stage. How am I suppose to finish my audition and race across New York City in time?"
Hiram shrugs his shoulders, "Time machine?"
He's chuckling too hard to notice the pillow that comes flying at his face, "Not funny."

"Sweetie, just calm down. Just be sure to jump in a cab as soon as you get out of your audition and you should make it to
Nationals just in time, maybe with even a few minutes to spare."

Rachel stops, turns and flicks an eyebrow at her father, "You don't understand how busy New York streets are do you?"
"Then run. You could be like that girl in that artsy French movie your daddy made us watch, you knowuhmoh! Run Lola
Run."

She stamps her foot, she actually stamps her foot and Hiram bites down on his bottom lip to stop the laughter from
breaking free. His daughter always had a flair for dramatics, she'd gotten that special little trait from Leroy. Always with the
dramatics and the foot stomping and the pouting

"Dadjust" Then Rachel pouts and shoos him away, "Godisappearshoo"

She listens to her father chuckle as he high tails it out of her bedroom and sighs with relief when she hears his footsteps
down the stairs. It's not that her father isn't helping, in fact, he's fantastic comic relief, but the fear of actually missing
Nationals was really beginning to get to her. Of course, she knew that Julliard came first, it was her future after all. But it'd
be the last time she'd be at a competition with her friends; with the Glee Club that actually made her High School life
bearable.

"Dad was right" She huffs, collapsing onto her bed, face planting the comforter, "I need a time machine." Then she
pauses, "Or a fantastic pair of running shoes."

Santana Lopez decided to go to UCLA, simply because Brittany is going. She wants to dance and she wants do that in
the big city of Los Angeles and if she's going, that means Santana goes right along with her. She doesn't need to double
think, she doesn't need to worry about if she's jumping head first into a situation that she might not be able to get herself
out of.

Because Brittany Pierce will be there and that makes everything okay.
She's still dealing with infinitely difficult problem of; how do I tell people I'm gay? One part of her could give two flying fucks,
simply because its her life and she's living it for herself. But then the other part just shuts down; the stares that she'd get,
the sneers, the shouts of queer in the hallways.

She'd seen the way that Karofsky had physically and emotionally tormented Kurt, although that was done for an entirely
different reason, Karofsky was as gay as a rainbow parade, but there were others. What would happen if she took a
shower inn the Cheerio's locker room and the other girls assumed she was staring at them, perving on them? What would
happen if word got back to Coach Sylvester and she was thrown of the team for using her time to drool over girls in short
skirts instead of doing double back flips and being on top of that pyramid?
Then, without the Cheerio's to fall back on, she'd be at the bottom of the food chain, without a leg to stand on. A lesbian
open to slurs about her sexuality with no way to fight back. She'd crumble into herself, push away the few people that
stood by her; push away Brittany. Then what would she have?

Nothing.
But then again. This was Senior Year. The last year to live High School the way you wanted to; to show everyone what your
made of and finally leave some form of a legacy behind. She'd come out, she'd be proud and instead of sitting in the back
of an empty auditorium with a 'Lebanese' shirt on, she'd walk the halls with her familiar pride and arrogance, with a blonde
bombshell on her damn arm.

And she'd do it all with fucking pride as long as she had Brittany and her frie-.
What friends does she have? Sure, she has the Glee Club, but really, the only reason she speaks to any of them is
because they're in the same club. If she wasn't in Glee she doubts she'd give any of them the time of day. She really had
one other true friend, the other blonde who made up the Unholy Trinity; Quinn Fabray.

Quinn, who had stood by her for all those years, had turned her back on her for Rachel Berry; the same girl who had been
the bane of the blonde's existence since middle school. Santana wouldn't have flipped as much as she had, if the change
hadn't been so sudden. One day Quinn and Rachel were enemies, the next day Rachel and Quinn were bumping uglies.
How the hell did that come about? Honestly?

Rachel Berry had been a royal pain in their asses since middle school; she was obsessed with fucking Broadway and
being an award winning actress and singer had now turned her attention on her best friend. It was fishy. Really fucking
fishy. Berry's attention span tended to shoot from one thing to the other in a matter of minutes; but her relationship with
Quinn had lasted months, right? It gave Quinn plenty enough time to fall deeper for the hobbit; to invest herself deeper into
this relationship.
Seriously, Quinn was planning to go to OSU before Berry came around and now it's always 'New York, this! New York,
that!' Rachel was shoving her own ideals onto her girlfriend and as Quinn's friend, Santana fucking despised that. Quinn
was a strong, independent woman; it was one of the main things that Santana saw gleaming in those eyes when they first
met.
Now what? She was just a cling on to Rachel Berry, dragging herself along until one day, sometime soon, maybe in the
distant future, Rachel will turn around and say, 'I had fun. I'm going to marry my hunky male Broadway co-star.'

Where would Quinn go? Back to Lima? Back to living with her mother? How pathetic would that be? How degrading
would that be to Quinn? As a Fabray, she holds herself in high regard; she's filled with pride and respect, one word from
Rachel and that whole persona could be shattered.

And she knew it could happen, and she knew that Quinn could shatter, because Rachel had her wrapped around her little
finger.

It was vomit inducing and she needed to make Quinn see the bigger picture before it was too late.

Thanks to her choice to go to New York, Quinn's training almost triples in quantity. Alfred demands that after school she
train with him in the woods just outside of Lima. She can hardly complain, after all, she loves to train and so does her wolf.
With each individual training session with Alfred or her father, she notes how much stronger her wolf gets.

Sometimes the rise in strength are only tiny and insignificant, but it's a rise all the same. She's getting to a strength that
she didn't know existed and it thrills her to no end. Although her wolf sometimes sets her into a false sense of security and
makes her begin to believe she's the stronger wolf in the whole of North America.
Even she isn't that stubborn or nave. She's heard the stories about other Alpha's that could take down three separate
packs without even breaking a sweat. She's heard about wolves, just ordinary run of the mill werewolves, take on Alpha's
and win. Of course, they come out a lot worse for wear, but their newly accomplished role of 'Alpha' just makes them forget
about the pain.
She knows she isn't the strongest wolf in America, but she knows she's the strongest in Lima. She's only eighteen and she
knows that if Alfred and Russell demanded a fight from her, she'd be able to knock them out in less than a minute. She
knows her father's fighting flaws like the back of her hand and Alfred, although strong, is old; his moves are sluggish and
her young agility is no match for him.
It's enough to make anyone feel as if they're God's gift to the earth and sometimes it does get to her. Sometimes she'll just
turn around to Alfred and say, "I don't need anymore training. I'm strong enough."
But the answer is always the same, "You still have locked potential that you need to possess if you're going to start your
own pack, Quinn." And the thought of being just that little bit more stronger, makes her mouth salivate.
The thought of having the strong pack on the East Coast. The thought of having the strongest of werewolves under her
command, protecting their territory. The thought of being the leader of a pack. The thought of leading while her wife stands
by her side, human, a sign that werewolves and human's can co exist. The thought of two tiny cub's running around her feet
as she tries to teach them to hunt, to be strong, to be proud of their heritage.
Fuck, it's enough to send shivers down her spine. The future she had painted for herself was one she desperately sought,
and she knows she'll get it. She knows she'll have the strong pack, the wife, the kids
"it's gonna happen." She whispers to herself with such certainty; refusing to let wrongful convictions change her mind. It'll
happen. It has to. She'll make sure of it.

"You need to focus." Alfred tells her, not unkindly, "If you want all that to happen you need to listen to my instructions."
Quinn stabs the toe of her sneakers against the dirt, "I forgot you could read my thoughts"

Alfred smirks softly to himself, "You shouldn't think so loud, although I do have to agree with you, two small cubs running
around your feet does sound adorable."

And she has the good grace to blush, because that's something she didn't really want to share with anyone, not even
Rachel. It's a guilty pleasure; even though she's 18 she constantly dreams of the day that she'll train in her own children to
be as strong as she. A boy and a girl, perfect symmetry, laced with her genes and DNA, strong and proud.
"Yeah, can we kind of not" She trails off, the blush rushing down to her neck. It's mortifying to know that someone that
she sees as her mentor can see her most precious thoughts and although she isn't really bothered, it's just a guilty
pleasure, after all, she's only a kid herself and the thought of having a child at 18 just makes her want to build a bridge and
promptly jump off of it.
She won't be one of those girls.
"Of course, of course." Alfred claps his hands together, "Now. As you know, New York is a bustling city. It's not like Lima,
far from it, you can't just run around in wolf form and expect not to get caught. There's a lot of woodland here, New York, it's
just a concrete jungle."
"Wet dream tomato"

Alfred's eyebrows furrow, "Excuse me?"

"The lyrics? They sound like" She's completely lost him and she just smirks to herself, "You wouldn't understand, old
man."
"Old man?" He replies playfully, "I might be old but I can still keep up with you, Quinn." They both chuckle and let
themselves bathe in the comfort that lies between them. Quinn always had her defences up when it came to the people
around her; she never really wanted them to know about her or her life. But with Alfred it's different and not just because
he's a werewolf too; he exudes this familiarity that she can't exactly put her finger on. But it puts her at ease. It makes her
feel as if she's sausage rolled in her duvet; safe and secure.

"Now, as I was saying, even though you'll be busy with College and work, the fact you're in such a bustling city won't help
your need to hunt. Your wolf may become restless, so we need to try and find a way for you to quell that need to hunt."

"But if I put it off completely, won't my wolffor lack of a better wordflip out?"
"Far from it. Of course, your wolf won't be happy, but it won't assert itself if you've properly trained yourself. The first rule of
a werewolf is that no matter how strong your wolf, your human side should always control your wolf side."

"So when would I be able to hunt?"

Alfred shrugs, "That's up to your schedule. May it be the weekend, or maybe when you have a few hours free between
classes. You'll have to travel though, so plan your destination and route accordingly. Use subways, use cabs, use your car
to your advantage. Just plan your route in advance so you know how long it will take to get there, to hunt and to get back."
"This sounds more difficult by the second."

Alfred chuckles, "Quinn, you chose the city that never sleeps. If they see a wolf running down Broadway, how do you think
they'd react? There would be pandemonium. After all, it's not everyday you see a wolf running down the crowded streets of
New York, hm? That and what would you eat? You'd need to get out of the city."
"I'd eat some snooty actor too big for his boots." Quinn snorts, "So I plan a route and stick to it?"

"Exactly. Sooner or later you'll have the routine down and your wolf will become used to the change in your hunting
schedule. It's all about balance; you need to learn to assert yourself but also attend to the needs that will keep your wolf
happy. Leave it too long or don't attend to its needs, your wolf may become trigger happy."
"Trigger happy?"

"Your wolf may overpower you. It could make you transform without even being able to control it. You must avoid that at all
cost."

"Great, so I could transform in the middle of class and I'd have no control?"
"You'd have a warning, but the time between warning and transformation is only seconds. If it were to happen, and I'm only
saying this as a precaution, get the hell out of there."
"Yeah"
"You can't allow anyone to know you're a werewolf. Only close family can know. We can't let it out that werewolves roam
along with humans. There would be mass hysteria."
"You seem to know what you're talking about"

Alfred runs a hand through his white locks, a sign of discomfort, "Yes, but that's a story for another time. Right now, we
train. Lets go find a nice juicy rabbit for you not to attack."

Quinn groans, shuffling her feet forward to follow Alfred, "Maaaaan."

Michael Hunter and Leroy Berry officially live together, much to Rachel's dismay, but she still goes to see her 'father' even
if it does make her want to storm out as soon as she sets foot in the house. They've made such a comfort little living
space, a special little bubble; one that she's not privy to and it makes her sick.

Even though she doesn't count Leroy as her father; because honestly, what sort of father is he if he throws his sordid affair
around town? She still gets annoyed by the fact that he blatantly leaves her out of his life.

He lives in the same town, only half an hours drive between his new home and hers. He works at the same place. He
frequents the same grocery store. They see each other in the park. But still, there's an invisible distance between them
that Rachel isn't even sure she can try to mend anymore.

Honestly, she'd love to have her daddy back in her life and although it's only been a few months, it feels as if the door to
dealing with the situation slammed shut and locked up long ago. She tries to tug it back open, but Leroy's fascination with
his new life just makes it that much more difficult.

But Leroy does try. They still have their bi-weekly dinners, they still try to talk and act like nothing's wrong, but that's all it is,
an act. He can see that dangerous shine in his daughter's eye whenever Michael speaks about work or the dinner he
cooked the night before which Leroy absolutely adored. He sees the way her tiny hand clenches around her fork and her
teeth sink into her bottom lip to force back a snide remark. It's baby steps; he knows she's trying.

She's going to New York. He knows it's always been her dream, because even though he's classed as a cheater to family
friends and people around the town, he was still incredibly involved in his daughter's life. He sat up and listened to her rant
in her six year old way about how she was going to go to a big school in New York and be the best one there, about how
she was going to take over Broadway and be the next Barbra Streisand.

He adored his daughter. She was perfection in his eyes. But this new girl; this new closed off girl, he didn't understand.
Obviously, it was his fault, but he'd never seen his daughter's eyes so cold and her tone so cut off. She might have been
trying, but she wasn't trying much.
So when he finds out that Rachel has her audition for Julliard sooner than expected, he calls her.

"Sweetie, I recently heard on the grapevine that you're going to New York soon." His voice is calm and soothing, but his
feet pace the space between the living room and the kitchen like a soldier's march.

"Yes. I have my Julliard audition a week and a half from now."

"Excellent, excellent" He mumbles, but cheerfully. "Uhm. You are aware they don't have a musical theatre program at
Julliard, correct?"
He'd scoured their website and called three separate times to put a nail in that coffin. It was all his daughter wanted to do,
unless her mind had changed drastically over the time he'd left home.
"I'm aware. Both Kurt and I were shocked to learn of this revelation but I won't let it dampen my spirits. Julliard is the school
I want to go to."
"But honey, what classes will you enroll in?"

"Musical Arts with a concentration on vocals."

"I see" Well, it wasn't exactly what she'd decided upon when she was growing up, but it was close to what she wanted,
right? He wasn't so sure, "But didn't you want to do Musical Theatre? After all, you want to be on Broadway."

"I'm well aware, but when I audition for my inevitable role of Evita or Fanny Brice, if they only concentrate on my College
Resume and not on my acting or singing, they're not doing their job correctly."

Well, his daughter certainly was determined, he had to give her that.
"Well okay honey, you do what's best." Then he chews gently at his top lip, then rolls his eyes at himself. He's a grown man
in his forties and he can't even ask his teenage daughter a damn question?
"Was that all? I have plans." She sounds sodetached from the conversation that Leroy feels a prick to his heart. His own
daughter cant even be bothered with him anymore, that much is for certain. She makes it seem like a chore to see him or
talk to him. He always has to make the calls. He always has to make all the dinner plans and reservations. He's always the
one to lean in for the hug at the end of the night.

"Oh, uhm" The front door open and shuts quietly and Leroy glances over his shoulder, smiling sadly at Michael when he
rounds the corner to the living room. "It was nothing honey, I'll let you go."

"Okay. Goodnight."
Dial tone. Leroy lowers his cell and stares at it in the palm of his hand and when he feels the familiar arms wrap around his
waist from behind, he just crumbles.

How was training?

Exhausting as all hell, but it needs to be done. How're you?

Fine. Just had a call from Leroy.

Ah. And how did that go?

It was just awkward, I couldn't wait to get off the phone. He was asking about my Julliard audition and I think he was
going to ask me if he could join me. I know he's my father but the thought of having him there just makes me feel so
unbelievably uncomfortable.
Long text is long. Well, like you said, he's your dad. If he wants to be there, shouldn't you let him?

He cheated on my dad and when my dad found out he promised he'd stop the affair in it's tracks. But he didn't, he lied
and kept doing it. I can't trust him. I can't trust him with such a big event in my life.
Babythis is just a small step. If you keep shoving him away he'll just stay away. Don't you want him there
when you graduate from College or when you take that inevitable first step onto that Broadway stage?

He'd probably bring Michael.

Can we not talk about him, please?

Are you still sore on that subject? Because, Quinn Fabray, even though I can't see you, I can tell you're cringing. Are
you cringing?
Yes.

I fully believe I am psychic. They should do a documentary.

Rachel Berry: She Thinks She's a Psychic but she Just Knows Her Girlfriend's Traits Like The Back of Her
Hand?

You find yourself funny, don't you?

No. I find myself hilarious.

No sex for you, Quinn.

You're aware that taunt doesn't work with me? I can just use my pheromones on you.

Cruel.

You love me.

My poor unfortunate tortured soul does and always will. Are you training tomorrow too?
Yup. Right after school again.
So I can't see you? =(
You'll see plenty of me on the weekend ;)

Quinn Fabray! I look forward to it.

They're a week away from Nationals and Quinn looks even more exhausted than usual. She's slumped in her chair,
yawning in between the lines of the song their trying to nail and barely keeping her eyes open.
When they take a much needed break (Finn is sweating so much that Tina almost landed face first on the floor) Rachel
takes a seat by her girlfriend and kisses the top of her head gently. "You okay?" She asks softly, running hand through
those long locks, scratching Quinn's scalp and barely holds back a smile when she hears Quinn growl quietly, playfully.

"I'm good, just Alfred running my batteries low."

"Why are you training so much?" She glances over her shoulder, hoping that no one heard her. "Are you having problems
again?" Then she lowers her voice, leans forward and in the most serious tone she can muster asks, "Sexual problems?"

"You make it sound like I can't get it up." Quinn chides with a smirk.

"You have nothing to get up."

"Damn, so the Viagra I bought was a waste of money."

Rachel stares, "You're disgusting" Then she chuckles softly and shakes her head, "Is it your urges?"
"Nah, just recalibrating my hunting schedule. I can't hunt as much in New York, so I have to find new ways to appease my
wolf."
"Oh my God!" Rachel's hand snatches back from Quinn's head and before the blonde can even mourn the loss, she
catches sight of Rachel's watering eyes, "I never thought! I just assumed"
"Baby, it's not your fault. It's fine, I can do it."

"But it's such pressure for you." Then she pouts and Quinn melts, "I'm a terrible girlfriend."

"Now you're just fishing for compliments," And the blonde leans forward, pressing a lingering kiss to a tan forehead, lips
brushing over the scar that hides at Rachel's hairline, "You're not terrible, you just tend to think about yourself all the time."
She hears a huff below her and she smirks against her girlfriend's forehead, "Rude."

"Would you have me any other way?" Quinn asks, eyes scanning the rest of the Glee Club. They're all in their own little
bubbles. At first she thought the club would at least be a little suspicious of their relationship, because honestly, to them it
kind of came out of nowhere. But they seem to have taken it all in their strides and they welcomed the relationship with
open arms. Rachel calms down Quinn's serial killer glares and Quinn somehow takes away the speed that was constantly
running through Rachel's veins. They balanced one another out. They were a pair and the Glee Club wouldn't have them
any other way. Except

Her eyes snap to Santana, who's sat right on the other side of the room. Brittany is toying with her ponytail and saying
something inconsequential, but Santana's eyes are boring into hazel and it's setting her on edge. She growls softly
against the tan skin and Rachel stiffens automatically. She leans up and presses her mouth to Quinn's ear, whispering soft
and calming words.

It calms Quinn and her wolf, but the look that Santana has in her eye just puts Quinn on edge.
Santana looks like she's out to destroy something and her wolf just wants to defend her pack.

"Fabray."
Quinn sighs and throws her bag into the backseat of her car, turning to face Santana Lopez as she sidles up to her.

"Lopez, what do you want?"

The cheerleader shrugs her shoulders gently, "Just wanna catch up with my best bud. Y'know, like old times."

Quinn's eyes roll, "I don't have time for this." And she turns, slamming the backdoor shut. Her hand is just about to pull
open the driver side door when Santana's voice stops her. Her hand clenches tightly, nails digging into the palm.

"She'll ruin you, you know."

Quinn lowers her head and takes a few calming breaths. She can't get angry, she can't have her eyes flash gold, she can't
have her bones snap. So she reminds herself of Glee Club and of the way that Rachel's full lips brushed against the shell
of her ear, how that hand felt so soothing as it ran through her hair, scratched her scalp, just like if the girl was actually
scratching behind her wolf's ears.
It calms her, just enough to raise her eyes and stare at her ex best friend, "I know you don't like Rachel, I get it. I get it and
now it's just pathetic. I'm not leaving Rachel just because you don't like her."
"She's a liability."
"To my popularity?" Quinn barks out a laugh, "I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm doing pretty damn fine with her by my
side. And who cares anyway? In a few months we'll be graduating and this rotten school will be just a bad memory."

"Not to your popularity." Santana rests her forearms on the roof of Quinn's car, leaning forward to somehow close the
distance between her and Quinn. But the car is a safe zone. If Santana passes it, Quinn isn't sure if she'd be able to
control herself or her wolf. "She's obsessive. It's borders on compulsive and she drags anyone along with her that wants to
take the journey. When you get to New York, she'll be there for a while, but then she'll meet new friends, stay out, you'll
hardly see each other and when you do it's just a quick hi and bye. Then one day, she'll meet some nice young man on
Broadway and she'll realize she doesn't want you around anymore. You've served her purpose; you kept her sad little
smurf like ass company while she made it big. She'll say thanks for the good times and then you'll be just like this school, a
bad memory."

"Shut the hell up, Santana." Quinn growls, eyes dangerously close to flashing, "You know nothing about Rachel and I's
relationship! We love each other and I'm going to New York because I want to be there, I want to get out of this stupid town
and I want to make something of myself."
"Before her you wanted to go to OSU. She's changed your whole plan. She's dictating your actions, Q and you're too
blindly in love to see it."
"It's not like that all," She growls, low and dangerous, "She made me see I can be someone better, someone worthy of
New York. I only wanted to stay here because I thought that's all I could ever possibly be; a Lima Loser. But Rachel she
she makes me feel like I'm worth something." And Quinn rounds the car, "So when you come up to me and talk like you
know everything about my relationship with her, I get a little mad." She comes to a stop in front of Santana, eyes narrowed,
"And you won't like me when I get mad Lopez, so I'm going to say this once. Back. The fuck. Off."

Santana's eyes dance between Quinn's, slowly taking in what Quinn said. Then she twitches her head to the side and
slowly takes two steps back, "Fine, but don't act like I'm the bad guy here, Quinn. I'm only looking out for you. I know what
Berry's like and her sudden attraction to you seemed suspicious, it still does. I'm just being a good friend, warning you
before you get your heart broken."

"She could never break my heart."

Santana shakes her head slowly, eyes filled with disbelief, "It's gonna happen one day, Q. She's just going to leave."

"No she isn't."

"How can you be so sure?"

Quinn's wolf howls painfully in the back of her head and she clutches at her forehead to fight back the headache that
forces it's way forward, "I just know." And her hand drops, "So just stop it. Stop trying to break us up. Stop trying to act like
a good saint and looking out for me. I can look out for myself. Don't act like you care about me."
"I'm not acting like a good saint, Q. Just a good friend. And if you took one second just to think about what I just said, you'd
realize how much I do care."

Santana walks away and Quinn almost puts a dent in the roof of her Honda.

"Quinn!"
Quinn flicks the page of the magazine she was reading (a magazine on saving horses, she honestly didn't even want to
know) with a soft sigh, "Yeah, Rach?"
"What underwear should I wear to the auditions?"

Quinn's eyebrows furrow, mostly because of the article she was reading made no sense. It must have said Save the
Horses a dozen times in one paragraph alone, "What?"

"What underwear should I wear to the auditions?"

"Does it matter?" She asks back, flicking to the next page, a lovely detailed double paged picture of a horse meets her
eyes, "Are you gonna audition in your duds or something?"
There's silence and she slowly lowers the magazine to her lap, "Rach? You're not planning to audition in your underwear
are you?"
There's a giggle from within the ensuite bathroom, "Of course not, although that's not a bad idea." She growls loud enough
for her mate to hear, "Down girl, it's just an idea. No, I just wondered what would make me feel more comfortable on stage
as I deliver my monologue and song."

"Don't wear a thong." Quinn calls out, returning her attention back to the magazine on her lap."
"And why not?"
"Because you'll have the urge to pull it out between your butt crack and what impression would that give them?"

There's silence and Quinn bites down on her bottom lip to try and not laugh. She knows that Rachel is contemplating the
scenario; would they find it funny? Would it make her seem more liberal? Like she didn't care what she looked like
because she only wanted to do the job at hand?
"Noted."

Quinn snorts.
"So what should I wear?"

Quinn sighs, "I don't know, Rach. Wear something that makes you feel comfortable. What're you wearing right now?"
There's no reply, but Quinn's impressive hearing can pick up the soft shuffling of Rachel's feet against the bathroom floor,
"Rach?"
"I'm not telling you."

Quinn smirks, "I'll tell you if you tell me."

"I know what you're wearing! I saw them when you bent over to pick up the pencil you dropped in fourth period!"

"Eh," She shrugs her shoulders to herself, "Go on, tell me. What're you wearing? I mean, you're comfortable, right?"
"But it's embarrassing."

"Uhmwhy?"
"Because."

"Because why?"
"Quinn Fabray, stop pushing!"

But Quinn's already off the bed, the magazine discarded back onto the bedside table where she'd found it, heading quietly
toward the closed but not locked en suite bathroom door. "You can tell me."

"Why did your voice just get closer?" And Quinn can hear Rachel panic, feet already stomping toward the bathroom
door to lock it, but the blonde's reflexes are too fast and the door is already opened, revealing her mate in all her glory.
"Quinn!"
"Oh my God"

"it's" Rachel snatches a towel from the towel rack and wraps it around her waist tightly, "Laundry day was today and this
was all I had on hand"

"Were those" Quinn chews down hard on her inner cheek, shoulders shaking, "Spongebob panties?"
"I got them two years ago when I was very much in a Spongebob Squarepants stage. You cannot judge me. I've seen your
Pokmon boxers!"
"Yeah, but Pokmon is cool" Her eyes drift of their own accord to her girlfriend's crotch, "Can I see them, again?"

"No!"
"Oh c'mon! I've seen you butt ass naked but you won't let me see your panties?"

Rachel huffs, eyes shining with determination, "You just said they were uncool, so no. I refuse to let you see them."
"You're getting defensive because I called Spongebob uncool?"

"Yes."
"He's a yellow square that sounds like he's on helium."

"He lives in a pineapple under the sea, Quinn! A pineapple! That is cool."

And she can't hold it in any longer, my God she can't, because she can just imagine Rachel wearing those damn panties
on a Julliard stage and saying, "And for my song, I'll be singing the theme to the seminal Nickelodeon Classic,
Spongebob Squarepants, and singing it like it's her Broadway debut."
"You're horrible!" Rachel pouts, turning away from her girlfriend, hand reaching out for one of the many pairs of panties
that line the counter by her bathroom sink. She'd only wanted her girlfriend's opinion, but now said girlfriend was a heap on
the floor. Awesome.
"Oh my God, I can't even!" The blonde wipes tears from her eyes, chuckling sporadically as she straightens herself back
up again, "What is air, honestly?"
"You're in the dog house right now, Quinn."

"Don't you mean wolf house?"

"Oh haha!" Rachel snatches the panties up, clutching them to her chest, sends one last glare in her girlfriend's direction
and says, "Ass." And stomps away, but she knows her attempt at being angry didn't work, because Quinn's just laughing
again, harder than before.

She really needs to work on sounding angry when she swears, not like a 12 year old girl.

Raaaaaaaaaaaaaach.

Are you gonna talk to me?

I can't believe you told me to leave. They're just panties, baby!

I had to rehearse my song and monologue, Quinn. I couldn't do that while you sat there and hummed 'who lives in a
pineapple under the sea?' from my bed.
Quinn? Why are you taking so long to respond?
I couldn't breathe, but I'm all good now XD

I hate you.
You looooove me.

Oh, I'm vastly rethinking that sentiment, my dear wolf.

The mark on your collar would refute that statement.

I hate you. You have me cornered in every respect.

It's what you get by being with a wolf, babeh.

Babeh? Are you being serious? Never mind. I must return to my rehearsals, speak soon.
Wait!

Yes, Quinn?
Are you going to wear those panties, though?

Goodnight, Quinn.
LOL. Goodnight, beautiful.

"How're you feeling?" Alfred asks, coming up beside Quinn's golden wolf. She's exhausted, panting, tongue lolling from
her mouth as she desperately seeks air. They're both exhausted. They've been training for hours and although he's
already on his last legs, he isn't willing to cut the training session short. It's just another factor they both have to overcome;
wolves shouldn't feel the exhaustion, they should use it to their advantage, turn it into a strength.

"Like I just ran forty miles without stopping?"

"That's because you did," Alfred's wolf huffs through its snout and pads its front paws out, softly bringing it to the ground,
"Well done, I'm very proud."
"We still have to run back yet," Quinn's voice groans through his mind and he wishes he could laugh as her strong body
collapses to the ground, sending flecks of dirt into the air, "I don't think I'll be able to make it. Carry me."

"You're the Alpha, Quinn. You should carry me."

"Dream on, Alf." Quinn's nose snuffs at the ground; she can smell a catch that's just dying to be caught. While she was
running she didn't think about hunting, or eating, or the thought of sinking her sharp teeth into the neck of a nice hare, and it
was nice. The ache she'd been feeling all week thanks to Alfred's rule of 'No hunting!' was beginning to take it's toll on her.
Her wolf was getting antsy and it was driving her human side up the wall. The howling was intolerable and the thought of
having it their while she was in New York drove her insane.

"It'll get easier," Alfred comments softly, obviously listening in on Quinn's thoughts, "Your wolf is still becoming
accustomed to the change. It'll calm down in a few days."
"I have to go to New York tomorrow for Nationals. Will it impact my mood on stage?"

"Not if you command it to calm down. Keep in mind, you're in control of your wolf, Quinn. Your wolf doesn't control you,
Alpha or not, it doesn't have the right. Werewolves have to learn the balance, you're just on the long road finding that.
You'll get there eventually."
"I hope it's soon, all of this running is killing me."

"Would you prefer to run or hear that terrible howling in your head?"

"God, neither"

Alfred chuckle, pushing himself back up to his full height and Quinn groans. She knows she has to run back, all forty miles
of it, but the way Alfred jumps around her, nipping at her neck and ears playfully to get her up just makes her chuckle. He
might be over eighty, but he's a damn child on the inside.

They're all panicking, they've all been panicking since they arrived at the airport, since they got on the plane, since they
landed at JFK. No one is talking, no matter how hard Mr. Schue tries to keep their spirits high. They were here last year,
same day, same place and they lost. This is their last year, their last chance. There was no 'we can win next year, guys!'

Glee Club rested on their shoulders. If they didn't win, Figgins would say bye bye to the club and even though more than
half of the club were graduating, the remainder of New Directions would be left with nowhere to go.

They had to get one major win. They needed to.

The expected a pep talk, Mr. Schue needed the help, but the one to give the pep talk wasn't there. Rachel Berry was at
her Julliard audition, so weirdly, everyone turns to Quinn for the talk. She just stutters over a few words and says, "We can
do this." Before looking away, cheeks flushed; she never was a good public speaker.

But it does seem to calm down the rest of the club and they turn to Mr. Schue for their room details. Obviously the couples
in the club were split up; Quinn and Rachel, Santana and Brittany (because even if they weren't dating, they were certainly
fucking), Tina and Mike and Kurt and Blaine.
"Oh give me strength," Quinn groans, snatching the key card from Mr. Schuester's hand when he tells her with a big grin
that she wants to rip off his face, that her roomie is no other than Santana fucking Lopez. "Joy."

"I don't snore, Fabray." Santana snatches the key card from Quinn's hand, "So don't worry. I'm going to be an awesome
roommate."
She watches Santana pick up her suitcase and head toward the hotel elevator, a bounce in her step, "Kill me now."

Was her heart suppose to be going this fast? Because she feels like she's dying. Seriously, was she having a heart
attack? Or maybe a stroke? Oh my God, before she even got up on stage she was going to flat line in her seat.

"I can do this" She whispers to herself, commanding her heart to slow down. She was born for this, she was born for this
school, she was born with the talent to get in. "I can do this."

"Nervous?" A brunette asks beside her. She has a kind smile and her blue eyes seem to shine under the waiting room
lights, "I've been here two hours and I've already felt like I was going to die a couple times."

Rachel chuckles softly, "I feel like I'm having a heart attack," She places her hand over her head, fingertips brushing the
mark on her collarbone. She wishes Quinn could be here, she'd offer the support she needed. That voice would soothe
her, her touch would calm her. "I don't think I've ever been this nervous before."
"It's a pretty big deal," The girl nods, "Apparently they only take a limited number a year; you have to be extraordinarily
talented to get into Julliard."
"I'm aware" She mumbles, because she knows. Kurt had told her almost a thousand times before he went for his own
audition. Apparently it had gone well, but the professors that had been at his audition had given nothing away. They had
perfected their poker faces over the years.

She feels herself panicking again. She just wants to get it over and done with, she wants to get across the city and be with
her Glee Club, her little sanctuary, the place where she knows she's the best singer. She feels like she's in limbo.
"What're you going to sing?" The girl asks, leaning forward to catch her wandering eyes, "I only ask because I heard the
judges kind of expect certain things."

"You mean like Broadway classics?"

The girl chuckles, "Of course."

"I've chosen something appropriate. Something that will both show my range and how expansive my repertoire is."
"Ah," Blue eyes sparkle, "You're not giving anything away."

"I'm afraid not," Rachel smiles, "And what about you?"

"Not giving anything away, either."

They stare at one another and it instantly clicks for Rachel. Even though this girl is the only one she's even spoken to, she
knows that she's the competition. There's something hidden in those blue eyes, in that cocky smirk; the girl knows she's
good and she's just weighing out the competition.
A door opens and both girl's head snap up, along with over a dozen other patiently waiting auditionees, but it's the wrong
door and instantly the heads drop back down again, hands messing with cell phones, fingers thumbing through
magazines, feet tapping to the beat in their earphones, mouths wording the lyrics to their chosen song.

"Rachel?" Rachel's head snaps up. Leroy Berry and Michael Hunter both stand there by the open door, smiling
sheepishly, "Can we come in?" Leroy whispers, for some reason, almost as if he's intruding in one a church service or
something.
"What" She glances at the girl beside her, then stands and storms over to the two men, "What're you doing here?"

Michael clears his throat, "Your father wanted to be herebuthe never really had the chance to ask your permission.
We know that Hiram couldn't be here because he had to work but-,"

"What do you even know about my father?" She snaps, brown eyes landing on the scarred man, but then she sighs and
shakes her head, "Sorry. Go on."

But Leroy takes over, earning a sigh of relief from Michael who feels as if he's been attacked all over again. He hates it
when Rachel gets that look in her eyes; she seems so defensive and tense, ready to fight. It honestly frightens him.

"I wanted to be here for you, Rach. I know you don't see me as much of a father right now, but you're still my baby girl and I
want to be here while you take this huge step."

He sounds so utterly genuine and Rachel feels something inside her break. She wants him to leave, she wants him to go
back to Lima and leave her the hell alone. She doesn't want anyone hear because what if she sucks? What if they tell her
she isn't good enough? What if she gets through the whole audition, thinking everything went smoothly, for them to turn
around and tell her she was their worst audition of the day.

She doesn't want Leroy and Michael to be there to see that.

"I" But Leroy's eyes are shining and she can see the camera he has clutched in his hans. He so desperately wants to
stay and by the looks of it, so does Michael, he has a camera too, a digital one just popping out of the pocket of his jeans.
"Sure."

Leroy grins and steps forward to engulf her in a hug, but when she steps back he knows he's gone to far. He's lucky
enough to get the go ahead to stay; he knew it was a bad idea just to show up, throwing her off her game, but he's glad he
did. He's glad Michael put the idea into his head, because now he can be there for another huge part of his daughter's life
and know that he belongs there.

They have a few hours to spare before they have to set off to the venue, so Mr. Schue uses it as downtime for the club.
"You guys have worked so hard these past few weeks, so use this time to just chill out and relax." Then he pauses, "I just
need to make a call." And leaves, because he can't spend two minutes without talking to Emma and hearing the soft
breathing of their newborn baby.
So Quinn stays in her room, pulls out a good book and just reads. She can feel the pull in her insides and she doesn't
know if it's because she's beyond nervous or because her wolf is hungry as hell. She wants to order room service, but she
knows that when Santana lands eyes on the three medium rare stakes, two plates of fries and a whole bottle of ketchup,
she'll assume she's comfort eating because she got her ass dumped.
She didn't need Santana up in her face right now. Her wolf is kind of on edge and if Santana says something, anything that
rubs her up the wrong way, she'll know both her and her wolf will snap.
She can't let it happen. So she soothes herself with Catcher in the Rye, stuffs her earphones in her ears and just lets
herself melt into calm. But then a thought niggles away at her and her wolf is almost nudging her with the snout of her nose.

She knows what her wolf is trying to tell her, so she grabs her phone, types out a text and sends it. The wolf is sated, back
to its original prowling and she returns back to her book.

It's only twenty minutes later when Santana returns to the room, hair mused and lips kissed swollen does Quinn look up
from her book. "Have fun?" She asks softly, because if she's sharing a room with the girl, she can't exactly ignore her.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

The fact that Santana still tries to hide the fact she's a huge lesbian, is just laughable. She wants to ask her why she keeps
denying it, but she knows that Santana just has a sarcastic quip ready on the tip of her tongue. "I'm Britt-sexual, Q."
She rolls her eyes and only then does her eyes catch the blinking notification light on her phone.

"She nagging you for updates?" Santana mutters sarcastically, pulling out the outfit for Nationals from her suitcase. Quinn
rightly ignores her, because she really isn't in the mood for a confrontation. Santana thrives on it. She isn't willing to give
her that satisfaction.

I'm nervous! The girl next to me keeps asking me what song and monologue I'm performing, I feel as if she's my
audition enemy! She's evil! I can see it in those eyes!
Quinn fights off a giggle, because she knows that Santana will say something like 'barf' or 'shut the hell up'.

You're better than her. You're better than everyone. You can do it, I'm proud of you.

I wish you were here, Quinn

I'm with you in spirit, now go get 'em tiger!

Leroy is here
Wait, what?
Quinn furrows her eyebrows and Santana catches onto it instantly; something is wrong. Rachel has said something wrong
and it's set Quinn on edge, she can tell because Quinn's finally put that book down onto the bed, she's sitting up against
the headboard instead, her eyes are narrowed.

It's already begun.

Leroy just turned up out of the blue. I was talking to 'audition enemy' and he was just stood there with Michael.
Wait, Michael is there too?

Yeah. They both said they wanted to be here, they have cameras and everything, wanting to document the audition.
Are you okay with that? Will they be going to Nationals too? I don't think I can deal with seeing Michael with the
state of mind I have right now.

Quinn looks panicked and Santana frowns, something is going on, Rachel is saying something to make her friend panic.
She's on edge, she desperately wants to see what that infuriating little midget is saying, but she can't exactly grab the
phone out of Quinn's hand; she's been on the opposite end of Quinn's rage, she doesn't want it again.
Even though she could floor the bitch in two seconds flat. She's done it once, she can do it again.

I'm more nervous now that they're here. I wasn't anticipating it. I just wish he hadn't turned up but I couldn't exactly turn
him away. He may have broken my heart but he's travelled all the way from Lima to be here. I'm not sure about
Nationals though, I don't think he knows its on the same day.
If you can, try to stop them from coming if they find out. My wolf is rabid as it is, if I see Michael, I might flip.

I'll try okay? I'll try.

Okay, thanks baby. Good luck.

I think I need it now xxx

Santana waits for a few moments after Quinn puts her phone back down onto the bed before asking, "Trouble in
paradise?"
Quinn's eyes flash dangerously, "No, she's just worried about her audition."
Santana rolls her eyes and grabs the shoes for her outfit, "I'm sure she'll do it." She heads toward the bathroom door and
disappears inside, "She might be a pain in the ass but she has the talent."

And Quinn's just confused because was that a compliment?

"Sophia Richmond?"

The brunette beside her brightens up significantly when a six foot something blonde boy comes to the door with a
beaming smile. She grabs her bag and smiles down at Rachel as she rises to her feet, "Wish me luck?"

"Luck." Rachel mumbles back quietly, even though she doesn't really want to give it, but she's a professional, she won't be
spiteful. The trio watch as the newly dubbed Sophia disappears into the auditorium with a half drooling blonde boy and
only break contact when Rachel sighs.
"You okay, sweetheart?" Leroy asks, barely keeping his hand back from resting it on Rachel's shoulder.

"I just need a drink of water," She can't show him she's worried or upset, "Just to get my voice ready."
"I'll go get you one," He replies, smiling softly before rising to his feet and disappearing out of the room. The number has
diminished from fourteen to eleven and she has no idea when she's going next. Her heart is pounding desperately in her
chest and even though Quinn's texts calmed her significantly, that was over an hour ago, and now the nerves had come
back full force.
"You shouldn't be nervous," Her eyes snap to Michael, he's fiddling with the camera that sits in his lap, "I've heard you
sing. You know, the recordings on your dad's phone? You're really talented."
"Yes, wellmy voice has come along since those half hashed recordings."

An awkward silence follows and while Michael contemplates his next move, desperately trying to find some common
ground with the girl, Rachel mentally berates herself; he's not the enemy here. Well, he is, but he's trying to reach out to
her. She's never this cruel, so why does it have to show on one of the best days of her young life?
"So you'll fly through the audition, right?" Her eyes slide back to him, taking in the grey of his eyes before floating down to
the scars that mar his neck, "Your voice has come on so muchlike you said."
"I suppose so, but then again, that doesn't stop the nerves."

Michael nodded, "Then why did your dad go to get you water? Are you upset?"
"How do you know about that?"

The man smiles softly, "He never shuts up about you, it's always, Rachel this, Rachel that. Rachel's gonna be a big star, I
can feel it." He chuckles, "He told me some old stories about you from when you were only a little girl. Like how you'd
always get a glass of water if you were upset."
"Yeah" Rachel whispers, glancing down at her lap, squeezing the palms of her hand together. Even though Leroy
destroyed her family, he still talked about her like she was the light of his world. And she treated him like he was just dirt.
But didn't he deserve that? He ripped apart something so special to her, doesn't he deserve to feel the pain that goes
along with his actions?
"Why are you upset?"

"I don't want either of you here" Rachel whispers, "It's making me more nervous and honestly I don't think Leroy
deserves to share this with me."

"Understandable"
"My dad should be here, but he had to work, so"

"I understand that. Look, RachelI know you don't approve of me," He shuffles in his seat, turning to face her fully, but she
won't look up from her lap, so he lowers his head, desperately trying to catch her wandering eyes. "I'm not trying to be
another dad to you, far from it, you already have two dads that adore you, that raised you. I can't compete with that nor do I
want to. I just.. want to try be a part of your life. I love your father so much, and if he'll have meI'll hopefully be here for a
while."

"What if I don't want you to be a part of my life?" She glances up at him, "You're the man that tore my dad's apart. You're
the man that makes me live in a broken home. You're the man that makes my dad cry each and every night."

He nods sadly, eyes falling, "And I'm ashamed but" He sighs softly, "I'm not going to talk to you like you're stupid or that
you don't understand what I feel because I'm sure you feel it with your girlfriend. What if Quinn was with someone else, but
you shared that strong connection with one another? Would you go for it? Or let it be?"
"You can't ask me that" She whispers furiously, tears welling in her ears, "Don't you dare ask me that. Don't you dare
use my relationship as an excuse."

"I-I'm sorry"
"Just" She takes a shaky breath, "Don't mention Quinn again, you have no right."

"I'm sorryI didn't mean to upset you."

Leroy returns shortly after and he can feel the tension as soon as he walks into the room. Rachel looks as if she's about to
cry and Michael looks guilty as all hell, but Leroy doesn't say anything, because he knows how his daughter works. So he
hands her the bottle of water, sits down between the two people he loves and watches as half a bottle gets drunk in less
than fifteen seconds.

They're all on the bus, headed for Nationals and she hasn't heard a word from Rachel in just over two hours. She wants to
text, desperately in fact, but knowing Rachel she wouldn't have put her phone on silent and how cringe worthy would it be if
the Spongebob Squarepants theme tune Quinn had put as her text alert went off in the middle of a very important
audition?
My God, she'd be in the wolf house forever.

"Chew anymore of your nail off and you'll go through your whole hand." Santana quips from the seat across from her.
Brittany is beside her, staring out of the window and playing intermittent bouts of I Spy when there's a lag in the
conversation.
"I'm just nervous. I'm allowed to be nervous."

"Jus' sayin', Blondie." Santana and Quinn both rolls their eyes and it freaks the blonde out as to how similar both her and
the Cheerio are. They're almost like twins in some respects; they thrive on power and the think alike. It's eerie. Really
fucking eerie.
Then there's silence and after three rounds of I Spy which Brittany won (Santana ordered Quinn to lose on purpose)
Santana opens her mouth again.
"You nervous about Nationals?"

"Kind of, more nervous about" Then she stops, because why the hell would Santana care? "Nothing you care about."
"I'm just looking out for you, you know."

Quinn's eyes dart from the bus window to Santana, locking eyes with strong brown, "You might think I'm being an asshole
but honestly I don't think Berry deserves you. I don't like how she just walked in and took you from me and Britt. We were
always by your side, always, we were the Unholy Trinity and when she came along, you just disappeared." Santana shrugs
her shoulders, confusion swirling in her eyes, "How come? Your two best friends that have stood by you since we were
little kids suddenly get tossed aside because you're getting some? You know how much it hurt? A fuckin' lot, Q. I should
just stand by and watch as Rachel swans back out of your life as quickly as she walked into it, but I can't, because I might
be a bitch, but I'm not a cruel bitch. "
"Why do you think she's just going to walk back out? Why can't you just accept the fact that she's going to be in my life for
a very long time."
"You saw how she bounced from Finn to Puck and back again. Her emotional connections to relationships is retarded at
best. She'll do it to you too. Who knows? Before she goes to New York she might tell Finn he's good enough to go to
Julliard and demand he audition."

"It's not like that." Quinn hisses, leaning forward, "You know nothing about Rachel and I's relationship. Nothing. And if you
cared so much for me, you'd stand by me and be happy for me. Rachel makes me the happiest I've been in a very long
time, Santana. She makes me feel like I'm not a" Beast. "Lima loser. I'm special to her and she's special to me. Just
pleasedeal with it and if you don't, just do it on your own time. Don't try mess up something that has nothing to do with
you. Please."
And there's silence, because Quinn feels like crying and Santana feels something she hadn't felt since Brittany and Artie
got together.
Defeat.

She's called and that same blonde boy comes to the door to collect her. Leroy and Michael follow, but keep a few steps
behind as she adjusts her dress, makes sure her hair is in place and that she has her best smile on. Things might be
going downhill but she won't let it ruin her audition day. No way in hell. She's waited years for this. She's gonna fucking
storm that auditorium and blow them all away.
The blonde boy smiles gently at her as she passes, then nods at both Michael and Leroy before walking down toward the
stage.

Two men and a woman sit behind a lit desk, papers strewn around them, quietly talking amongst themselves as Leroy and
Michael seat them and Rachel climbs to the stage.

And she's instantly in awe, she takes in those huge stage lights, the spotlight that she dreams day and night about
standing in. And with determined steps she heads centre forward and waits patiently as those heads pop up to look at
her.
"Rachel Berry?" One of the men asks, adjusting the glasses at the edge of his nose.

"That is correct." Straight and to the point; don't go on a ramble about how thrilling it is to be able to audition. Nothey'd
see her as a nut job, Quinn has told her more than enough times that while her rambles are cute she sounds like she's
escaped from a mental asylum.
She isn't shocked when they don't ask question, she hardly expected it, instead the woman asks, "And what is your
monologue?"
"From a piece called Flight 175 by Benjamin Whitley."

The man with the glasses looks oddly intrigued, but she doesn't have the chance to ask about it because the other man, a
stumpy looking fellow with large expressive eyes motions her with his hand to 'get on with it'.

So she does.
She lowers her head, chin to chest and gets into the character that Benjamin had so uniquely created. She delves into the
emotions, to the feelings and just like she said all those years ago to that yearbook camera man, she cries on demand.
Tears well her eyes and slowly she looks up, locking eyes with the man that had shown intrigue in her choice of
monologue and lets the words soar.

"We fought as hard as we could, but no matter how hard we tried we knew that the scenario couldn't be changed. We
knew that the plane was under their control and that no matter what we did, we couldn't get that control back. People
were terrified, sobbing, begging, screaming, others bleeding, what sort of man power did we have to take back a plane?
The idea was stupid. I knew that. We all knew that. So we all resigned ourselves to a fate that we couldn't deny. We knew
we were going to die. We knew that on this day, in just a few moments, we'd be dead. New York was already on the
horizon and although we didn't know what was going to happen, we knew we were going to hit something. So I clutched
onto the picture in my hand and waited, eyes staring down at that now brittle picture. Never would I be able to see my
husband again, never would I be able to tuck my children into bed and kiss them goodnight. Never would I be able to
take them to school or ask how their day was. Never would I be able to look my husband in the eyes and tell him how
much I loved him. All I could do was kiss that picture, whisper I love you and listen to the screams that filled the air
around me."
She gasps for air, stepping back slightly. She'd never felt so much emotion before, of course, she rehearsed day and
night, but here, now, that emotion was so raw and gut wrenching. She fights back a sob and wipes her eyes, quickly
composing herself and locking eyes with the three judges.
They don't look fazed, but she knows that they're meant to stay pokerfaced.

"Thank you. And your song?"

She smiles.

"Where's Rachel?" Finn asks, trying but failing to knot his tie, "Shouldn't she be here by now? We're on in like thirty
minutes."

"Twenty-five, actually." Kurt mutters, fiddling with his boyfriend's bowtie, "She'll be here. She has to be. She won't miss this
one."

"And how can you be so sure?" Mercedes asks, hands on her hips, diva look all up in her face.
"Because she's Rachel Berry." Quinn replies softly, glancing at Mercedes, "She'd never miss a chance to be on stage.
Never."
The fierce belief that Quinn has for her girlfriend sates the group, but only for a few minutes.

Ten minutes and Rachel still hasn't showed up. Mercedes takes to saying she'll take the brunette's solo, Santana says she
wants it too. They rock paper and scissor for the opportunity.
Quinn watches on and she's only oddly amused when Mercedes wins.

Five minutes.

"We're doomed, she isn't showing up." Puck mutters, running his hand through his Mohawk, "We're fucked, we're totally
fucked."

"Noah, I don't appreciate the language."

All heads snap to curtain behind them and out slips a little smiling Rachel Berry, "I told you I'd be here."

Quinn grins and rushes over to the girl before anyone can even get close, wrapping her arms around the singers waist and
twirling her around. The club watch on, watching as Rachel squeals and wraps her arms around Quinn's neck, softly
placing a kiss to waiting lips.
"How'd it go?" The blonde asks quietly.

And Rachel just smiles, "Great."

On that final note, they all hold hands. Each and every member of the club holds hands as they sing that final note. The
note brings the New Directions story to an end, because even though some of them will remain, they all won't be together
again, they won't share this intimacy, the joy, the laughter as they storm their way through another National competition.

So when Santana grasps Brittany and Quinn's hand, Quinn doesn't fight back, instead she locks eyes with Santana and
nods, because even though nothing is said, there's still an unsaid dtente between them.

The war is over.

For now.

Rachel is crying too hard to get anything coherent out of her, like seriously, the front of Quinn's white dress is patched grey
with tears and the inevitable snot. So she just tries to fight back the cringe, even though she's crying herself as she hugs
her girlfriend.
They came second.

It's enough of a win for them to be ecstatic and the priceless look on Vocal Adrenaline's face as they're placed in fourth is
enough to send both Puck and Santana into an almighty howl of laughter and the pity party begins for their rivals. Puck and
Santana goad them when they sneer as they pass and Quinn just watches, trying to hold back the laughter as Puck all but
rips his pants down in the middle of a still bustling venue and shows them his backside.
Santana's close behind showing her own backside but a stern look from Brittany puts an end to that.
"We won baby"

"I know" Rachel sobs against her chest.

"Then why do you sound upset?"

"We should have placed first!"

Rachel Berry, ever the perfectionist.

"Right there, oh my God" Rachel arches her back, hands clutching at a sweaty back as two fingers do magical things
between her legs. Quinn's thumb skims her clit, teasing it, fucking it ever so gently and it sends shocks up and down
Rachel's legs. She's barely holding on, she can feel her orgasm right around the corner, but Quinn won't push her over the
edge, not yet.

"Feel good, Rach?" She hears against her neck, hot breath against skin, lips brushing, almost like an electric jolt.
"So good."

"Am I fucking you good, Rach?"

"So fucking good"

"Are you going to scream for me when you come?"

"I-I," She licks her lips, wrapping her legs around Quinn's naked waist, "Tina and Mercedesnext door"
Quinn bites down over her mark and Rachel can't fight back the howl and when those fingers speed up between her legs,
twisting and scissoring, pulling her apart from the inside out, she knows she can't deny the primal need that Quinn and her
wolf want.
"Let them hear" Rachel whispers, eyes locked on the side of Quinn's face as she licks and nips at the mark, "Let them
hear how good Quinn Fabray fucked Rachel Berry."
And Quinn growls and forces her fingers deeper, teasing those already tensing walls, palm to clit, rubbing furiously,
pumping violently. The nails dig deeper into her back and the touch alone sends her close to the edge. She watches as
Rachel falls apart, gasping for air, clutching her closer, biting her lips, squeezing her eyes shut until Quinn finds that
special spot that just ruins her.
And she screams and shudders and thanks God and Quinn for those fucking amazing fingers that she was bestowed with
and Quinn follows right behind her, grinding down on that strong muscle of Rachel's thigh, clit bumping against slick skin
as she rides out her orgasm.

"Oh my" Rachel gulps, hips still moving gently against Quinn's still fingers in a rocking motion, riding out the final waves
of her orgasm, "Moses"

Quinn snorts against her chest before pressing a soft kiss to a breast, "You okay?"
"Incoherent. But fine."

And Quinn laughs again, removing her fingers gently before sucking them clean and Rachel watches with dazed eyes.
She has an odd fascination with watching Quinn suck her come off her fingers, but it's a fascination that Quinn is only
willing to do for her girlfriend.
She settles beside Rachel, on her back, opening up her arms and locking them around the small quaking body as it wraps
itself around her.
"Soyou gonna tell me how your auditon went?"

After their second place win at Nationals, they hadn't really had the time to talk about Rachel's Julliard audition or Leroy
and Michael for that matter. But Rachel seemed fine, she didn't seem upset or angered by their surprise arrival.

"I feel it went well."

"And Leroy and Michael?"

"Staying in a separate hotel and going back to Lima tomorrow morning. They came to Nationals, but I told them they were
barred from backstage. They understood."

"Thank God" Quinn growls softly, dotting a kiss to Rachel's sweaty forehead, "So are you okay with them?"
She hears Rachel sighs softly against her neck, "Not okay, justagreeable. I can't exactly stop their relationship and from
the conversation I had with Michael, it doesn't seem like he's going anyway."
"Joy."

"Hm."
"You never did tell me what you auditioned with, you know."

"There was a reason for that, Quinn. You may have tried to change my mind about either of choices."
"I wouldn't have!"

"Oh you would have."

Quinn huffs, "So what were they?"

"I spoke a beautifuly written monologue from Flight 175; a very underated play written by Benjamin Whitley. I think one of
the judges knew the play, he seemed awfully interested."

"Well that's good," She dotted another kiss to Rachel's forehead, "And the song?"
Silence.

"Rach?"
"She is the Sunlight"

Quinn bites softly at her bottom lip, heat gathering behind her eyes as she starves off the need to cry, "R-Really?"
"I feel as if it's my go to songand because it holds such precious memories to me, I have the emotional connection to
sing it."

"And?"
"Well, the judges gave nothing away, but I saw a tissue."

Quinn laughs through tears, pulling Rachel's face up with a crooked finger beneath her chin, "I love you" And she
presses a kiss to Rachel's waiting lips and when she feels her girlfriend's lips curl against hers in a smile, she melts,
because she knows Rachel loves her too.
"Oh..." Quinn smirks to herself, "Did you wear those panties...?"

"...Yes, now shut up and sleep."

"Quinn."

"Father."
"Quinn."

"Mother."
Judy and Russell Fabray stand before her. She's just walked through the door from Nationals and her suitcase still sits
abandoned by the bottom step. Her parents look morbid, eyes narrowed to slits and she quickly recounts what she did
before she went away.

Her room was clean. She'd done the dishes. She hadn't almost killed Alfred. She was good
"Can you tell me what's wrong? You guys are freaking me out."

Russell pulls his hand from behind his back, brandishing a thick white envelope with her name stamped right on the front.
The NYU logo pressed delicately to the top right corner.

"Oh fuck."
"Language," Judy chides, taking the envelope and handing it to her daughter. "Open it before I die. I've been staring at it
for a day, already."
She's too nervous to laugh, but almost instinctively, her body leans forward and grabs the envelope. Her parents watch
quietly, attentively as she pulls open the seal and pulls the letter from the front of the bundle.
Hazel eyes roam the page, then slowly, she lowers the letter to the couch and sighs.

"Oh fuck."
"Russell! Language!"

Quinn stands, walks into the kitchen and just stands there.

"Cover your ears." They hear, only moments before a great long, "FUCKING HELL YES!" rings through the house.

"Lucy Quinn Fabray!"

"What if I wasn't accepted?"

Quinn sighs, "You were accepted at NYU too. I know it's not as good a school as Julliard butyou were still accepted."
"I know butJulliard is my dream school."

"I know baby."

Rachel sighs, chewing on the tip of her thumbnail, "I can't do it."
"Do you want me to?"

"Nono" She shakes her head, "Actually yes. Wait, no."

"Make your mind up," Quinn chuckles softly, picking up the thick envelope from Rachel's desk. It'd been sat there since
that afternoon when Hiram had gotten hold of it and ever since, Rachel hadn't been able to touch it, even after she called
Quinn around in a state of panic.
Quinn thought she was dying she sounded that agitated so she'd rushed straight over.
"Baby, you need to open it or you'll never know."

"When I open that, my dreams will either come true or be completely destroyed. It's too big a deal, Quinn."
"I know, but you have to take that step. I'm here, I'll open it along with you."

Rachel nods slowly, lowering her hand from her mouth, "Okay, I can do this." She takes the envelope from her girlfriend's
hand, weighing it between both hands, "It feels light, oh my God, I've been rejected."

The blonde's eyes roll, "Open the damn letter."

"Quinn Fabray" Rachel frowns, but opens it anyway, slowly, tentatively, almost as if it's a damn bomb. But then a letter is
sliding out and brown eyes are reading the words as if they're telling her the meaning of life.
"And?" Quinn asks, because it's been two minutes and Rachel is never quiet for that long. Even in her sleep. "And?"

"I" She swallows, eyes shining with unshed tears, and Quinn watches her throat bob with a bated breath, "I didn't get
through."

"Oh my GodI'm"
Then Rachel's eyes are shining, "And that stellar acting got me into Julliard."

"Oh my God!"
And Rachel's giggling because Quinn tackles her to the bed and drops kiss upon kiss on her face until she can't take it
anymore.
"I knew you could do it!" And Rachel just smiles, because she knew Quinn believed in her and that's all she ever needed
to succeed.

"Well, that's the last of it." Hiram huffs, bumping his backside down onto the trunk of Rachel's car, "I forgot you had so
much stuff"
Russell chuckles beside him, "She's a girl, what do you expect, Hiram?"

"You're not wrong there," He smiles, engulfing his daughter in a hug, "You take care okay?"
Rachel hasn't stopped sobbing since graduation. Quinn was fine with it because now she could finally say goodbye to
Lima, Ohio with a very stiff middle finger, but Rachel had taken it really hard. She sobbed as she hugged every one of
New Directions goodbye, including Finn who cried just as hard.

"You're a star, you can do it." He'd said with such ferocity and Quinn had smiled, because even though they'd been
through tough times, he was still an amazing friend.
"I'll see you in New York." Kurt had said, fresh from his rejection from Julliard but acceptance at NYU for fashion. "I'll
make you a beautiful dress for your first Tony event."
Brittany had hugged her so tightly that she couldn't breathe, it took both Santana and Quinn to pull the dancing blonde
from her. "You better Skype with me!"
"I will, Brittany." She smiled, before turning her attention to Santana who simply rolled her eyes and muttered a half
hearted good luck. "Thank you, Santana. Good luck at UCLA."
"Yeah, yeah"

But although she'd offered a half hearted goodbye with Rachel, Santana had hugged Quinn, whispered something in
her ear and walked off, pinkie linked with Brittany.
"What was that about?" She'd asked, coming to a stop beside her girlfriend.
And Quinn just smiled, "She told me she's always got my back." And when Santana and Brittany disappeared from
view she sighed, "And I've got hers."
"You can do this, okay?" Hiram says, hands planted on his daughter's shoulders, "You're strong and I have no doubt in my
mind you'll take New York by storm."

"Dad"
"No, nolet me get it out before I cry" He chuckles softly, "I know I haven't given you the time you needed these past few
months, being caught up with your father and everything, butI've never been so proud of you as I am right at this
moment."

And Rachel breaks down, clutching to her dad as he sobs against her hair, "I love you, sweetie."
"Love you too, dad." She sobs right back, clutching him closer.

Quinn smiles and turns her own family, which include her parents and the Noble's, "SoI guess I'm off."
"Remember your training," Alfred whispers, tapping his finger to his nose, because even though it needs to be spoken
about, they can't let a sobbing Hiram Berry overhear. Not yet. "If you ever need any help, you have my number. We're only
a phone call away, don't you forget that."

"I know." Quinn smiles, wrapping Alfred in a hug, "Thank youfor everything."
And then she envelops Cybil in a fierce hug, "Thanks for all your helpwithy'know."

Cybil chuckles softly and wraps her arms around Quinn's body, "It was my pleasure, Quinn. And just like my husband said,
I'll always be here for you, don't you forget that, okay?"

And the blonde nods, smiling through tears, "I know. I won't forget."
She turns back just in time to see Rachel pull away from her father, tears streaking her cheeks and the inevitable watery
nose. "Gross" Quinn smirks, standing beside Rachel and kissing her temple softly.
"Shut up" She mumbles, sniffling and wiping her nose with the tissue that her father hands to her. "Ready to go?" She
asks, tears sufficiently under control for the time being.
And Quinn nods, shaking Hiram's hand before being pulled into a hug, "Take care of her." He whispers strongly, "Please
take care of my baby girl."
"I willI promise."

Rachel is enveloped in a four way hug and both Quinn and Hiram laugh as they pull away from one another. Rachel is so
tiny, imprisoned between four towering people as they cuddle and wish her good luck. But there's something in Russell's
eye as he pulls her away for just a second, whispers in her ear and brings a fresh wave of tears right back to her eyes.
And it's only in the car, when Quinn is pulling down the road, Rachel waving to them out of the window does she ask,
"What did my father say?"
Rachel smiles and pulls away from the window, letting her hand drift to Quinn's over the gear stick, the tips of her fingers
ghosting over a soft pale hand, "He told me he loved me and that he's never been more proud of me."
Quinn smiles, "My dad adores you."

"He should do. After all, I'll be giving him grandbaby wolves."
The car swerves ever so gently, "Uh"

"Oh please, you're not the only one that mumbles in your sleep."
And Quinn blushes, but then Rachel is picking up her hand and bringing it to her lips, kissing each individual knuckle in a
silent declaration of love and as they drive into the horizon, both girls know that their adventure has only just begun.
In New York.

The monologue from the Flight 175 play was taken from a play that I wrote and directed for my A Level drama
class. I played the character from where that monologue is spoken.
*Chapter 11*: Shadow
It had taken five months; five months since the beginning of their first year at college for the quiet calm to finally shatter.
Their honeymoon period was effectively over; a fact that both knew, but that only one chose to acknowledge.
Quite loudly.

"I want to bite her face off." Quinn growls, pacing the cosy confines of their front room. Her eyes flicker from hazel to
golden sporadically, fists clenching when each new fresh vision filters into her mind and shatters any semblance of calm
she has.
"A bit extreme, don't you think?" Comes a voice from the battered and worn brown leather couch she's pacing in front of.
She and Rachel had picked up the little gem from a small antique auction in Soho; Rachel was all about the dcor
matching, and the $157 two seater sofa had matches the dark wood feel that Rachel had bestowed upon their first
apartment. "You need to calm down."
Her head snaps to the twenty year old wannabe animator and shimmering golden eyes narrow, "You're telling me what to
do? Really?"
He rolls his eyes, "Chill. Don't go all wolf on me. All I'm saying is that you're hardly going to think straight with how pent up
you are." He pauses, brown eyes darting across her face, "Right?"
Quinn lets out a shuddering sigh, feeling her wolf's grip slacken on her senses. She's long overdue a hunt, it's already
been two weeks and she's irritable as hell, moody, quick to angerit's a constant fucking time of the month for her and it's
driving her straight up the wall.

"You should respect me, asshole." She finally says, half chuckling, when she feels the tension melt from her muscles. That
throbbing headache caused by the incessant howling of her wolf still lingers, still pains, but the almost humourless laugh of
her friend makes her forget about the pain somewhat.
"You're not my Alpha, Quinn." He clasps his hands on his jean clad thighs before standing from the couch, "Beer?" He
questions, even though he's half way to the small kitchenette behind the couch.
She has work in an hour, a crappy mailroom clerk job that pays horribly and gives even worse hours. It's the only thing she
could land on such short notice. Finding work, in New York of all places, was surprisingly fucking hard. Rachel stillhadn't
found a job after five months; not that she could work, she spent all her free time away from class rehearsing for the annual
term play at Julliard.
A beer doesn't sound so bad, it's not as if her boss makes regular checks to see if she's high as a kite or so drunk she's
paralytic anyway.But then a beer is being hurled at her head and just before it impacts her forehead, her hand shoots out,
almost of it's own accord and catches the bottle within a tight grip.

"Nice catch, Alf."

"Don't call me that," She collapses down onto the couch, bottle of Bud clasped in both hands on her lap.

"But that's my name for you! AlphaAlf" He lands with a thump beside her, smiles a shit eating smirks because he
knows just how much it pisses her off and leans over to the woodwork that adorns the front of the arm of the couch, "I think
it's artistic."
Quinn launches herself over his lap and stops him from popping the top on the wood, "Rachel noticed the last scratch you
left thanks to your inability to use a bottle opener and I didn't get laid for a week. Do not even think about it."

He stares at her for a moment then chuckles, "You're the boss, boss." And he pops the cap on his teeth instead.

"I'm not your boss either, ass."

He takes a long pull of his beer, "I can't win with you." He rubs the lip of the bottle against his forehead, "You can't be this
touchy just because of your girlfriend."

"Add to the fact that a wolf is hanging out with an Alpha that certainly isn't the Alpha of hispack, as well as being in territory
that he doesn't belong, and you can sense my touchiness."
"I offered you to meet him."

"I'll be attacked as soon as I step foot in the Upper East Side. They'll smell me and they won't ask questions as to why I'm
there."

"I'll tell them you're coming."

Quinn shakes her head, toying with her unopened bottle, "It doesn't work like that, Max."
It honestly shocked her how much more aware of the rules she was compared to Max; he was a year older than her and
was a member of one of the biggest packs in New York, and he knew nothing about territory, or how if two Alpha's meet
they must fight to assert their dominance and strength. Quinn was strong, but with what she'd heard from Max about his
pack leader, he had almost shrugged off all of the offence toward his role as Alpha; wolf after wolf had died by his hand,
and he didn't even have to try.
"Oh yeah, territory and all that jazz." Max must know about the rules, what wolf didn't? But he acted as if they were nothing
to worry about, or that their was a choice between following them or not. That's just what he was a like.
Max Thorpe should always be taken with a pinch of salt; most of the time he was flippant, sarcastic and incredibly
annoying, but something about that raven haired, brown eyed boy drew her in. From their first meeting at NYU, he treated
her like an equal. He didn't quiver when he felt the power radiate off of her, or shy away when he smelt the blood of an
Alpha. He simply offered his hand and along with it, his friendship, and although they belonged to different packs, they
stand by one another through thick and thin.

"All that jazz?" She echoes with a flick of an eyebrow, "It's a pretty big deal."
"Yeah," He nods slightly in agreement, "But I haven't been attacked by being here." Then he looks smug all over again,
light brown eyes glittering against the early evening sun that seeps in through the windows, "Explain that to me."
"Two reasons."
"Enlighten me." He adjusts himself on the couch, taking another sip of his beer to relax himself.
"Okay, one." She raises a finger, "I don't know the Alpha in this territory, nor have I set out to find him and the only reason
why Ihaven't been attacked is because those wolves know I'm an Alpha. They leave me alone and by default, they leave
you alone too."

"Fair point." He nods to himself, then pops his lips together, "Second point?"
Quinn smirks, straightening out a second finger, "My girlfriend isn't here to throw you down six flights of stairs."

His left eyes twitches almost instantly, a discomfort trait of his that Quinn had picked up once they had first met. He had
been nervous in his first lesson and when the instructor had called upon him to show some of portfolio, his eye had
twitched and kept twitching when everyone's eyes were on him. "Is it normal to be so frightened by a human?"
The blonde shakes her head, because while yes, it's normal to be frightened by a human, it's not normal to be scared of
Rachel; the girl takes one look at a spider and scream the apartment down. But until recently, Rachel had become
somewhat more unravelled.

"She wasn't like this in Lima"

"What? Terrifying?" Max chuckles, trying to ease the discomfort that he can feel radiate off his friend. She looks so
uncomfortable just talking about it, and of course, who wouldn't? After all, Quinn Fabray is an Alpha, and any sign that an
Alpha can't deal with it's mate is a complete pride killer. He feels for her.

"So pent up." The blonde rolls her shoulders and clears her throat, trying to fight back the sudden lump in her throat, "She's
constantly on edge. Every time I try to talk to her about what's wrong, she just lashes out and my ass gets landed on the
couch."
"So much for Alpha dominance," Max chides playfully from behind his almost empty bottle of beer. He's dying for another,
but he's already made three sandwiches and drunk a two litre bottle of Pepsi that was stuffed in the back of the fridge.
One beer is enough.

"I'm" Quinn sighs, almost sounding defeated, "I'm tempted to put her in her place, but I really don't want to be that sort of
person or wolf."

"Well let me put it this way," He lets it soak in, almost for dramatic effect and Quinn leans forward, almost waiting for some
Sage like advice to come from her friend, and when he opens his mouth to continue, he burps and instantly covers it up
with a crooked smile as the blonde heaves herself back with a grimace, "If you and Rachel were both fully wolf, you'd have
put her in her place months ago."

"I know, but I'm half human too, Max. I'm not going to go all Alpha Pride on her just because I don't like the way she's
acting."
He shrugs, almost helplessly and offers the only advice he can give without stepping on the Alpha's toes, "Then sort it out
before it gets worse."

Her muscles ache, her head feels like it could explode at any given second, her eyes burn and the urge to just drop and
sleep is fast becoming a need. She's been on her feet since eight, classes since four and now stuck at rehearsals with the
clock silently mocking her as it's hand finally show the God forgiving time of eight pm to her burning eyes. Twelve hours.
30 minutes for lunch before she had to disappear to see her vocal coach and that's the only break she had. She hasn't
stopped.

"C'mon guys, we'll run this through one last time!" The director, a pot bellied mid-thirties eighties throwback named Kevin
Edwards, shouts from the seating area of the auditorium. He's masked in dark shadows and his voice echoes almost
maliciously around the empty room. She would have been somewhat worried, but she knows she's not alone on the stage.
She glances over to her stage partner and blows out a huff, the wet hair of her bangs blowing up from a sweating
forehead; Sophia Richmond looks happy as Larry, bright eyed and bushy tailed.
Bitch.

Her ever perfect stage partner that seemed to channel perfection into each and every line, unfazed by blazing hot stage
lights, infuriatingly upbeat when the people around her dropped like flies. Rachel didn't want to put it down to jealously, but
she knew that's what it was.
How could one person seem so perfect? How could one person nail scene after scene, deliver each line fluently, all
without messing up? The director adored her, prided himself on her talent.
Rachel busted herself day and night, exhausted herself, worried herself sick about scenes, lines and stage directions
because she wholeheartedly wanted the show to succeed.
But she gets no credit. Not even at the end of the day when all is said and done, and Kevin pats Sophia on the shoulder
for a good job and all she gets is a small half hearted smile. Then she goes back to the apartment, hoping Quinn is there
to offer her a much needed hug and kiss, but there's nothing. Quinn s either in bed already passed out or out with that
smug ass of a werewolf, Maxwell Thorpe. She finds fresh scratches on the couch, no dinner in the oven to warm up, so
when Quinn stumbles in from having a few beers, she naturally flips out. Would it be so hard just to have the apartment
clean? To have the crumpled and used sheets of papers thrown into the bin? Pencils and markers to be put back in their
cases?

And Quinn acts as if she's the innocent party, and then just to make everything worse, she mentions if she's found any sort
of paying job while she's been out.

No. No, she hasn't, because she's so damn busy with college and Sophia freaking Richmond. So they fight, they argue,
and Quinn always ends up on the couch. But in the morning, she always wakes up wrapped in Quinn's pale arms on that
very same couch. She apologizes, they both do, and Quinn always asks in such a sic kingly sweet way, "What's wrong? Is
everything okay?" But she can't open her mouth and admit, "I feel so out of my depth here." Or say the one thing that she
had believed since she was four, when Leroy held her in his arms, both staring up at the diamond glittered sky and said,
"You're the shining star in my life, baby girl."

She can't say, "I don't feel like that shining star, anymore." Because the thought of defeat after only five months, after
fighting so furiously for it through high school, just isn't acceptable in the slightest. She shrugged her shoulders whenever
Mercedes would tell her that high school was just the Rachel Berry show, or when Santana would tell her that she looked
like the bait girl on To Catch a Predator. She overcame being almost tortured and slushied every day by her peers, just to
give up when she had only just reached the city that held her hopes, her dreams, her future?

It was so tempting So heartbreakingly tempting

She was the star at McKinley High, but in New York, she was nothing. She was eclipsed by the enormous talent at Julliard
and she couldn't help but feel as if she was way out of her depth.

"Ready to go, Rachel?" Sophia asks with a warming smile and all she can offer in return is a half smile that's really a
grimace.

Her job makes her feel lonely. Only one mail room clerk is needed at a time at Sullivan & Cromwell on the late afternoon
shift. It's rather monotonous work; doing errands around the building, making copies, filing, my God, the endless filing. The
amount of mail she sorts is slowly driving her insane, but it's an easy job. She meets a lot of good people and it gives her
plenty of time to draw up designs and character models for her concept art and character design class.

Of course, she draw whenever she had the time; at work, at home, on napkins from diners on her lunch, and most
importantly in the beloved notebook that Rachel had bought her for her first day of college. The book was hardly ever
drawn in though; that priceless argyle patterned notebook was reserved only for the best of drawings, for the pieces of art
that meant the world to her. Inspiration would hit her anywhere, but mostly at home with Rachel curled up beside her,
exhausted but beautiful as ever from a hard and long day at Julliard. She would just pull out that notebook and draw until
her hand ached and eyes begged to close like the brunette angel's beside her.
But it's been a while since that notebook was even looked at, let alone drawn in.

All due to the fact that the snuggling was now practically none existent. Trying to get a morning kiss from the girl was a
rarity that was hardly ever performed and holding a conversation with the girl that didn't end in an argument was like
having a million dollars deposited into her account. It never happened.
They argued whenever they saw one another and Quinn had no idea what had attributed to her mate's complete 180
change. Rachel was confrontational, bitchy, irritable

She scrunches her latest drawing up in two tightly clenched fists, the tip of her freshly sharpened pencil digging painfully
into the palm of her hand. She can't even concentrate anymore, nor do her eyes refocus when the pencil continues to dig
into her skin.
"Quinn, I need you to run these papers to the copy room."

Her eyes snap to the bustling man beside her, he looks almost as if he'd run down to the mail room. Dark blonde hair
plastered to his forehead, eyes wide with a hidden buzz. He's almost bouncing from foot to foot, unable to stay still for
more than a few seconds at a time.
"You passed the copy room to get here, Dan. Why don't you do it yourself?"

He looks severely put out, and with the way his fist clenches around those important papers, she knows she's let herself in
for it.

"We all can't be as lucky as you, Quinn. You may be able to afford to sit on your backside all shift, but I can't. I'm not asking
you to give me the answer to the meaning of life, it's just a simple task. It's all I'm asking of you."

She rolls her eyes, "Fine." And drops the pencil and paper from her hand before leaning forward to snatch thee papers
from his disgustingly sweaty grip.

"It will only take two minutes," Then his eyes glance at her half drawn character designs that litter the table and sneers,
"Then you can get back to your doodles."

Her wolf growls, dangerously low and filled with such a violent warning that it sets goosebumps up and down her arms.
The hair at the back of her neck stands on end and she shivers, because she knows this feeling, she knows what her wolf
is thinking; she hasn't hunted in so long, or had any sort of physical intimacy to quell her wolf's needs. What better way to
get rid of it by tearing the man before into little pieces?

Her whole body trembles, every muscle tense and ready to strike. With sheer luck she manages to tear her eyes away
from Dan before he sees them flash. Mercifully he notices he's said something wrong and escapes from the tiny
entrapment of a mail room with his figurative tail tucked between his legs.
Not knowing that he's left a werewolf barely clinging to her human side, and so close to lashing out and attacking.

She almost falls through the door, the strength of just staying up on her feet is fast failing her. It's just past eleven and she
knows that Quinn finished her shift almost an hour and a half ago. But all the light are off, pencil and papers still left in the
same position they were in when she left that morning. Quinn hadn't drawn when she got home. It worries her slightly
because Quinn draws whenever she gets the chance, and nothing relaxes Quinn more on a night after work than drawing.

She dumps her keys in the bowl on a small stand by the door and drops her school bag right beside it. She takes a minute
to work out the niggling kinks in her back before wandering into the kitchen for a quick, almost midnight snack.

Her eating and exercise routine all but went out of the window once college started. The thought of getting up at six am to
use her trusty elliptical (which now served its purpose as a coat rack) was the last thing on her mind most mornings. The
almost clockwork schedule that her stomach ran on no longer existed now she caught meals on the fly and kept her energy
up with caffeine laced coffee and energy rinks. The weight she should have put on was burnt off quickly thanks to the
vigorous classes and rehearsals she goes to on a daily basis.
Thank God for small miracles.

She pulls open the refrigerator door and the glare from its overly bright light makes the pounding in her head feel twice as
worse. On instinct she pulls out a bottle of water and a half eaten tofu salad she'd left in there the night before. It's not much
of a meal by any means but all she wants to do is sleep. She barely has the energy to work her jaw. As she chews she
catches on to the familiar smell of living with a overly hungry werewolf; meat. The murderous smell of cooked beef fills the
air from Quinn's dinner and a small lace of jealousy runs through her.
Quinn can make herself a meal but nothing for her? Meat or no meet, the thought should be there. Would it kill just to cook
something on the side and put it away so she could come home from rehearsals and eat a proper home cooked meal for
once?
No. No, she won't get angry. She doesn't have the energy for it and all she wants to do is sleep and feed off of that warmth
that her hot bloodied girlfriend gives off. Even if she's annoyed with her.

She downs the water and salad, then dumps the bowl in the sink and makes a mental note to wash it the next morning
when she woke up.
The door is open a crack when she reaches the bedroom and she peers in. Enveloped in darkness and surrounded by
the four pillows that she most definitelyneeds for a comfortable nights sleep is Quinn Fabray. She takes a moment just to
watch the blonde; after all, its felt like years since she had the chance to look at the blonde without thoughts of school or
trying to find work swam around in her head and lingered like a bad smell.
Tomorrow was the only day of the week that classes started in the afternoon, and the thought of being able to sleep in with
her girlfriend and have breakfast in bed and talk andmaybe something else, almost had her drooling. So with weary
legs she makes her way inside, and as quietly as possible, pushes the door shut with a quiet click.

"Rach?"
She curses quietly, hearing Quinn turn in the bed. She should have remembered that Quinn's sense of hearing was
beyond perfect thanks to her werewolf blood. She could hear a dog bark from across the city without an issue.
"Yeah," She whispers, working on the buttons of her blouse with her back to the bed, "Just go back to sleep."

"I'm up now, anyway."

And there's silence and she doesn't know why, but she barely breathes as she unzips her skirt and lets it fall to the ground.
Her fingertips brush the tan skin of her stomach, noting with some grief that it isn't as toned as it used to be.
"Are you coming to bed?" Rachel glances over her shoulder, noting with some interest that Quinn is pushing three of her
four pillows onto the floor by the bed.
"Yeah, just need to take a quick shower." She pick up her clothes, throws them into the hamper and grabs her pyjamas
from the wardrobe because if Quinn's body language is anything to go by, they're going to have sex and she doesn't know
if she'll be able to keep her eyes open, let alone participate.

She spends as long as she possibly can in the shower, hoping with some false hope that her girlfriend will fall back to
sleep. When the water suddenly switches from hot to cold, she knows she's taken long enough. She climbs out, takes her
time to towel dry each inch of her skin, pulls on her pyjamas, pays special attention to combing out her hair, then the usual
two minutes to brush her teeth.

Forty-five minutes later, she switches off the bathroom light and enters the shadow ridden bedroom where her girlfriend is
hopefully asleep.

"Feel better?" She hears and Rachel barely holds back a curse.
"Yes, thank you." Rachel crosses over to the bed and climbs in, making sure to curl up to Quinn, resting her head on her
chest to feel that familiar warmth. It's a simple move, but it lets the blonde know that her girlfriend isn't interested in sex
right now.

"Are you okay?"

"Just tired."

Silence envelops the couple and when Rachel is sure that Quinn won't ask anymore questions, she fully relaxes and lets
the constant thrum of Quinn's heartbeat melt her into sleep.

But Quinn lays awake, fingertips trailing up and down along Rachel's tan arm, wondering as ever, how she's going to deal
with the situation.

"I was thinking we could have a movie night." Quinn glances up from her cereal, locking eyes with the girl before her who,
while she eats her breakfast of a fruity smoothie and toast, scribbles away at coursework she'd left until the last available
minute.
"I have rehearsals." Quinn bites down on her inner cheek and glances back down to her cereal, skimming the bottom of
her spoon against the pool of milk and Special K. She knew it was a long shot; a long shot that she expected wouldn't
follow through, but it didn't change the fact that it still pissed her off to high heaven.

"Can't you leave early?" It's not as if she's asking her girlfriend to sing the alphabet backwards, but Rachel chuckles,
almost in disbelief, and looks up from her work. The smile slowly slips, but only after she's seen the look of stern
seriousness on the blonde's face.
"You're serious." It's not a question, but Quinn nods anyway, eyes never leaving those beautiful brown pools.

"Baby." Quinn sighs, shaking her head slightly to herself. Rachel always uses pet names when she needs to make a point,
or if she's reallysorry about something. "I can't just leave early. What if I miss something important or" She drifts off,
shaking her head and glancing back down to her work. Quinn watches as her hand speeds across the page, fingertips
white with a grip so desperate.

"Rachel." She knows that tone, and it stops her hand for only a brief second before she's writing again, "Tell me what's
wrong."
It's an order, an order from an Alpha wolf, her mate, that she has to follow through on. But her tongue feels like a lead
weight, words unable to form; she can't say it. Quinn fell in love with a star, not a girl with a voice.

"I'm just stressed." it's not a lie, but it's not the complete truth. "With classes and the play, my mind is just frazzled." She
dares not look up, but she can feel that strong stare burning a hole into the top of her head. It's so uncomfortable, so
unnerving; she desperately wants to leave.

"Are you sure that's all?" And she knows that Quinn doesn't believe her, but she nods anyway.
All she's ever wanted was Broadway, and now she's not even sure she can have that. She has no backup plan, no easy
and reachable goal if she doesn't manage to achieve her dream. She didn't think it through at all. What would Quinn think?
Would she look at her the same way? Would that constant look of love and devotion just disappear if she told Quinn the
truth?

"I feel completely out of my depth. Sophia is such an amazing singer and she takes the stresses of school and
rehearsals in her stride as if it's a walk in the park. How am I suppose to contend with her for the big roles when I can
barely keep myself standing when she's doing a song and dance number?"
"What about lunch instead?" She asks, scribbling out a sentence because she's just repeated what she's just said on
paper. Idiot. Now the essay looks like a mess.

"I have plans." And Quinn's up on her feet, crossing over to the kitchenette to dump her bowl. Rachel watches helplessly
as Quinn grabs her backpack, shoulders it and walks to the door. "I'll see you later."

Her eyes fall back down to her work and with a quiet whisper she asks, "No goodbye kiss?" Because she knows that
Quinn will be able to hear her.

There's a sigh, a quiet, almost dejected sigh but then there's footsteps, coming closer and closer. Rachel's fingernails dig
almost painfully into the wood of their cheap dining room set from Ikea, waiting with bated breath as Quinn comes closer.

There's a kiss, so soft and gentle against the top of her head and then there's blonde hair surrounding her, pale hands rest
on top of hers and those soft as pillow lips brush down against the bridge of her nose. She leans back in her chair, tilts her
head up and presses her lips to Quinn's waiting ones. Lips brush in a soft, almost reassuring, dance and she melts into
the touch. It feels just like their first kiss all over again; new and so overwhelmingly turbulent. But then, her heart aches and
with a fleeting brush of Quinn's tongue against her bottom lip, that reassurance is gone.
And only when that door opens and shuts with a soft click does she realize she's been crying.

She's staring into space, pencil drifting across her drawing pad when Max drops himself in the seat in front of her. Her
eyes snap to him just as if he drops his drawing pad on his table with a dull thud, "We still on for lunch?"

Her hand drifts across her forehead, "Not really in the mood anymore." He watches her, one eye narrowing ever so
slightly. She rolls her eyes, "What?"

"You've been looking forward to this for weeks. Now you're not in the mood?"
"I can hunt another day, Max."

He's quiet, just taking her in; he has a habit of just being quiet from time to time just to people watch. Quinn finds it beyond
creepy, but he finds it to be a good trait to have. To say he's half human, he can't really use normal deduction of character;
instead he has to zone out and just stare at people for a few minutes to understand them. But one person he's never been
able to understand is his best friend. Quinn is an enigma that even the best psychologist couldn't figure out. Just when he
thinks he's nailed her character down, she goes and does something different to throw his assessment out of the window.
It's unnerving and annoying, but he can't help but like the aura of mystery that surrounds her.

"When was the last time you did hunt?" He makes sure to be quiet, because even though class isn't due to start for
another ten minutes, students filter in.

"I don't know." She shrugs, "Few weeks ago?"

"You need to soon or you're gonna go crazy. My brother didn't hunt for a month and he almost went bonkers."
She chuckles lightly to herself, "You don't have a brother, but thanks for playing."

"Fuck." He smirks, "Thought I'd got you there."

"Yeah, maybe you should keep track of what you tell me about your family before you try to lie to me."

"It was to prove a point."

"I could kill you for lying, you know." Max's eyes snap wide and Quinn makes sure to keep her face as stoic as she can,
"Lying to an Alpha" Her pencil stops drifting across the pad, "That's something" She shakes her head slowly, eyes
still locks on Max's, "You just don't do."
He watches as her pencil goes back to work and it unnerves him that she can still draw without even look at the page. He
can do it, thanks to the mental maps he makes in his head, but he usually has to look down from time to time because he
loses his place. It just proves, in no show of violence, but skill, how much more stronger and Alpha is than a normal wolf.
Both physically and mentally.
"Shit, you terrify me, Quinn."

She bites back a smirk, "Good to know you have no balls."

Max chokes, "Hey!" He leans forward, "I have plenty of balls! I have enough balls to go around this damn room!"

"Nice to know, Mr. Thorpe. Now if you've finished sharing your balls with the class, can we get on with it?" The class
instructor replies sarcastically as he walks into the room.

Quinn chuckles at the blush that covers her friend's cheeks but only when Max mutters, disturbingly quietly, "Nice drawing,"
And turns in his seat to face the front does her chuckle die away.

A grey scale sketch, drawn from across the room, a shadow enveloping a girl sat at a small dining room table, who's face
is buried deeply into the palms of her hands.

"Why did I draw that"

"You've reached Rachel Berry's answering machine. I'm terribly sorry but I can't take your call right now, so please do
leave your name and number after the tone and I'll be sure to get back to you."
"Fuck." She hangs up again, because no matter how much she wants to talk to her girlfriend she refuses to talk to a damn
machine. She rubs the edge of her phone against her forehead, feeling the beginnings of a headache stir in her head. It's
right behind her eyes and she knows it's a migraine, so with a shuddering sigh, she dials the same number, determined to
talk to her girlfriend before even the thought of talking makes her sick.

"You've reached Rachel Berry's answering machine. I'm terribly sorry but I can't take your call right now, so please do-
,"
"Fuck sake, Rachel." She mumbles to her phone as she collapses down onto one of the many benches dotted around
campus. Max is off hunting and she's stayed behind; she really has no idea why, because she knows she needs it but

"You've reached Rachel Berry's answering machine, I'm-,"

She tries a few more times, but with each unanswered call, her already growing headache pounds unwaveringly in her
head. Rachel always answers her phone or at least texts to say she's too busy to pick up the call. Rachel hated not
answering calls and hated even more leaving calls unanswered without giving a reason why.
But then again, Rachel hadn't been herself at all recently, so even that theory was worth nothing. So with a sigh, she
pockets her phone and heads off to the bakery a few blocks away from campus for a huge ass BLT and a cream donut to
drown her sorrows and headache in.

She finishes her shift at work at 7:30, so by 8:15 she's back home. She slides her key into the lock and kicks open the
door with the sole of her foot, her headache still pounding fresh in her head. She just wants to eat something quickly and
collapse into bed.
She stops on the threshold of her home, drops her backpack and takes one almighty sniff up. Steak. Honest to God steak
that makes her mouth water and instinctively lick her lips. She pulls her phone out of her jeans pocket and checks the time.
8:17pm. Rachel wasn't due home from rehearsals for another few hours or whenever the hell she deemed it appropriate to
come home.
So unless her mother had flown to New York as a surprise, that meant

The bag is kicked toward the couch and the door is shut loudly, on purpose, to see if anyone will shout out. But there's
nothing but silence and the gentle sizzle of the streak in the pan. So fighting off the rumble in her stomach, she walks
toward the kitchenette and comes to a stop at the counter.
Rachel is stood at the oven, munching a carrot stick with what seems to be a content smile on her face as she thumbs
through a book. Her hair is collected in a messy bun at the top of her head, wearing one of Quinn's NYU shirts (which is a
size too big) and her workout shorts (that hadn't seen the light of day since moving from Lima)

"Rachel?"
The brunette swerves on the balls of her bare feet and smiles, "Hey. I'm cooking steak."
"I see that." She watches as Rachel turns back to the cooker, and almost as if she's handling a nuclear substance, flips it
over with a pair of tongs. "But why are you cooking steak?"
"Well, I assumed you'd want some. I don't know what you've been eating since I've been busy recently, but I've never seen
steak in the fridge." She glances over her shoulder and grins, "I'm experimenting with a new crust. Breadcrumbs, cracked
black pepper and chilli, but not too much chilli because I know it gives you a stomach ache."

"Yeah" A golden eyebrow flicks up, "But why are you home?"
Rachel looks back to the pan and presses down on the steak with the tongs, watching carefully as the juices sizzle against
the hot pan. Judy had taught her how to cook steak to Quinn's liking and although it had taken a few dozen times to get it
right and get over the urge to pray for a cow every time she did, she finally got it down to a t. But she still liked to pay extra
special attention, because Quinn hated tough meat.
"You asked me if we could have a movie night and I think we're grossly overdue such a night, so I came home early."

"Huh." Quinn's fingertips tap softly on the countertops, eyes still locked to the back of her mate's head, "But I thought you
couldn't? Rehearsals and such?"
The brunette's head tilts ever so slightly to the right, "They can deal without me for one night. They only needed me for a
dance number anyway and that can be put off until tomorrow."

"Sure you won't get in trouble?"

"Positive," Rachel picked up the pan, waiting patiently for the loud sizzling to die down before sliding the steak onto a
nearby plate, "I spoke to the director myself and he seemed fine with it." She plonks the pan into the sink and leans down,
pulling open the oven door. "I cooked those chunky fries you like as well, is that okay?"

"That's fine." Quinn answers automatically, because it fucking is fine; it's not everyday Rachel cooks one of her favourite
meals unless "Are you okay?" She's done something.

"I'm fine." She pulls the tray out of the oven and takes a few seconds to shake it, "Judy told me to sprinkle them with salt as
they cook. Apparently they get crispier that way?" She glances at Quinn and then shrugs her shoulders, "Mothers know
best, right?"
The blonde rounds the counter, ready to wrap her arms around the girl that seems to be working on autopilot when Rachel
extends her free hand and waggles her index finger, "Other side of the counter, Alf."
Quinn stops, every muscle in her body tenses, "Not you too"

"Hm?" Rachel smiles, "It's my nickname for you, isn't it cute? I realized the other day that we don't really have cute
nicknames for one another and most couples do, don't they?"

"Yeah. But we were one of the couples that didn't. I'm fine with calling you Rachel."
"Yeah but" Rachel pouts and turns back to the plate, "I think it's cute. I've been thinking all day, I didn't really want to call
you 'fluffy' or something generic, so I shortened your social standing." She plies the fries gently on the plate, almost
creating a potato wall around the big slab of steak.

"Great, another person calls me Alf" Quinn drops her forearms to the counter and drops her head, "I might as well be
called Alfred."

"Who else calls you Alf?" Rachel moves toward her and pushes her girlfriend toward the dining table, pushing her down
into her seat with two strong hands to her shoulders, "Stay."

Quinn's eyebrow flicks up as she looks up at Rachel, "Excuse me?"

"Justsit, I'll get your dinner." And she toddles off back into the kitchenette and emerges with the plate and the extra value
bottle of ketchup that Quinn demanded they have in the apartment at alltimes. And she can't deny it, no matter how much
she wants to, but dinner smells utterly mouth wateringly fabulous.

So as Rachel settles opposite her, she grabs her knife and fork and all but tears into the meat. It's so tender it falls apart
on her fork and with that first bite, she remembers, almost as an epiphany, why she loves meat so much.

"Jesus-," She chews some more on that one piece, feeling the heat that's packed in from the pepper and chilli combo and
groans, "Fuck, that's like sex."

"I certainly hope not." Rachel giggles from across her, chin planted in the palm of her hand, smiling softly. "After all, I'm not
a slab of meat" Her voice drops, eyes almost turning smoky, "And although you may eat me like I am one" The
blonde smirks, "I cross the line at sprinkling pepper and chilli on my skin."
She snorts, "I'll keep that in mind." She picks up a chip between her thumb and forefinger and bites into it. It's fucking
perfect, fluffy on the inside, crunchy on the outside She swallows the bite and drops it to the plate, "This is perfect."

"Thank you." Rachel smiles.

"Too perfect"

Rachel's eyebrow flicks up.

"I'm not complaining-,"

"It sounds like you are."

"-but this is the sort of food you dream about. It actually tastes like heaven"

"And what does heaven taste like, exactly?"

Quinn narrows her eyes, "Why aren't you eating?"

"I already ate."

Quinn's eyes scan the girl before her, "Butyou don't like eating a different times to me. You always said we should eat
together."
Rachel shrugs, pushing herself up from her seat, "I didn't know when you'd be home." She crosses over to Quinn's side of
the small table and drops herself into an open lap, "If you finish eating dinner, you can have your dessert."
"And what's that exactly?" She asks quietly, feeling the telltale brushes of Rachel's lips against her ear. She clutches
desperately at slim hips, pulling the girl closer against her body, luxuriating in the feel of the body against her.
Rachel smirks and chuckles softly against her ear, and then a tongue darts out and runs slowly down the shell of her ear,
"Mr. Jacobs."
Quinn's eyes snap open, "What?"

"Mr. Jacobshe needs the paperwork." Rachel pulls back, eyes narrowed, "Did you forget to copy the paperwork?"
"Wha-," And Rachel's off her lap, "The hell."

"You're fired."
"What?"

"You're fired." Quinn's head snaps up from her table and she groans when the shift in pressure pushes down on her
already battered head. The pain was gone, just for a second, but now it's back, and Dan, her fat ass superior is stood
above her.
"Uh" She wipes the drool from the corner of her mouth, "Sorry Dan, I uhI must have fallen asleep."

"Yeah, you must have." Dan growls, "I can fire your ass right now for sleeping on the job. It's not like you do much of one
anyway."

"I do my job just fine."

"Mr. Jacobs needed his budget file an hour ago. It should have been printed and copied for the rest of the members of the
committee half an hour ago. I'm called because the papers haven't arrived and I come down here to find you, what?" He
picks up the drooled on piece of paper with a grimace, "Drooling on the paper that you'd printed but never gotten around
to copying?"
"I'm" She sighs and shakes her head, "I'll get right on it. I'll be done in a few minutes, I swear. I justI need this job."

"You've been a constant thorn in my side, Quinn. I could fire you right now."
"You've already said," She bites her cheek too late for the sarcastic retort to be pulled back in and when his eyes darken
she curses herself mentally, "Look I'llI'll get it done right now and then you candeduct pay from my pay check or
something. It's only one misdemeanour, it shouldn't cost me my job."

Dan glances at her desk and sighs heavily, shoulders shaking, "Fine. You sort this out. You apologize, all within ten
minutes."

Her eyes flutter shut, "Thank you."

"Yeah, you won't be thanking me when you find $100 deducted from your pay check at the end of the month." And he turns,
slamming the door shut cleanly behind him.
"Asshole."

She makes it home an hour later than expected, mostly because she worked overtime to try and work off the $100
deduction from her pay check. It wasn't much and it's not as if she needed the money, especially with the fact she has a
couple thousand dollars in her account, but she didn't really want to use that. That money was to save, hopefully for her
own children to go to college with.
That and she needs a job to keep her sanity. She might have the money, but it's sheer pride that she has to work for the
money she uses. She won't have it any other way, and neither will her wolf.
It's disturbing though, that when she unlocks her apartment door and walks in, is that the smell of cooking steak invades
her senses even before she's walked in. "Dj vu" She mutters to herself, walking in and kicking the door shut behind
her.

"Baby?" Rachel's voice calls out and she wanders over to the counter that cuts off the kitchenette from the rest of the
apartment. She stops. Rachel stands by the oven, barefoot, in workout pants and Quinn's NYU shirt. "Are you okay?" Her
hair is even the same.
"I uh" Quinn's eyes drift around the small kitchen, "What're you cooking?"
"Steak." Rachel smiles, "Nothing too special, I just marinated it in some of that spicy sauce you like. Ohand a salad,
because you need greens too." The singer pauses and really takes in her girlfriend for the first time since she walked in,
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah just," Quinn chuckles and rubs the back of her neck, "Dj vu, I think."

"I hate when that happens, it's so unnerving." She points over to the bowl on the counter, filled with iceberg lettuce, cherry
tomatoes, onions and cucumber, "Pour some of the salad dressing onto the leaves and toss it, will you?"

Quinn follows the instructions, but only because she can't really say anything without confusing herself more. It's dj vu,
weird deja-vu but there are some striking differences, "You didn't cook fries did you?"

"No" Rachel bends down slightly to look under the steak she's about to flip over, "Should I have?" And she flips it to
cook the other side.

"No." Quinn turns her attention back to the salad, "Just wondering if you had."

The steak was slightly overcooked and the salad had way too much salad dressing, but it grounded Quinn into reality. That
steak in her dream was way too perfect for Rachel to cook, and not just because she was a vegan, but because the girl
couldn't really cook much except apology cookies and pancakes.

It wasn't the best meal of her life, but it let her know that everything was alright, or that could have been the way that
Rachel's fingertips drifted across the plane of her stomach as they watched a re-run of Grey's Anatomy. She hated the
show, and although Rachel swore she didn't like the show either, she had a hell of a lot to say about Callie and Arizona.
They were laying on the couch, Quinn flat on her back, head propped up with a pillow, with Rachel all but sprawled out on
top of her. With her head resting on Quinn's chest, the blonde's fingers drifted through soft locks, taking the time to slowly
pull lock after lock of hair out of it's sloppy bun.

"Why are you home?" She asks, glancing away from the TV to watch her own hands do their work, "Not that I'm
complaining."

Rachel sighs softly against her chest, "I'm not the only one that's noticed we'reflailing at the moment. My hours at college
don't really work to our advantage."

"So you took the day off." Quinn nods and looks back to the TV, "I thought you couldn't?"
"I called and, while the director was incredibly rude by my not turning up, he told me it was fine for me to take the night off."

"Okay"
"What?" Rachel glances up at Quinn, "Didn't you want to me to take the night off?"

"No, I did, I justyou were kind of adamant you couldn't take the night off."
"But now I am. What's the issue?"

"No issue." They stare at one another for a few seconds, then Rachel drops her head again, snuggling back into Quinn's
chest, "I'm just happy you're here."
"Me too baby."
And they're quiet, Quinn really not paying attention to the show, but watching Rachel instead, who mouths the words to a
certain scene she's seen before because Quinn knows there's a box set or two hidden away in the back of the wardrobe
in their bedroom, "Babe?"

"Hm?" Rachel mumbles, fingertips dancing across her stomach once more.
"You're not thinking of getting nicknames for each other, are you?"

A beat and Rachel rockets up, "Oh my God. Nicknames."

"God damn."

"What would be a good nickname though?" Rachel bites down on her bottom lip in contemplation. Quinn nudges her
slightly and she chuckles, "What about fluffy?"

Quinn groans and Rachel giggles softly, "Nono, that's just mean." She skims her fingers through Quinn's hair and
scratches her girlfriend's scalp. She can just hear the soft whimper that Quinn gives off when she's relaxed and it makes
her smile, "Okaywhat about"
"Rachel." She looks down between her legs when Quinn's head pops out from under the covers, "Can we not discuss this
when I'm trying to go down on you?"
She bites down on her bottom lip playfully as Quinn stares at her with mock annoyance, "Sorry" She releases her lip
and watches as Quinn leans forward, running her tongue slowly across the almost swollen flesh. The touch is barely there,
but it sets her skin alight and her legs automatically wrap around her girlfriend for that closeness that she so desperately
seeks.
The kiss is so much more different to the one that morning; that kiss was almost like a permanent seal to the demise of
their relationship. But this kiss, it just solidifies a relationship that was meant to be. Her fingertips seek her mark and she
brushes the tips of her nails against it, groaning into Quinn's mouth when that skilful tongue flicks against hers.

Quinn's warm body covers hers, and she feels far from smothered. She feels just as safe as she did all those months ago
back in Lima. Quinn kisses her, she feels safe. Quinn touches her, she feels nurtured. Quinn makes her come, she feels
invincible.
Every touch reaffirms her and all she can do is sigh quietly when Quinn sucks on her tongue, nipping it ever so softly with
her teeth. Her hips move of their own accord, rising up off the bed to grind against a muscled and toned stomach,
streaking it with sticky moisture that makes the wolf above her, herwolf,howl with need.

Quinn smells how ready her mate is, husky and heady. She feels that swollen and sensitive clit skim across her stomach,
feels those nails dig desperately into the skin of her shoulders. She maps her kisses with how strong that grip gets, and
only when her tongue drifts down, across her chin, down a bare throat, until finally settling against the hyper sensitive flesh
of her mark, does that grip tighten so dangerously that she wouldn't surprised if Rachel broke skin.

She tongues the mark, feeling each and every bump made by her teeth. It seemed like so long ago that Rachel had
begged to be marked, then consequently turned. But now they're in New York, making love as they sounds of the city that
they had both grown to love surrounds them.
Rachel arches her back, breasts pushing against the skin of Quinn's throat when she feels teeth grazing that permanent
mark. It feels so good, so pure and heated and she tries to open her mouth to ask what her girlfriend is doing, but she just
chokes.

Teeth dig into the mark and she whines, humping her hips up against Quinn's stomach, trying to ride out the ache in her
clit as Quinn bites.

"Qu-inn" She whispers, voice choked, body aflame with conflicting pleasure and pain that wars within her body. She can
barely focus on one feeling before another is invading her, and she tries desperately to get Quinn's attention once more,
but then two fingers are sliding into her, and her muscles clutch those fingers as if they were clutching to life itself.
She feels lights explode behind her eyes, and all she can focus on is the way those fingers work their way deep inside her,
pushing against already tight walls that threaten to collapse with a body shattering orgasm.
Quinn's teeth dig no deeper, they stay in a locked position and even though Rachel knows she's not bleeding, it feels as if
everything is flooding away from her body. She feels no stress, no pain, no worries, no conflicting thoughts that constantly
put her on edge.

Those fingers probe incessantly inside her, working her toward an invisible edge that threatens to shatter her. And all she
can do is choke out a sob, feeling overwhelmed as heat floods her body from above.
Quinn pants desperately against her chest, working her own hips into the bed to try and alleviate the pressure between her
legs. It's hot and sticky and all she wants is Rachel's tongue against her, inside her.

But she needs to do this. She needs to make her mate shatter. She needs to make her whine and beg and moan and
scream.

She glances up at her girlfriend, who's wide disbelieving eyes are locked to the ceiling and places a third finger to that
soaked entrance. She watches and feels as Rachel's hips stop riding her fingers, and then start all over again at a quicker
pace, desperately trying to fuck herself on them, to get them deeper. She babbles incoherently as a third finger slips
inside her, pushes deep, so deep that they bump something hard inside of her.

Rachel gasps and Quinn stops. Only then does she realizes that tears are slipping down her mate's cheeks, "A-again
O-Oh Go-od, please, agai-in."

She licks the sweat and moisture from around Rachel's mark and bites ever so slightly harder, miles away from the
untouched barrier of breaking skin.

And she pushes again, and she feels that hard bump and she knows she's bumping Rachel's cervix. But her mate is going
wild, arching her whole body toward the ceiling, panting and clutching desperately at Quinn, fingernails digging into heated
pale skin.
"B-aby" Rachel chokes, squeezing her eyes shut, almost in time with the way that her muscles clench around Quinn's
working fingers, "Close."
It's only one word, but it's all she needs. She drives her fingers faster, abandoning the need to torture her girlfriend with the
lack of orgasm. Rachel is crying, she needs to come so badly, her body hums desperately, her heart thumps dangerously
against her chest. Quinn can hear it, Quinn can feel it.

And then there's a rumble and she registers the way nails drag straight down her back, slowly, harshly, leaving a trail of
red welts before she registers the feeling of Rachel's walls collapsing around her fingers, squeezing, choking, coming.

Rachel cries out, clutching and scratching and she sobs incessantly as her orgasm rushes through her entire body and her
body continues to twitch long after her orgasm is gone. She barely feels Quinn's lips against her mark, she barely hears
herself breathing; she feels so out of it. But then Quinn's fingers are moving again, slowly this time, so slowly.
"Quinnyou've," She swallows, trying to moisten her dry mouth, "I'm done. I'm done"

"No you're not." She slides down Rachel's body, taking the time to kiss each available piece of slick tan skin. Rachel's
chest heaves as she kisses down it, flicking pebbled nipples and sucking them into her mouth.

Rachel whines, but fingers Quinn's hair and pulls her closer to her chest. Almost unwilling to let go. Her body still hums in
the after glow of her orgasm and she can barely think, let alone talk.
But they don't need to say anything. Quinn dots gentle kisses to her girlfriend's quivering stomach, dipping the tip of her
tongue into her belly button before pulling back.

They lock eyes, and instantly they both know what they're both thinking. And when Quinn grabs her leg and wraps it around
her waist, she knows what they're going to do and all she can do is smile as Quinn shuffles forward on her knees and
connects their centres.
She gasps as soon as the connection is made, and she feels Quinn's grip around her leg tighten as pleasure courses
through her body. They've never done this before and the feeling is so completely different to anything they've both felt
during their time together. This is so pure and raw. They're touching one another so intimately.

Their eyes stay locked as Quinn slowly begins to rock into her. Their clits bump softly together and together they make that
one unique gasp. It's hot and wet and oh so fucking good. And all Rachel can do is watch as Quinn rocks into her, watch
as her werewolf girlfriend works above her, watching the muscles beneath pale skin contract and tense as she works to
bring them both to the pinnacle of perfection.

She clutches desperately at the bed sheets, nails digging themselves into the sheets as Quinn works herself into her. It's
almost as if she's trying to become one with her, the way she rocks so confidently into her. She gasps every time their clits
brush and it sends a jolt of pure electricity up her spine.
It's sets her on edge and her already sensitive clit is beginning to hurt from all the pleasure. But it's such a good hurt and
she can't help but rock her hips up to help Quinn along. The blonde tosses her head back, panting from excursion, trying
desperately to fight off the orgasm that threatens to rip through her body already. She clutches Rachel's leg tighter, her
other hand landing on her hip, pulling her mate closer.

And she slows and Rachel pants, "Quinn please" But before she can even beg again, Quinn grinds into her, slowly and
mercilessly, grinding their clits together, soaking one another's swollen lips with one another's come.

And it drives her wild.

She launches up and wraps her arm around Quinn's strong body, panting hotly into her neck, whining, begging,
demanding that she make her come. And she's never been the one to deny her mate.

Quinn nods, almost to herself and drives her hips faster, grinding backwards and forwards, in small circles that makes
Rachel twitch against her. And when she feels Rachel's grip on her body tighten, she speeds up. She drives her hips into
her girlfriend, grinds their abused clits together until finally they're there. The pinnacle. Rachel screams against her neck
and Quinn chokes out a moan, her wolf howling earth shatteringly loud in the back of her mind. It's a coming together of
both wolf and human that makes it all the more powerful; it's two orgasms, one for her, one for her wolf and it completely
shatters her.

She collapses forward, and barely stops herself from landing on top of her mate in a heap with a well placed hand beside
Rachel's head. She turns and lands with a thump beside her. And together they collect their breath and bearings. Rachel
recovers first, turning on her side and snuggling up to Quinn's shaking body.
"You okay?" She hears whispered and Quinn chuckles.

"More than. My wolf is thanking me right now."

"What do you mean?"

"When I comeso does my wolf." She hazards a glance at her girlfriend to catch her reaction, but there is none, "Does
that bother you?"

"Why would it? I made an Alpha come."

And Quinn chuckles, turning on her side to wrap her arm around Rachel's waist, "We should rest. We both have college
tomorrow and I doubt you could get away with another missed rehearsal."
Rachel hums, "Yeah, I guess so." And then she yawns, "Hey baby?"

"Yeah?"
"What about Alf? It's like Alpha but shortand it's like a little nod at Alfred back in Lima."

Quinn's eyes snap open and the glare that Rachel receives is more than enough to back off. The blonde smirks, because
even a glare is enough to put Rachel in her place. They've just made love, now is not the time to talk cute nicknames.

Well, it is. But she really doesn't want to have this conversation when she can be sleeping.
"I still think it's cute." There's a pause, "Just like you." And Quinn feels the brush of Rachel's lips against her nose and
instinctively Quinn scrunches her nose up, "See. Cute."

"When will I see you?" Quinn asks, already ten minutes late thanks to a very long, but very overdue morning shower with
her girlfriend who seems a lot calmer than usual as she munches on some toast.
"Uhm." Rachel swallows her mouthful and then takes a long pull of her strawberry and banana smoothie. Quinn chuckles
and picks up her backpack, shouldering it, "Well, the director said there wasn't much to work on tonight. Maybe nine?
Maybe a little before?"

"What happened to rehearsals until ten?" The blonde asks, taking a quick sip of Rachel's smoothie. It earns her a glare,
which she totally deserves because vegan yoghurt is totally disgusting. She runs her tongue along the row of her top teeth
and cringes, "Damn that tastes nasty."
"Hence why it's mine, wolf."

Quinn growls and leans forward to softly kiss Rachel, just a soft brush of lips, "I'll see you when you get home, okay?"
"Kay." Rachel whispers in reply, watching as Quinn dashes to her keys, waves goodbye and disappears out the door in
record time. Only then does she take the time to sigh, dump her smoothie into the skin and walk into the bedroom to get
ready for college.

"She'll probably freak."

"Why would she freak?" Quinn asks, zipping up her hoodie as a wind chill whizzes past her. She's walking across the
main campus at Julliard and she knows, she knows, she shouldn't be here when Rachel rehearses, but she can't help it.
Rachel doesn't sing in the apartment anymore, mostly because she's hardly ever in it, and Quinn just wants to hear that
voice that knock her straight onto her ass.
That and show her support. She feels as if she's been a crappy girlfriend recently, never really supporting Rachel and the
play she's in. Of course there was a celebratory meal when Rachel was told she'd received one of the main roles, and the
celebratory sex that had come straight after it, but between the two of them, it'd never been mentioned again. Unless they
were fighting.

"Because didn't she set a boundary between you and the campus? She doesn't go to NYU and snoop in your business
and you don't go to Julliard and snoop in hers."
"I just want to hear her sing and bring her dinner." She looks down at the Tupperware box in her hand; it's nothing fancy,
just a few vegetables to munch on during fast paced rehearsals and a few vegan cookies from Rachel's favorite bakery
few blocks away from their apartment.

"What would you do if she turned up at NYU?"

"To give me dinner? Fuck her in the toilets."

"Gross. No wait, that's hot. That's hot, I have balls!"

Quinn chuckles, pushing open the door to the drama department, "So you keep saying. Enough balls to go around the
class, huh? Impressive."

"Suck it, Fabray."

"Watch your tongue around a superior, boy."

"Yes ma'am."

The door to the auditorium looms and she pushes open the door gently with the ball of her foot, "I gotta go. I don't think I'm
allowed to use my cell in here."

"Don't blame me if your ass is on the couch again, tonight."

"I won't. I'll just go to your dorm and kick your ass to the floor while I take your bed."

"Touch. Speak later, Quinn."

She pockets her iPhone and stops. The stage is empty, save for a man sat on the edge of the stage, legs crossed,
papers in his lap. "Excuse me?" She calls out, quickly jogging down the aisle toward him.

He glances up and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "Can I help you?"
"Yeah, uhisn't there a rehearsal tonight? For the play?"

"You're auditioning?" He perks up, glancing down at his watch, "You're my last of the night."
Quinn frowns, "I thought you'd got a full cast."

"I did until one of my actors pulled out. If you'd like to just get up on the stage, you can perform the monologue you have
prepared."

She bites down on her inner cheek and she can barely hold back from shattering the plastic Tupperware in her hand,
"Which actor?"

He frowns softly and shrugs his shoulders, half way in the middle of getting up from his seat on the edge of the stage,
"Rachel Berry, why?"
*Chapter 12*: Afterglow
"Meet me on Julliard Campus."

Quinn disconnects the call as she storms through the auditorium doors, leaving a frankly terrified director with shattered
Tupperware at his feet in her wake. Her body is tense, hand clenching and unclenching sporadically around her iPhone;
only when she looks down does she see white specks of colouring underneath her fingernails from where they've clung
and scratched the back of the phone case.

As soon as she's free into the mid November afternoon does she take the time to just stop and collect herself. There is no
need to be angry, far from it. Rachel made her choice and of course, while it hurts her not being told and the blatant lies on
her mate's part, it's really none of her business. It's not as if she has to take part in the play or else she won't graduate, but
the chance to take part in a play directed by a man who had directed many off-Broadway shows was something you didn't
stick your middle finger up at.
Students stare awkwardly at her as they pass and she's honestly not surprised; she's talking to herself, to her wolf, to calm
the fact Rachel had lied and if she has to look somewhat Schizophrenic to stop her eyes from flashing gold or her bones
from breaking, she was going to bloody well do it. So she sits herself down on a nearby bench and just relaxes.

Ten minutes later Max Thorpe is settling himself down beside her, zipping up his black hoodie until the zip rests at the top
of his throat. He says nothing, and rightly so; Quinn doesn't want to talk yet and although they're friends, hopefully best
friends, she's still an Alpha and she can kick his ass back to Connecticut whether he likes it or not.
He can feel the calm finally seep through and he takes only almighty sniff of that scent to calm the thunderous pounds of
his own heart. He holds the breath and exhales, eyes watching as the cloud of breath drifts into the open air and slowly
begins to disappear into nothingness.

Quinn swipes at her forehead and lets out a shuddering sigh, "She lied to me." It's all she needs to say and for that, she's
thankful; it's a weight off her shoulders to talk to someone, another werewolf, who knows how bad a taboo lying to an
Alpha is.
"About the play?" He asks, glancing toward the campus entrance he'd come through. He lands an eye on a woman in a
thick brown winter coat, hair stuffed under a beanie hat with a multicoloured bobble at the top, flipping through the pages
of a thick looking book.

"She told me she took one night off. That her director green lighted it." Quinn glances down at her wrist watch, a beautiful
silver watch that Rachel had gotten her for her 19th. It's not the most expensive watch in the world, but it's a gift from the
woman she loves, so to her, it means everything. "She should be there right now, so obviously she's hiding out
somewhere to kill time."

Max tears his eyes away and looks toward his friend, "Have you asked her friends where she is?"
Quinn shakes her head, eyes shutting briefly; she would have asked them but Rachel refused to hand out her friend's
numbers thanks to the werewolf's almost stifling over protectiveness. The singer knew Quinn would call and text her
friends if she hadn't heard from her every other hour. The thought alone was enough to keep the numbers close to her
chest and hidden in a password protected contact list on her phone.
"Do you know where her friend's are? Where they live?"

She glances at him, but only for a second, "Yeah, because I keep to my stalking schedule every Thursday night when I'm
off work."

"Sarcastic Quinn." He chuckles to himself, "I've missed ya."

It makes her chuckle, briefly, but it's a small victory. Ever since he'd met Quinn she'd been overly seriously, pent up and
somewhat aggressive. When he had been on speaking terms with Rachel (before the disastrous first meal at the girl's
apartment where he had laughed at the fact the brunette had a MIA mother; he hadn't meant to, but the vision of a Barbra
Streisand look-alike in Commando gear was just too fucking funny) he had found out that Quinn, while at times overly
serious, was rather care free and always had something to smile about. Obviously something had changed since the
move from Lima; maybe the stress of not having werewolf parents to fall back on or the threat of an Alpha demanding a
fight for control of their territory but God damn, the whole thing gives him a headache.

"What're you going to do about her lying?"

"Talk to her about it."

Max fists his hands and stuffs them in the pockets of his hoodie; he doesn't get cold, thanks to being warm bloodied, but
human's could find it weird for a guy only to be in a thin hoodie and not be cold. He adds a small shiver to put the icing on
the well acted cake.
"You're not gonna put her in her place?"
It's what any wolf does. When one wolf in the relationship begins to act up, it's up to the other wolf to put them back in their
place and teach them to be respectful once more. Usually the conflict is settled by a fight, a fight of dominance. But for a
werewolf and a human, the act is significantly different, and completely different if said wolf is an Alpha.
"I'm not going to throw her to the pack to fend for herself. I'm not that cold hearted."

When a human disobeys an Alpha's rules, the human is thrown into the circle of the Alpha's pack and attacked. It's
inhumane and Quinn despises the rule with every molecule of her body, so she avoids it at all costs.

"I'll deal with it as a human. Not as a wolf."

Max nods, "Good. I wouldn't want to see either of you hurt."

Quinn flicks up a sculpted eyebrow, "I thought she terrified you?"

"She does but she's your mate. If anything happened to her you'd be inconsolable and honestly, it'd kill me to see you like
that." She turns her head to face him, feeling the sincerity pour from his words and scent, "You may not be my Alpha but
you're my friend." He looks away and takes a deep breath, "Can I go now?"

And she just nods because there's nothing left to say.

By the time she gets back to the apartment, it's almost six in the evening. She calls out, just on the off chance that her
girlfriend is already home, but she's met with silence. Rachel has yet to arrive home.
There needs to be a plan; something that can lean her successfully into the whole lying thing without Rachel piling on more
lies to cover her tracks and just making it worse. So she pulls out her phone.
When are you due home?

Uhm, early I think. Why?

It's not a complete lie; a deflection maybe, but not a lie.

Just wondered. I was going to order some Thai and wondered if I should get you anything.

Yum! I'll see if I can charm myself out of the rehearsal early. I'll text you back when I know!
Okay, so that was a lie. She bites down on her bottom lip to fight back the surge of anger that her dominant wolf side
exudes. Quinn's rational human side knows full well that people lie, especially in relationships, but her wolf isn't having any
of it. She distracts herself by wandering into the kitchen and grabbing the menu of a Thai place that they had both fallen in
love with a month after moving to New York. Mostly because they sold fortune cookies, a secret love of Rachel's, which no
other Thai restaurant sold and their Khao Phat Kai was almost like a nectar of the God's and the one reason that Quinn
had gained a few extra pounds. That and not finding the time to hunt, to burn off all the calories that her body needs.

I'm a lucky girl! I got out early but I have to make up the time on Monday. But at least I get an early weekend. Order me
that red curry dish that I always get, you know the one.
Oh! And some fortune cookies! ;-)
She all but stares into space when she types back because Rachel is a tremendous actress; she can lie as if speaking
the truth. It irritates her to no end, but she can't come off as if she's miffed. So she acts too.
Veggie red curry extra chilli, right? Of course I know the one. Am I actually going to get a fortune cookie or are
you going to steal them again like you always do?

Are you insinuating that I am a thief, Quinn Fabray? I MAY share, if you're lucky. Just jumped on the subway, I'll be
home soon, love you!
She stares at the last two words and even her wolf can't fight back the smile that stretches across her face. She's so
excitable and fun loving and hyper; she hadn't seen this part of her mate for so long thanks to the stresses of the play and
the arguments it caused between them. She knows she should be happy about the change, how the ball was back in her
court, but it felt like a hollow victory, because the only way she won was by making Rachel walk away from a part of her
dream. All she wants is for the singer to be happy, and although they're not arguing (yet) is this the way to go about it?

She places the order and asks for ten fortune cookies, because last time she'd ordered four and the only time she'd seen
them was when she was picking up the trash and found the empty wrappers underneath the couch.

Rachel Berry was a fortune cookie ninja, that much was certain.
It takes twenty minutes by subway and five by foot to get to the apartment from Julliard, so she pulls out a couple of bills
from her back pocket, slaps them on the counter and rushes into the bedroom for a quick shower. Rachel may not be a
wolf, but she can certainly smell Quinn's pheromones, and Rachel, the overly intelligent girl that she is, had begun to
differentiate the type of scent Quinn gives off compared to her mood. Quinn had t laugh at what her moods 'smelt like' to
Rachel, but it was oddly horrifying how her mate was 90% correct about moods most of the time.
She knows what she smells like right now, and because she's angry, Rachel will smell it too. Fireballs. Quinn had laughed
when Rachel had told her that she smelt like fireball candy when she was angry, and the fact that it was oddly apt for her
mood, but she didn't complain. At least she didn't smell like rotting vegetation, which almost every werewolf smelt like to
other wolves when they were angry.
She's half way through rinsing the conditioner out of her hair when she hears the front door slam over the loud spray of the
shower. There's no rushing, she takes her time, because that Thai place runs like clockwork and-,
The door bell rings and Quinn smirks as she shuts off the water. Just like clockwork.

There's only one thing she says when she walks back into the living room, and there's only one thing she does. She
marches over to the couch, the TV playing on low, pillows on the floor, Rachel with her back to the couch and says with her
arm extended, "Hand them over."
Rachel glances up at her, spoon still in her mouth, carton of curry clutched in her hand. The spoon pops free and she takes
her time chewing, watching as Quinn's jaw begins to clench. "What do you mean?"
"Fortune cookies."

Rachel shapes a perfect 'o' with her lips and leans forward to grab the bottom of water she'd gotten herself from the fridge.
"They weren't in the bag. They must have forgotten to put them in."

Ha. Rachel would be calling up that damn place to demand an extra ten because of their blunder. But no, she's calm.
She's being coy about the location of said fortune cookies. "Really?" Quinn drops her hand and drops onto the pillow
beside Rachel, "So they're not hidden under the couch like your secret stash?" She pops open her carton of chicken rice
and licks her lips at the aroma that blasts into her face.

"No idea what you're talking about." She looks back at the TV and looks way too invested in FOX News for any sane
person; it's fishy to say the least. But when she shuffles back ever so slightly to push her back against the couch, it's proof
enough for Quinn.
So she digs in, chomping happily on her chicken, watching Rachel's defence slowly slip away until she's open to attack.
She sneaks her hand behind Rachel's back and snatches a red wrapped fortune cookie before the brunette can even
react.

"Oh yeah!" She settles her carton down and rips into it before Rachel can even think to reach out for it. But just as she's
about to crack open that golden shell, all 5'2" of Rachel Berry collapses into her side.

It's a battle of wills, and Quinn can't help but laugh when Rachel rolls her onto her stomach and starts crawling up her back,
"Give it to me!"

"I only want one!" Quinn chuckles, fisting the cookie to protect it from her girlfriend's greedy claws.
"Just gimme!" Rachel flattens herself on top of the blonde, pinning her down to the floor with all her weight. With Quinn
pinned, she extends her arm out to grab the fist that Quinn shot out and away when the play fight began.
"It's just one!" Quinn wheezes through a laugh. It feels like everything is back to normal; play fighting and teasing one
another just like they did before all the stress dumped itself on both their shoulders. She feels happy, content and can't
help but fall in love with her mate all over again when she hears Rachel giggle in her ear.

"I'll give you a back massage if you give me the cookie!" Rachel watches as Quinn's hand seemingly gets tighter around
the cookie, "No! You're going to crunch it up!"

Quinn chuckles, "Okay, I give." She relaxes her fist and let's Rachel take the cookie. The brunette retreats back to her seat
and Quinn clambers to her feet, chuckling to herself. "Need a drink after that."

Rachel huffs but smiles as she cracks open the cookie, pulling out that familiar white slip from within.

Difficulty at the beginning usually means ease at the end.

She folds the slip, pockets it and she's just about to pop one half of the cookie in her mouth when she hears a snap from
behind her. Setting her jaw, she clambers up onto her knees and glances over the couch to the kitchenette where Quinn
stands with two pieces of cookie in one hand and a fortune in the other.

"Oops."
"You sneaky-!"
"Stole it when you were trying to get the other out of my hand." Quinn grabs a pen on the shopping list by the fridge and
begins scribbling something on that small slip.

Rachel watches with bated breath as Quinn pops both parts of the cookie into her mouth and moves back to the couch
with the slip dangling between her thumb and forefinger. The slip is dropped next to her carton of curry as Quinn sits back
down on her pillow, grabs her chicken and rice and tucks in once more as if nothing had ever happened.
The singer sits back down and grabs the slip, first reading the printed side.

Hope brings about a better future.

Then she flips it over, but instead of smiling at Quinn's beautiful handwriting, she finds herself shuddering at the words
marked in blue biro.

It breaks my heart that you lie to me.

Her head snaps to the blonde beside her and chews on her bottom lip in contemplation. There was a reason Quinn wrote
this, and obviously she had found out about the play. But the words, they cut so deep, leaving her raw and hurt.

It breaks my heart.
But Quinn continues to watch the news, eyes locked, gaze unwavering. Lying broke her heart too, but it was for the best,
right? Eventually she would have told Quinn the play was 'cancelled' due to the lack of funding and then the whole thing
would have been dealt with. She'd clean her hands of it for good and they'd go back to normal; happy and content with one
another. And she'd try not to shatter when the play sold out and Sophia bragged about the overwhelming success and how
she'd already been cast in another play already and

"How did you find out?"

Quinn shrugs her shoulders softly and swallows her mouthful of rice, "I know how you always miss meals when you're busy
rehearsing; I thought It'd be nice to bring you dinner."
She nods softly, glancing back down at the slip that lay dejected on the flat of her palm. Quinn wasn't stupid, deep down
inside she knew she couldn't keep lying; Quinn was incredibly logical, sooner or later she'd have put the pieces together.
And if not Quinn's mind, then Quinn's wolf would have been able to sense something. Anything. Why hadn't she just told the
truth and told Quinn she'd left so their relationship wouldn't shatter under the stress?
"We were arguing all the time. I was never home. I thought-,"

"If we can't deal with the stress of a school play how do you think we'll deal with our conflicting schedules once you're on
Broadway?" Quinn settles her carton down and swirls on her backside to face her mate with legs crossed. "Would you lie
then? Pretend you're Elphaba but really you're that one girl that chose her relationship over her dreams and is stuck
behind a desk in a mundane nine to five?"

"I thought it was what we needed."

"It was a test." Quinn amends strongly, "One that not just you failed, but me too. You got angry and instead of diffusing the
situation I poured gas onto the fire. I'm at fault for that, but that doesn't change the fact that you shouldn't have come home
looking for an argument. I did not deserve thatin the slightest."

"I know." And she does know; Quinn was an easy target after a stressful day of classes and rehearsals, and instead of
being calmed when she saw her smiling girlfriend's face, she was just reminded of that stupidly sweet smile of Sophia
Richmond, her unfazed co-star and just snapped. After keeping it in all day she just let every little annoyance leak free and
Quinn stood there and took it. And because they argued, Quinn brought up the fact she had no job, called her useless,
made the hidden cut that much deeper with every vicious word. "I don't know why I lied."
"You could have talked to me about it, or at least told me that you'd left the play."

"I know, but I just panicked. It was a spur of the moment decision; I thought we'd argue more."
Quinn sighs deeply, clambering up to her feet. Rachel watches helplessly; it's going to happen, Quinn is going to walk out
and leave her. Oh God, she needs to make her stay. She needs to say something!
"Please don't leave me!" She shoots up and throws herself in front of Quinn, in the path of her impending departure.
"Please." It's a heart wrenching beg, a plea, and Quinn's eyes soften.

Rachel knows the blow is about to come; she's seen enough movies to know that look, that look of 'I'm sorry, but I just can't
be around you anymore.'
She feels the hands on her shoulders, soft, warm, safe and she just shatters. The sobs echo over the weather forecast and
those hands grip tighter, and she just breaks down. It's over. Her lies ruined the best thing in her life; she's pushed away
the girl that stood by her when her life collapsed around her. She didn't have that safety net anymore. She's on a tightrope,
high in the air, struggling to keep her balance and her foot slips.
She falls.

She screams silently and clutches at something, anything, to stop her fall.
"I was just going to get a drink. I'm not going anywhere, Rach."

She's caught in a pair of strong arms and sobs with relief. Quinn holds Rachel as she sobs into her chest, apologizing
through wretched gasps for air, begging her to stay. The blonde sighs softly, rubbing her hands up and down Rachel's
back; a sure fire way to calm the distraught girl.
She knows why her mate broke down so spectacularly; the bond made between them thanks to that one mark makes
even the sheer thought of Quinn leaving completely life shattering. It's a chemical reaction with the worst effect.
"C-Can't b-breathe-,"

It makes your body feel as if you're dying slowly.

Quinn pulls back and cups Rachel's face in her hands, "Look at me." She orders softly but with a hint of forcefulness. It's
enough to tear Rachel's eyes away from the floor and up to her eyes. Breathtaking brown eyes made all the more beautiful
through tears meet hers and she smiles softly, "I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying. You know why?"

Rachel's head shakes ever so slightly from side to side, but she says nothing, she's barely holding back her own sobs.
"Because we were made for each other. You ramble because I love the way you always have to prove your point and
exhaust any argument. I love the way you always end up halfway off the bed in the mornings because I take up so much
space and you like to sleep on a tiny little section. I love the way you can't even talk in the morning without coffee. I love the
way you always complain when I put my socks in the wrong draw. I love when you hide fortune cookies under the couch
from me because those fortunes always make you strive for something. I love the way you kiss my nose, because no
matter how much I say I hate it, I love it. I love you, and I always will. That'll never change."

And it takes ten minutes for Rachel to finally calm down, but only three seconds for her to reach up on her tiptoes and kiss
Quinn on the nose.

"So, how'd it go? Which one of you is on the couch?"

"Neither. She's in bed and I just woke upin the same bed."

"Oooo. Sohow'd it go? Did you lose your temper?"

"Nah." Quinn whispers softly, brushing the fingertips of her free hand up and down Rachel's bare back. She watches as
the strong muscles flex of their own accord with a smile. Rachel hadn't moved once from her position since last night. Sex
induced coma. She smirks, "We were calm. She freaked at one point because she thought I was going to leave her, but
yeah, aside from that it went well."

She hears a sniffle on the other side of the line, "Oh I'm so proud! Quinn and Rachel fight to see another day!"

"Any many more after that, I hope."

"No doubt. Fancy hunting? I have work till about four but I'm free after that."

"Can't. I have work at five till late."

"You need to hunt sometime soon, Alf."

"I know, I know."

"You keep saying that but if you start feeling weird, hunt as soon as you can."

"Feel weird?" She asks, running a finger down the middle of her girlfriend's back. She whines softly, shoving her face
deeper into her pillow. Quinn barely stifles a laugh, "What do you mean?"
"Like you have the flu or something. Headaches, pressure behind your eyes, achy muscles and joints."

"So I'd come down with the flu?"

"It's your wolf's way of telling you that you need to sort it out immediately. Like a self defence mechanism or some other
shit. If you don't sort it out, your wolf with start to assert itself to sort it out itself."
"How?" She asks, watching as Rachel slowly turns over onto her back, draping her forearm over her eyes to block out
that sun seeping through the open curtains.
"Ha. How'd you think? You'll transform and have no way to stop it. Avoid that at all cost unless you wanna be sent to the
pound."
Quinn smirks, "Hardy-har-har." Rachel pulls her arm away briefly, holding it to hover in midair as she looks at the blonde
beside her on the phone. "I'll keep that in mind, but I have to go, the ball and chain is awake."

Rachel's mouth drops open, "I resent that!"

"Oh shit, she shrieked. I'm outta here. Speak soon, Alf."

"Later." She disconnects the call and drops her phone on the bedside table before draping herself over her pouting
girlfriend, "It was just a joke." She says through a laugh, dropping a kiss to a pouting bottom lip.

"Ball and chain, how very husband and wife of you."

"Who's the husband?" Quinn asks, propping herself up on her forearms, half draped over her girlfriend.

"You of course. I handle the finances and clean the house while you blow all the money on takeout and beer."
The blonde takes a moment to ponder this, and after a few seconds, she scrunches her lips together and nods slowly, "I
agree with you."
"Quinn Fabray!" There's a slap to her shoulder and Quinn just smirks, leaning down once more to softly kiss her now
smiling girlfriend, "Wait, no, morning breath."
"Oh please, I've smelt worse."

"On me?" Brown eyes are wide at the thought and Quinn wonders for a second if she should tease, but drops it when
Rachel starts covertly sniffing her own armpits, "I'm aware I smell like sweat, but we did have quite vigorous sex for hours
last night."
"No need to remind me, Rach. Photographic memory, remember?" She taps her temple with the tip of her finger, "And to
answer your question, no, not on you. I can smell most things you can't, for example, urine."
"That's" Rachel's eyes dart away from Quinn and then back, "So gross."

"It's a way of marking territory. You have to smell it."

"But" Rachel cringes and her whole body snakes, "Oh gross, Quinn! I kissed your wolf's nose when you came back from
hunting that one time!"
Quinn sucks in both lips and holds them between her teeth, body shaking with silent laughs.
"Thanks so much for the warning, fluffy."
The blonde's mouth drops open, "You so did not."

"I believe I did." Rachel replies, triumphant.

"You are aware I can pin you down and tickle you."

"I'm aware, but you've also warned me, so I can do this." And all 5'2" of naked Rachel Berry goodness is out of the bed in
a shot and locking herself behind a sturdy bathroom door, "Ha! Tactics, you have none, I believe!"

Quinn snorts from the bed and drops her forehead to the firm mattress, "I let you win!"
"Whateverrrr!" Rachel sing songs as she turns on the shower.

"You have to come out of that bathroom sometime, Berry."

Rachel is smart enough to say nothing else.

There's a cup of coffee waiting for her when she emerges from the bathroom, freshly showered and wearing one of
Quinn's hoodies, half zipped, with black shorts.

Her girlfriend is sat on the kitchen counter, shoving Lucky charms into her mouth although it's past twelve in the afternoon.
She's only wearing boxers and a thin overly worn shirt, and Rachel openly stares at her girlfriend while she sips at her
coffee. Perfect, as usual.
Quinn swallows her mouthful and glances down at Rachel's chest, obviously checking out the swell of her breasts. "Nice
hoodie."
She smirks over the rim of her mug, "Thanks, it's yours."
"Oh, I know."

Yeah, she's still talking about her breasts.

Together, the eat and drink in silence because nothing more needs to be said. They buried the lies last night when Rachel
had finally calmed down enough to speak coherently, and Quinn did anything she could to keep the girl calm as she
spoke.

Together they came to a decision, Monday morning Rachel would go straight back to the Director and ask for her role
back. It was a long shot, and one that Rachel wasn't even sure would work. She wasn't even sure if she wanted it to work,
to be honest. The arguments stemmed from that damn show; what if they just started again? What if it was like a vicious
circle?

But Quinn had promised to be more accommodating, and in return, Rachel promised to see the Director. She wanted the
spot, my God did she want it; it was her ticket to prove to Julliard what she was made of. She'd gone up against all the
opponents for her role and come out on the other end victorious, that in itself was something to write home about. She
could do it againif the role hadn't been taken.

"Where were you yesterday if you weren't at rehearsals?"

Rachel glances up from the black swirl of her coffee and frowns, "I went to a friend's dorm, why?"

"Which friend?" Quinn asks, genuinely curious. She might need their number in the future if Rachel decided to stray again.

"Why is that important?"

"Honestly?"
Rachel nods with a smile, "It's good to be honest with one another."

Quinn smiles, "I just want to know if I can have their number. Just in case something goes wrong, I want at least one
number to fall back on if you disappear of the map or something."

"That's not going to happen," She replies, resting her mug on the countertop and moving to stand between Quinn's open
legs. Quinn slides her empty bowl down the counter and wraps her arms around Rachel's neck.

"It's just a what if."

Rachel stares into hazel eyes, then after a beat, nods and pulls out her phone from her hoodie pocket. "I was with Amber,
she's in my class." Then she flips the phone so Quinn can see the display and it only takes a moment for the number to be
memorized. "And you have the other number, of course."

Quinn frowns, "Huh?"

The brunette pockets her phone and shakes her head softly, "What do you mean, huh? You have Maxwell's number."

"You were with Max?"

"I thought that's what you were talking about this morning."

But Quinn just stares and Rachel silently curses.

There's six unread messages on her phone and fourteen missed calls, all from the same person as Quinn slams her fists
down on Max Thorpe's dorm room door. She pounds relentlessly and she hears the shuffle of feet on the other side, so it
only makes her slam harder.

"Whoooooa, whoooooa, okay!" The door swings open and a floppy haired, half baked guy fills her vision, "Damn. You're
fucking hot!"

"Are you high?"

"Heh," He chuckles deeply, "Yeah."
"Where's Max?"

"Work or some other shit. Wanna come in? I still have some weed left." He glances over his shoulder to stare at the half
smoked joint on his desk, but when he turns back, the blonde beauty is gone and he shrugs, "Need to smoke some more.
Might get twins next time." And he chuckles to himself as he shuts the door again.
Max works in a comic book store a few blocks from NYU. It's a commute that he has to take via the subway, but he tends
to like to walk, just to stretch his legs. Quinn doesn't take such a path. She all but throws herself into a subway train and
grips onto a railing for dear life as the doors shut.
She's going to fucking kill him.

He's behind the counter when she gets there and he's flipping through a comic that usually sits idly in the discount bin. He
barely glances up when he hears the bell above the door ring, but he sees a flash of blonde hair, that familiar long blonde
hair, and just when he looks up to see if it's who he thinks it is, there's a fist flying right at him, cracking him square in the
jaw. He falls back and knocks the shelving behind him, littering stacked comics on top of him as they fall from their resting
place. He jumps forward and trips over one of the murderous little comics and chins himself on the edge of the counter
top.

And he's out cold.

He wakes up in the backroom, he knows it from the smell; it smells like his boss, who wears too much Old Spice than
strictly necessary. He's slumped over his boss' desk, papers stuck to his forehead as he leans up, groaning at the pain
that sears through his forehead.

"You were out for ten minutes." He squints up at the figure by the office door and groans when a twinge shoots up from his
jaw to his temple, "You lost a tooth too."

"Thanks," He groans, rubbing his jaw softly. He feels the blood, still wet, but the cut is scabbed. It'll leave an interesting
scar just underneath his chin for all the ladies to ask aboutif he gets out of this alive. "Can I ask what the fuck that was
for?" He leans back in the seat, swallowing back the nausea that hits his stomach. He'll get over it quickly, just like the fact
he isn't concussed. The blessings of being a wolf.

"Rachel went to your dorm yesterday and you didn't tell me."
Max groans again and runs a hand through his black hair, "She swore me to secrecy."

Quinn kicks away from the door, "Your allegiance to me is more important than your allegiance to her."
"Allegiance?" He scoffs, "I'm not a member of your personal army, Quinn. I'm your friend and I'm Rachel's friend, even if
she hates me from time to time. She wanted to talk and I lent her an ear. Why? What did you think I did?"
He's goading her, she knows it, and she doesn't want to bite because she trusts her girlfriend implicitly. The ringing tone of
her girlfriend fills the air and she silences the call without even taking it out of her pocket. Even if she does trust her
girlfriend and friend implicitly, there's always a little niggling feeling when something out of the ordinary happens. She
narrows her eyes at her soon to be exfriend. "Spill. Now."

"Why don't you ask her?" He gestures to the pocket that holds her phone and cups his jaw, "Trust her if you don't trust me."

"I don't trust either of you right now and that's only because you're not telling me."

"It was nothing. After I met up with you at Julliard she was stood outside my dorm. I almost shit myself because I thought
she was gonna club me to death or something, but she just asked to talk."
"About?"

He pulls his hand away and glances at the blood that coats the tip of his fingers. It's slowing, thank God. "She asked me
how you'd been acting around me."

"What? Why?" She steps forward and braces herself on the desk; very good cop, bad cop.
"Well in her own words, she told me that you were in a 'rut' and she wanted to know if you'd been as moody with me as you
had been with her." He can tell Quinn is about to explode, so he emends quickly, "She wanted to know if it was something
she had done. She wanted my opinion on how to fix it because I apparently 'know you so well thanks to our werewolf
backgrounds.'" He pauses, "Her words. Not mine."
"So?" She lets him grab a tissue from his boss' tissue box to compress the blood flow, "What did you say?"

"I said you hadn't been hunting in a while and you were a little pent up because of it. She seemed relieved, but asked why
you hadn't been hunting."

"And you said 'she doesn't have the time,' right?"

"Not in so many words"

Her eyes narrow dangerously, "What did you say, Max?"

He stares at her then sighs with defeat when hazel eyes lock to golden; he can't lie to an Alpha more than he already has.
He's lucky he isn't dead. "I told her you were too busy worrying about her and her schedule to go hunting."
"For fuck-," Quinn turns her back to slowly healing man and groans, "Is that why she came clean so easily? Because she
was worried about my schedule?"

"Quinn, she came clean because she doesn't like lying to you." He stands from the desk and sighs, "Nobody does if they
get a fist in their face for the trouble." He walks around the table and stops before her, tissue still held to his chin, "Look, I
was just looking out for her. She seemed really upset and she told me not to say anything. You told me you were going to
talk to her anyway, so I assumed it'd play out."
But she just stares at him, "I know you were looking out for the both of us, but next time, stay the hell out of my business."
He hears the growl of her wolf, the Alpha wolf, beneath her voice and he actually shakes so hard she visually sees it. He
needs to get out of the room.

"Igo hunting?"
"Are you telling me what to do?" And she's backing him up against the office door, barring his only escape unless he
wants to duck and weave into the nearby closet like bathroom.
"Nobut your eyesthey're locked gold."

"Because I'm fucking pissed at you!"

"I know, so maybe you should leave and cool off, huh? Don't go home, cos y'know, you might get angry again if you see
Rachel."
"Oh I won't, far from it. I'm not angry at Rachel, I'm angry at you." Her voice is lower and it takes on the primal growl of her
wolf that she's all too familiar with, "You're lucky I'm not ripping your god damn throat out for not calling me as soon as she
left your dorm! I could have avoided her breaking down yesterday! I could have avoided making her feel like shit for lying!"

"I-I'm sorry."

"I'm gonna leave and if you have anycommon sense left in you, you'll leave me alone. Don't talk to me, don't call me, don't
even look at me."

"Why are you acting like I slept with her?"

His shoulders are pinned to the door and his head slams back against the hard wood. He whines pitifully when he sees
the familiar fangs of her wolf glitter under the harsh light, "Quinn! You're not in your right mind, okay? You assumed the
worst and you're still pent up from it! But now you know we only talked because she was worried about you! Rachel, your
girlfriend, the woman who loves you, just wanted to know you were okay because she knew we were friends!" Her teeth
are getting closer to his throat, "That's all! Fuck, I swear! That's all that happened! We talked and she left when she got a
text from you, I swear to all that's mighty!"

Her jaw is locked open, ready to bite, and Max's chest is heaving against her, he's sure he's pissed himself with fright, but
then Quinn is pulling back, eyes flickering, "Text? A text?"

"Yeah, from youabout takeout or something, she didn't go into detail." He's still heaving from breath. Shit, it feels like a
panic attack. Is this what panic attacks feel like?

"Hm," Quinn swallows and backs away, dropping her hands from his shoulders, "Sorry."
And he breathes a sigh of relief, because she might not mean it, but it means she isn't going to attack him anymore. He
wants to lash out and be angry at her for almost attacking him, but he knows full well that the wolf within in her is fighting for
dominance. It's protecting it's mate; one thing that wolf would go to the grave for. And she hasn't hunted in weeks; she's
slowly beginning to lose control of her human side, he knows that feeling all too well.
"Go hunting, Quinn. Take the day off, I don't care. But hunt, for Christ sake."

Her eyes flicker from gold to hazel and they lock there; she's calmed herself enough, she's taken control of her rampaging
wolf, pissed and annoyed at the lack of hunting and too much jealousy. "Okay."

Max just nods, too scared to say anything else.

"I'm sorry."

He pulls away from the door when she reaches to open it and she's halfway through it when she stops, "That was my wolf,
not me."

He's close to tears, fuck, he wantsto cry. "I-I know." He sits back down at the desk, "Can you flip the closed sign when you
leave, please?"

And Quinn just nods and leaves.

She hears Max pray to all that's holy when she's halfway down the street and only the start of tears before his thoughts shut
out from her mind.

Rachel's pacing in front of the couch with her phone glued to her ear when Quinn walks through the front door, "Oh thank
God!" She launches herself into Quinn's arms and wraps her arms tightly around the blonde's waist, "Where the hell did
you go? You didn't answer my calls."
"Went to see Max," But then Quinn's pulling away and she's grimacing, "Rach, I need to go hunting but I need you to go
with me."
The brunette frowns, "Why? Why don't you go with Max?"

"I'llexplain after, okay?"

"Quinn, what did you do?"

"Rachel, please."

She sighs heavily and takes in the flickering of her girlfriend's eyes; she needs this, she learnt that much from Max
yesterday evening. "Okay. Just let me get dressed real quick."

It's fucking cold.

Rachel's huddled in a shirt, sweater, hoodie and Quinn's winter coat because it's a size bigger than her own. They took a
cab and Quinn called out a place called the 'Forest Preserve' that Rachel had never heard of. Quinn explained it bluntly,
that it was a large plot of land owned by the state where they allowed people to camp as if they were in the wilderness, but
in the 'wilderness area' no such people were allowed. It's like a forest, filled with animals for her and other werewolves to
hunt.
Rachel asks no more questions and spent the rest of the journey in silence. That had been an hour ago and now she was
stood by a tree that Quinn had designated their 'meeting point' and she was freezing her damn ass off. Quinn had
transformed before her; she'd done it plenty of times before, and then just ran off into the forest without a backward
glance.
She shivers when a gust of wind blows past her and she curses herself for not grabbing a pair of gloves when her phone
buzzes softly in her pocket. She quickly brings her phone to the ear, "Rachel Berry."

"Where are you?"

She sighs softly and glances into the forest, "At the Forest Preserve. Quinn is hunting and I'm standing here freezing
thanks to you. If I get pneumonia and lose my voice and catch some nasty flu because you couldn't be bothered hunting
with her, I'll take you to court for bodily harm."

There's a soft chuckle, so soft it doesn't even sound as if it's there, "It's nice you're with her."

"Hm. I hope she realizes this and warms me up when we get home."

"Should I ask?"

"It fulfils your lesbian quota, but you've missed your chance, so no, I won't tell you."

"Damn." And there's a pause, a long pause and Rachel shuffles to try and generate some sort of body heat. What she
wouldn't give for Quinn to be here, holding her. That warm blooded girlfriend of hers would certainly come in handy right
now.

"What did she say when she saw you, Maxwell?"

"You should ask her yourself when she's done, Rachel. It really isn't my place to say."

"You're worrying me."

"Justask her when she's done, okay? Try not to freeze to death." And there's a dial tone, and Rachel stares at her
phone as she drops it from her ear. She shakes her head softly at the blank screen and drops it into her pocket.

What the hell?

Quinn returns an hour and a half later, licking her chops, looking supremely better, almost with a bounce in her step. All
four legs seem to be doing some sort of happy dance as she walks toward her shivering girlfriend.
"Why thanks for gracing me with your presence." Rachel mutters through a shudder, teeth chattering, "You're lucky I'm not
skinning you for your fur!"

The wolf huffs and jumps up, front legs dropping on top of Rachel's shoulders. The weight is almost too much to bare, but
the heat that emanates from Quinn's stomach is so damn good."Oh Moses, that's nice!" And Rachel wraps her arms
around that fluffy wolf, burying her face into her neck.
The strength of Quinn's wolf is almost extraordinary; she can stand on her back legs for as long as she wants without
getting tired, and the feed she just went through fuels that energy. Damn it was a good hunt, bloody and fast paced and
everything that every wolf could ever dream of. Perfection.

Her worries seem to melt away, especially when her mate sighs into her fur covered neck. Quinn's nose sniffs at the
brunette's skin, taking in the familiar scent of her girlfriend. It's calming and it she feels as if she could just drop and fall
asleep.
"What happened with Max, Quinn?"

Maybe not.
So she drops down and Rachel watches as Quinn transforms before her, the fur slowly disappearing, the snout, the
golden eyes, the four strong legs until finally her blonde girlfriend is before her on her knees, "Got my clothes?"
The singer opens up her coat and pulls out the sweater and jeans she had folded underneath her arm, hoping in someway
that her body heat would keep the clothes somewhat warm, and hands them to Quinn.
"So?"

Quinn dresses quickly and sighs, "I decked him."

"What?" The blonde cringes at her girlfriend's shriek, "Why the hell did you punch him?"

"I just thought" She drops her chin to her chest and shrugs her shoulders, "I don't know what I thought."
There's silence between them and Quinn feels antsy at the silence develops. Rachel stands before her, hands stuffed
back into her pockets, brown eyes darting from her to the forest, "I know what you thought."
The voice is flat, but there's an accusation laced behind the words.

"I don't know why I thought that, I just, my wolf went crazy and I couldn't rationalize, I know you wouldn't do anything like that,
I knowthat-,"

"Quinn, I'm not mad at you."

Shit, dj vu. She locks eyes with her girlfriend. "It's only natural you come to that conclusion, after all, Maxwell did keep it
from you. But I did tell him to keep it from you because I didn't want you to think that I was running to him for answers
instead of coming to the source. For that, I apologize, but it still hurts, I'm not going to lie."

"I know," She whispers, dropping her chin back down to her chest with shame. Nothing hurts more than letting down the
one you love. She feels like a royal ass and a total disappointment. Can't she feel the rush of hunting once more? Just to
forget about this conversation. "I'm sorry."
"It's not me you should be apologizing to," Rachel's phone appears before her and she shuts her eyes, letting out a sigh,
"Call him and apologize."

"I already did."

"Not good enough."

"Rachel, I said talk to Quinn if you want answers, okay? I'm done being the middle man."

"It's Quinn."

"Oh. Hi."
"Look," She glances over to Rachel who's talking animatedly with the cab driver, "I just wanted to apologize. I called you
out on something that was completely preposterous and I really shouldn't have hit you. I was just so pent up and my" Her
eyes lock on the back of the driver's head, "Alf just took over. I hadn't been taking care of myself or Alf properly because
I was too worried about my relationship. I took it out on the wrong person."

"You scared the shit out of me, Quinn."

She sighs shakily, glancing out of the window, "I know."

"Yeah."

"Where do we stand? It's up to you. After all, I kind of did ruin our friendship."

"You're the best friend I ever had. I never really had anyone I could connect with; not even with people in my own pack,
until you came along. You really made me come out of my shell."
"You said 'had'."
Rachel glances at her before turning her attention back to the driver.

Max sighs softly on the other end of the phone, "I just don't know, Quinn. I always knew you were an Alpha, but I guess it
never really registered with me.You're dangerous."
She bites down on her bottom lip, "Hm."

"You could have killed me. Shit, you made me piss my pants I was that terrified!"

"Sorry" She whisper, glancing down at her lap with shame. Fuck, she's being chastised by someone lower down in
rank-, no. This is a human friendship. He may be a wolf but he's still a human, and still is she. She refuses to be bound
completely by her status.

"I know you are."

"Where do we stand, Max?"

"I'd ask for time, but you're an impatient son of a bitch."

She chuckles softly at that, "Yeah."

"Justspend time with your mate. Rachel needs you right now; she needs just as much consoling as you. Me and her
may have a love hate relationship, but I know she's good for you. She keeps you groundedwhen you're not off your
rocker because you haven't hunted in almost a month."
"I know what I said back in the office, butthanks for talking to her. I'm glad she went to you for an ear instead of one of
her other friends that are probably bitchy personified."

Rachel scoffs and glancing at her, "Excuse me, miss Head Bitch In Charge?"
She has the good grace to blush, "Point proven." Rachel smiles and turns back to the cab driver who looks like he wants
to choke himself on the rubber dice hanging from his rear-view mirror. "So"

"So."

"What do you want to do?"

"Eat a plate of nacho's and drown my sorrows in beer?"

"Need someone to help you with that?" She asks softly, because she knows this is a kill or be killed question. He could
either say yes, which is fantastic news; their friendship can be salvaged, or he got could say no, and God knows what
she'd do if he walked away because she couldn't control her wolf after a month of no hunting.

"Not today"

She chomps down on her inner cheek, feeling the heat behind her eyes, "Fair enough. It's your call."

"Yeah" He coughs gently, "But uh maybe you could, I dunno, help me with my concept design in class on
Monday? Y'know how I suck at concept"
She smiles, "I'd like that."

"Cool. Uhm, look, I gotta go. My boss is back and you know how he is when he catches me slacking off."
"Yeah I know," She chuckles softly, "I'll see you on Monday then?"

"Yeah. See you then, Quinn."

It's a start. It's a start and an open opportunity to save her friendship with a guy she really connects with; a guy that looks
out for even when she's being a big headed monster. To say she could have attacked him and left him severely wounded,
his level of forgiveness was astounding.

"He really likes you," Rachel comments softly as she takes back the phone and pockets it, shuffling into Quinn's side to
feel some of that glorious heat, "It went well?"
Quinn nods and drops a soft kiss to the top of her girlfriend's head, because even though her and Max have agreed to
meet on common ground, it still doesn't change the fact that Max hadn't called her 'Alf' once.

"We need to get out of the apartment." It was Sunday and they'd only gone out that morning for breakfast, "Don't you
think?"
"We went out this morning." Quinn groans, rolling over so she's facing the back of the couch.

"I know but I'm bored."

"Go sing something."

She hears Rachel stomp her feet behind her and she stifles a chuckle as she looks over her shoulder, "What do you want
to do baby?"

"Go out."
The blonde rolls her eyes, "Go out, where?"

"Welldo you remember what you said Friday night?"

"I said a lot of things Friday night," Quinn snuggles back into the couch and shuts her eyes, feeling content to laze the day
away, "What of it?" She really wasn't in the mood to draw, anything that came to mind was just a haze of shadows and
grey.

"Well" Did her voice just get closer? "When you wereyou know what" Rachel's lips brush against the shell of her ear
and she can't help but shudder.

"Say it." She buts in, turning her head to stare Rachel right in the eye.
"Say what?" The singer asks, equally cocky.

"When I was" She pauses, "When I was what?"

"Hm." She pulls on her girlfriend's shoulder and forces Quinn onto her back. It's uncomfortable as all hell because this
couch really isn't for lying down on, but then Rachel is climbing on top of her, straddling her hips andshe can't remember
what she was complaining about. "When you were"

"When I was" Quinn goads, watching as Rachel leans down and brushing her lips against Quinn's lips, "Tell me."
"When you were fingering me."

The blonde's hands automatically go to her girlfriend's hips and slowly begins making the girl grind in a slow rhythm on her
lap. She hardly feels anything, thanks to the jeans she's wearing, but the sweatpants Rachel's wearing; oh she'll feel
everything.
"Go on"

Rachel groans and rests her hands on top of Quinn's, dragging her nails against the skin as her hips slowly move of their
own accord, grinding down gently against the crotch of Quinn's jeans.

"When you were fingering me, you told me you wished you could really be inside me"
"Hmmm"

"Sowhat if we do that?" Rachel asks breathlessly, feeling herself slowly beginning to soak her panties at the thought of
Quinn on top of her, wearing a strap on, pounding in and out of her, controlling her, dominating her like the Alpha she is.

Quinn's groan against her lips answers that question and she smirks, "We're wasting vital time that could be used going to
the sexual aid store to buy such an accessory."

She almost falls off the couch when Quinn shoots up and she has to cling to the back of the couch when she almost loses
all balance as Quinn dives for her Vans, "Get your shoes on." By the time she's even got off the couch, Quinn is stood at
the door, jacket on, keys in hand, "Come on! After all, we're wasting vital time that could be used going to the sexual aid
store to buy such an accessory."

Rachel chuckles, "Put yourself in an Argyle sweater and you pull a fantastic Rachel Berry." She's halfway into the bedroom
when she hears, "Maybe for Halloween."

"Asshole!"
Rachel is torn between being so incredibly turned on that she wants to rip her clothes off right in the middle of a busy New
York street and just laughing out loud at how Quinn seems to weave and dodge them both past the crowds of people.

"It's a Sunday, will it be open?" Quinn asks, breathlessly over her shoulder as they waist at a crossing.
"I checked before we left. It's open," She glances at her watch, "But only for another hour."

She watches Quinn's back stiffen and she giggles, "We need to move." The blonde looks up at the cross sign and groans,
"Come on walking man!"

Rachel apologizes to passers by that stare openly at them, but Quinn doesn't seem fazed in the slightest, "Calm down.
We'll get there."

"Do you think they'll keep the store - finally! -" She tugs Rachel across the street when that glorious walking man shines,
"Do you think they'll keep the store open for us if we take our time browsing?"

Rachel would shrug if she had control of her shoulders, but Quinn is dragging her onto the sidewalk and down another
busy street, "II don't know!" The singer pants; damn she's out of shape. She makes a mental note to pull the coats off of
the elliptical when she has the chance.
If she's not fucked to death by then, that is.

Sex is a form of exercise, isn't it? She'd be working out her quad's by doing the reverse cowgirl, right?
She hardly has time to speculate because by the time she even realizes what's happened, she's slamming into Quinn's
back because the blonde has seemingly stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. "Uhm," She glances at the people around
them before manvouring herself in front of her girlfriend, "Are you okay?"

"I'm kindanervous." Hazel eyes are locked dubiously on the logo of a very well maintained sex shop.
Rachel smiles and glances over her shoulder, "Look, it's fine. They know people have sex; that's why they're in this
business. We're just a couple that are looking to spice up their love life a little." Her girlfriend still looks dubious, so she
smirks, "You do want toright?"

Quinn glances down at the hand that drifts down her stomach and stops at the crotch of her jeans, "Uh" And she can
only nod because English eludes her suddenly. Rachel beams, pulls her hand back and clutches Quinn's in hers before
dragging her into the shop.

Quinn half expects a seedy little store with a sweaty and hairy retired 70's porn star behind the counter with dildo's
hanging from the ceiling and whips nailed to the wall, but she's pleasantly surprised when a woman in her mid twenties
smiles softly at them from behind the counter. There's no dildo's swinging in front of her eyes, but there are whips, right at
the back of the store and she gulps.
"If you need any help, don't hesitate to ask." The woman chirps and Rachel beams as if they're old buddies.

"Thank you!" And Quinn's pulled again toward the back of the store where what they need sits in wait. She knows she's
blushing when Rachel scans the shelves and she tries to hide it, especially from the woman behind the counter who tries
not to smile, but can't really help it. "What size?"
Quinn's attention snaps back to Rachel and with wide eyes asks, "Huh?"

"Size. What size?"

"Uh" She shrugs her shoulders, "M-medium?"

Rachel smiles softly, "Babythese aren't clothes. They don't come in small, medium and large."
"O-oh."

"I know you're nervous," The singer comments as she turns her attention fully to Quinn, "But don't be. They specialize in
this stuff and you're only embarrassing yourself by being embarrassed. That girl doesn't care, neither do I. Why should
you?"
"Iguess so."

"Excellent." Then a beat, "What about seven?"

"Seven strap-on's?" She squeaks before slapping the palm of her hand over her mouth.

"God no!" Rachel rubs her forehead and sighs, "Inches." She drops her hand and locks eyes with Quinn, "Seven inches."
"Oh." Is muffled behind a pale hand, before it's dropped, "Seven sounds okay. We could alwaysupgrade if you wanted
bigger."

"I'll be using it on you too, Quinn."

Rachel smirks as the blonde's jaw seemingly drops and locks there while she turns to find the perfect seven inch for the
couple. "I don't want a nasty garish colour like purple or something"
Then she hums.

"Excuse me! Would you suggest a flesh coloured dildo for us, please?"
And Quinn just dies.

"She's quite pale but I'm tan. Is there an in-between colour."

"So you want the dildo to appear real?"

"Yes, exactly."
"Kill me."

"Hm, well this one has a remarkable flesh texture."

"Oh! That's an excellent shade!"

"Was there a size you preferred?"

"Seven inches, right, Quinn?"

"Hm"
"Seven inches."

"Seven inches is a perfect starting point if you wish to work your way up. We also offer lube."
"Oo! Quinn! Lube!"

"Yeah"
"We have every flavour you could think of."

"Strawberries?"
"Yes."

"Watermelon?"
"Yes."

"Bacon?"
"Quinn Fabray!"

"Sorryno bacon."

"Obviously not every flavour you could think of."

"I apologize, she's cranky."

"Ha, don't apologize, I've had worse, believe me."

"Really?"
"You get a lot of men in here with their wives that would rather be digging their own grave than buying sex toys."
"Do you have shovels on sale?"

With the items paid for, the clerk, Lauren, hands them their bag of goods with a wide smile, "Enjoy! Come back any time."
Rachel smiles widely, "Thank you! We may just do that."

Quinn just looks overly pale, but when her girlfriend nudges her in the ribs, she forces a tight smile, "Thanks"
Lauren laughs, "No problem."

Quinn is oddly quiet all the way home, but Rachel barely has time to notice with the fact she chattered like a child that had
too much lemon sherbet all the way home. It's only when they're in the safety of their own apartment does Rachel notice
that the blonde has been oddly detached since their trip to the sex store.

"Quinn?"
"Hm?" The blonde asks, almost humming as she pulls off her trainers.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine," She arranges her trainers neatly by the door and Rachel is about to ask if she's sure when the blonde turns and
gold eyes lock with hers. She gasps, backing up slightly, and when Quinn smirks, she feels those familiar pheromones rip
through her body, shattering her from the inside out. And Quinn growls, low and primal, and she feels herself almost come
from the tone. "Bed. Now."
*Chapter 13*: Afterglow Part II
A/N: First of all, I'd like to apologize for the wait. Smut has always been an issue for me, and I tend to turn my nose away
from it whenever I get the chance. Thankfully, I managed to get 9000+ words written today after the file was left for over two
weeks untouched. So without further ado, enjoy.

Those golden eyes that flash so dangerously in the afternoon sun no longer scare her. There's a brutal strength, but also a
hidden vulnerability that the wolf only allows her to see. Those eyes show an offer of protection; a promise to love and
cherish. She's no longer scared as Quinn walks toward her, chest heaving. The feeling of terror washes away, only to be
replaced with a feeling so raw she may combust if Quinn does nothing about it. She has to be touched, she has to be
pleasured, she has to be fucked.

Golden eyes narrow in on her mark; the one that she shows proudly on her chest. She knows what Quinn wants to do, and
of course, they've tried teasing bites to the flesh to make her orgasm just that much stronger. But it hasn't stopped her
from wondering if Quinn had the control to bite until her teeth are at that crucial boundary; the boundary, that if breached,
would have her sporting her own fur and fangs. Quinn has come such a long way since they first made love, since she was
first marked, but a bout of hesitation still lingered and with Quinn in such a rabid mood for her body, would she really have
control?
Maybe.

Honestly, she could care less if the bite went through; after all, once turned, Quinn couldn't really take it back. She would
be a werewolf for good. They hadn't spoken of it since Quinn had all but begged her in tears to not put them through that.
But she still thought of it; she still thought of transforming alongside her mate, marking her, hunting togetherhaving a
family together. She knew the risks; she knew she could die and that the ratio of surviving was so low that no sane person
would ever think of doing it. But she knew how difficult it was for a werewolf to be with a human; Cybil had explained that
enough. This wasn't something as petty as wanting to share the bond of being a werewolf; in the long run, if they chose to
have a family, it would be easier on their children.

So as Quinn looms above her, in a somewhat comfortable gesture, she rasies her hand, tugs at the collar of the hoodie
she's wearing, and brushes the tips of her nails against the mark. Flashing gold eyes trace the path they take against the
individual bumps that Quinn's teeth had left. She hears the growl, and she barely hears the underlying, "Mine." But it
makes her shudder none the less.
She slowly begins to dig her nails into the mark and she lets out a long groan when it sends an almost electric pulse down
between her legs. Her clit aches almost uncomfortably as she continues to dig her nails, but she can't stop, she can't.The
thrill of having an Alpha wolf wrapped around her finger, maybe even only in a sexual way, makes her that more wet; only
she can tame this wolf, she has the power to melt even the strongest of wolves and she doesn't even have to try.
She can come from what she's doing, she knows that much, and when she's about to dig just a bit more to find the
wondrous pinnacle that almost feels as if it could shatter her bones, a pale hand reaches out and gently tugs her hand
away.

She whines pitifully at the loss; she was so close, just a few seconds more and she'd be whimpering with her release.
She's already on edge, so she pleads silently to Quinn with her eyes; pupils blown, eyes shining. But Quinn shakes her
head and lets Rachel's hand drop back down to her side, limp and unmoving. She knows the right choice isn't to move,
especially with Quinn watching her so openly, but it doesn't stop her from squeezing her thighs together just to ease the
constant throbbing her clit is being bombarded with.
"Are you fucking yourself?" Quinn asks quietly, eyes sliding down to the crotch of Rachel's tight jeans; they leave nothing to
the imagination, and the blonde sees the shift of thigh quite easily.
"Ngh" She bites down on her tongue and contemplates lying just so she can get herself off without Quinn interrupting,
but instead she stalls, making herself look like she's pondering the question, when really, she's squeezing her thighs
tighter, fucking herself within the tight confines of her jeans.

Quinn knows, but she doesn't stop her. She takes one measured step back and watches, eyes locked as Rachel cups her
hand over the crotch of her jeans, trying to make herself come. She humps the palm of her hand desperately, trying to put
at least some sort of pressure on her clit. But no matter how hard she presses her palm down, or grinds her hips forward
to create some semblance of rhythm, it's just not enough.
Her fingertips fumble for the bottom of her jeans, and she actually has to look down to find the damn thing because her
fingers are trembling. And she's just popping it, hand about to slip inside, but there's a low, menacing growl, so she looks
up, and with teeth bared, Quinn slowly shakes her head.

"Mine."
"Yours." She pants in reply, taking a step forward, bracing her hands on Quinn's chest, "Please." She begs, unashamed,
and she'd laugh at how pathetic she sounded, because Rachel Berry begs for no one, but only Quinn can make her feel
like this; like she needs something so badly that if she doesn't get it she may die.
Golden eyes narrow ever so slightly, back tensing as Rachel's nails drag ever so slowly down, catching on pebbled
nipples, down her breasts, across the flat plane of her abs, before latching onto her belt buckle, the rather daunting looking
eagle of the Philadelphia Eagles; Quinn's favorite football team.
"What do you want?" the husky tone of Quinn's voice makes her groan, and almost as if she has no more strength, she
drops her forehead to rest against Quinn's sternum.
She listens to the quiet thud of her girlfriend's heartbeat, hips grinding forward rhythmically against the buckle of Quinn's
belt. "I want you to fuck me." It's a gentle whisper, muffled in the thin cloth of Quinn's shirt.
"Really?" Quinn whispers back, voice low and husky as her hands finally clamp around Rachel's working waist. She feels
strong muscles flex beneath her fingers - they way they force against her fingertips, battling with a hidden strength to be let
free once more. "Is that really want you want?"

Quinn's pheromones wreck havoc on her, they always have. It's not just physically, of course, there's always the surge of
wetness that floods between her thighs and the itch that tortures her fingertips because all they want to do is slide between
her legs and batter her clit until she comes with a loud howl, but there's also the way those pheromones destroy any
semblance of clear thinking she may have.

With Quinn in such close proximity, giving off the scent that drives her wild, all she can think about is being taken. Of
course, being in Quinn's proximity usually sparked those feelings; she wasn't blind, after all. But it was so raw at times like
these, as if she wanted to wrap herself around Quinn and never let go, as if she wanted Quinn to touch her and make her
soar so high she touched the moon and the stars. It was times like this she truly realized the extent of their bond.

Even the soft brush of Quinn's thumbs against her hipbones drives her insane and she can barely hold herself back from
whining pitifully. It's always a power play when they're both in these moods, and even though Rachel is barely coherent,
she knows that she doesn't want Quinn to win. She wants to be strong too.
"I'm sure." She finally replies strongly, eyes locked with Quinn's. Her voice quivers ever so slightly when her girlfriend's
thumbs press harder against her hipbones, and she silently curses when she shuts her eyes and just melts into the touch.
It's barely erotic, but it still makes her shiver.

But then Quinn's hands are brushing up the sides of her body, fingertips dancing, taking in every inch of Rachel's quivering
body. She gasps, a pitiful little whimper, when Quinn's hands brush up the front of her chest, the palms of her hands
brushing over tense and aching nipples before cupping the sides of her neck.
She's held there as Quinn's eyes dance across her body, and although she's still in her jeans and hoodie, she instantly
feels naked. She feels so open, so exposed, as Quinn takes her in, eyes almost drilling into her soul.

And for just one second, she feels terrified. She's too exposed, even to Quinn. She feels like crying because those golden
eyes are seeing too much for her to bare. Can Quinn no longer see the light that shines within her when it comes to her
dreams? Can the Alpha wolf that she loves and adores see the strength that's been sapped from her after only five
months of being in New York?
She almost pulls away, but then Quinn's fingers are massaging the nape of her neck, and it feels so good, so she melts
into the touch and justrelaxes. The throbbing between her legs is distant, but she still feels it, so while she melts away
into this silent retreat where Quinn calms her with such a simple touch, the throbbing grounds her - reminds her that
something needs to be fixed.
"Are you still sure?" Rachel almost smirks, because she can hear the victory in Quinn's voice, hidden beneath a husky
tone that runs through her like liquid velvet. Quinn wanted to test her, in some capacity, to make sure she was ready for
what they were about to do.

She's not even sure what they're going to do, or what is going to happen, but Quinn's right hand drops down to her clavicle
and her fingertip brushes softly over the uncovered mark there. Rachel shudders, luxuriating in the way that such a simple
touch eases her, comforts her, and she can't bring herself to care.
So she nods and whispers, "Yes." Before strong arms are wrapped around her waist and lifting her from the ground. Her
legs automatically come to wrap around Quinn's waist, arms doing the same around her neck as Quinn walks them toward
the bedroom. And they're just on the threshold when the blonde stops, tears her eyes away from Rachel and glances down
at her side.
There, forgotten by Quinn's feet is the bag that Rachel had dropped only minutes before. It's tipped over onto it's side,
contents spilling out onto the wooden floor. The harsh packaging of the strap on clashes almost obnoxiously against the
wood and Rachel gulps when she finally locks eyes on it. Suddenly, this all got very real.
Quinn looks back to her and Rachel almost gasps when she sees the eyes she grew up with; those beautiful hazel that
stun her into silence whenever she gazes into them. In a moment of clarity and judgement, Quinn, no longer controlled by
her devious wolf, asks a third and final time, "Are you sure?"

This time, she doesn't even need to think about it, and she's barely whispered a, "Yes," before Quinn is bending down, still
holding her tight with one arm as she swipes the contents back inside the bag and picks it up.
She almost feels like giggling when Quinn's eyes connect back with hers, now solid gold, gleaming and deviant. Oh my,
she may not even be able to get out of bed tomorrow.

Or walk.

Quinn settles her softly back onto her feet by the bed, drops the bag on the bedside table and then just stops. For one
second, Rachel wonders if Quinn is fighting with her wolf to try and hold some semblance of control over the situation, and
before she can even think to open her mouth to ask, Quinn's moving again, grabbing the hem of her own shirt and pulling it
over her head.

Rachel watches it, almost helplessly as the shirt lands with a soft thump against the wooden floor. Then her eyes, almost
trained, travel right back up Quinn's pale arm, over her strong shoulder, up the throat, stopping for half a second when her
throat bobs, before darting up to her lips, those lips that she needs to kiss, before locking back on solid eyes.

Then Quinn steps forward, one measured step, and raises her hand, brushing her thumb ever so softly against Rachel's
cheekbone. The singer melts into the touch, biting her inner cheek to stop herself from just blurting out, "I love you," Like
it's the simplest thing to say. She's says it almost every day to Quinn whenever they're together, but there's something
about right now, right this second, where those words are somehow insignificant; those words to carry the power that she
feels right now.

In one simple touch Quinn can make her feel invincible, like she can take on anyone, and maybe this was all she really
needed all along. Maybe she just needed Quinn to take the time from her own job and her own schooling to just sit and
make her feel special again; like she can take Julliard by storm and keep up with Sophia Richmond without even having
to think about it.

So she raises her own hand to cover Quinn's and just smiles, because it's enough for Quinn to know that such a simple
touch is making her feel happy and special and loved. And as she leans forward, tipping up slightly on the tips of her toes,
she bumps her nose ever so gently against Quinn's and chuckles softly, kindly, sweetly, when the blonde's nose scrunches
up.

Quinn may be showing her wolf side much more than her human side, but still, just a simple gesture proves that the
woman she loves and adores is still laying dormant inside, quietly controlling the raging beast that would die to protect
her.
And she's just about to brush her lips against Quinn's parted ones when she hears an almost silent whimper. It almost
tears her apart from the inside, hearing such a pained whisper, but something beneath it, laced beneath the quiet pain
and torment, is a dire want, a need that needs to be fulfilled.

She wastes no time tipping forward, allowing Quinn's arms to wrap around her back, holding her close as they finally
connect in a kiss that almost destroys her. The fighting of the past few months only seems to be a distant memory, the
arguments and the pitying and the lack of self-worth seems only to be a nightmare that never really did come true. So she
melts further into the kiss, moaning softly when Quinn sucks softly on her tongue, teasing it, coaxing it, before Quinn's own
tongue melts against it, circling and rubbing.
Quinn's hands slide slowly down her back, fingertips dragging heavily against her hoodie, almost dragging it down along
the path of her fingers. Until finally, her fingers brush up the inside of Rachel's hoodie, nails almost gliding up the soft
planes of her back, and when the singer gasps into her mouth, pushes her body further against her, clutches desperately
at her shoulders, she does the same thing, just travelling back down.
Soon enough, Rachel is a trembling wreck against her, panting into her mouth, soft and controlled kisses now turning into
heated and sloppy, barely keeping to a rhythm. Quinn knows to pull back and stop, knowing that when she takes a look at
that tan back it'll be laced with red scratch marks, and she looks forward to kissing each and every one of them.

Rachel almost collapses against her when she pulls her hands free, and the grip on her shoulders is almost painful, nails
digging tight into the skin, leaving harsh red half crescent moons on pale skin. It grounds her, stops her from ravaging the
girl before her, because although she can deal with the pain of Rachel's nails digging into her skin, she isn't so sure her
girlfriend could return the sentiment with her own strength, with her Alpha's strength.

Her hands run up Rachel's trembling ones, fingertips coasting over goosebumps, feeling each individual bump and
remembering just how she caused them, how only she causes them, and when her hands reach her wrists, she turns them
over, one by one, and presses a soft and loving kiss to the inside. She feels Rachel's finger clench slightly at the kiss, her
fingertips coasting over the sides of her neck and she allows herself to melt into the touch, allows her wolf to be calmed by
it.
The wolf is anxious, pacing relentlessly in the forefront of her mind, no longer caged by the boundaries she'd raised years
ago. It's free and ready to feast on the one thing it's wanted for almost two years; the mark isn't enough to quench it's thirst.
The bite was only a giveaway, a consolation prize; it wanted first place and it was going to get it, and it's human owner
wouldn't control it.
Not anymore.
Quinn's hand clench around her wrists tightly, but not enough to hurt, and then suddenly she's being pushed onto her back,
flying backwards onto the still unmade bed of that morning. They'd made love and hadn't even bothered to re-arrange the
covers; Quinn was hungry and Rachel needed a shower. Priorities.

"Quinn." She knows she should be terrified, because somehow, she expects Quinn to just launch herself on top of her. But
it never comes. Quinn just continues to stand there, eyes taking in each and every bit of her body. So she does the only
thing she can do, just so they're on an even playing field, she props herself up on one elbow and slowly begins to pull down
the zipper of her hoodie. She watches as Quinn's eyes follow the trail of the zipper, over the swell of her breasts, down her
ribs and down across her stomach, until finally, it's open, both sides left limp by her sides, her torso fully exposed to the
beast above her.

Over the roaring in her ears, she barely hears Quinn's phone go off in her jeans pocket, but what intrigues her more is the
fact that the blonde stops staring at her, pulls her phone out of her pocket and stares at, almost as if she doesn't know
what it is. Rachel props herself up, brow furrowed, because fuck, she's offering herself here and Quinn wants to take a
damn call?

She's about to get up and zip the damn hoodie back up when Quinn drops the phone to the floor, watches it clatter at her
feet and then stares back at her again. So half sat up, Rachel stares right back, one hand already finding the zip. It's
almost like a stand off, and for half a second, her heart stops beating, because Quinn smirks, and she's reminded of the
cocky smirk Quinn's wolf gives off when it comes back from catching a rather hard prey.

But then the smirk is gone. And those eyes harden. And Rachel knows what she wants. So she pulls her hand away from
the zip, pushing herself up on the bed, until she's fully across it, and lays back down again, offering herself once more.

Then Quinn crawls over her, damn near fucking prowling, a wolf stalking it's pray. The blonde's hands stop beside her
head, legs pinned at either side of her waist, and suddenly she feels as if she can't escape anymore. She's completely at
Quinn's mercy and it drives her fucking insane with want.

She arches her back, offering her chest, but Quinn's eyes don't pull away from hers and she knows that if she moves her
hands, they'll be pinned to the bed. She learnt that the hard way when they'd first moved into the apartment together.
They'd unpacked everything, been furniture shopping and got everything for their tiny apartment that they'd need. A
congratulatory fuck on their brand new bed, Rachel had been pulling at the wrist between her legs to make Quinn fuck her
harder, but all it had done was make Quinn pin her hands to the bed. With the strength of one hand pinning down both of
hers, and no matter how much she struggled, she was teased relentlessly for two hours until damn near tears, Quinn finally
let her come.

No, she wouldn't repeat the same mistake twice. It had hurt so good, but she couldn't do it again, no, she needed to come,
not be teased.

Quinn's face seemingly gets closer to her chest and her eyes clench shut at the inevitable touch; that scorching hot mouth
against her nipple. She hears the soft growl against the swell of her chest and biting down on her bottom lip, she waits.
She waits for it. And waits.
And when her eyes open with a huff to find out what the hold up is, she looks down just in time to see that cocky gleam in
golden eyes before her nipple is engulfed in that mouth. And fuck. Her head thumps back down onto the mattress and she
just groans because Jesus fucking Christ, Quinn's mouth should come with a health warning or something because her
body is already humming and aching and writhing, and then Quinn's hand is brushing down over her shoulder and cupping
the swell of her free breast.

Her hands clamp down on the covers, tearing at them just so they won't rise up and cling to Quinn as a lifeline. So she
pulls and tugs as Quinn's tongue swirls around the aching and sensitive nub, as her mouth suckles softly, then harshly, and
then-
Oh fuck, now her teeth and Rachel whimpers out loud, teeth biting down on her bottom lip. Her thighs clench and unclench,
and she can feel the moisture that coats the inside of them, making them slip and slide unaided. And with a well timed
pinch of Quinn's fingers, and a bite to her nipple, she moves to clench her thighs together once more so she can finally
reach the pinnacle she's so desperately seeking for almost an hour.
But then Quinn's legs are moving, between her open legs, and almost painfully forcing them apart.

"Oh fuck!" Rachel shouts out, turning her face to push her cheek into the mattress. She feels like crying, feeling herself be
ripped away from the one thing she needs. It hurts, oh fuck it hurts so bad, but the hurt slowly drains away when Quinn pulls
away from her breast and runs the tip of her tongue up her chest, over her throat and begins suckling there.
And she's melting all over again, because no matter how far Quinn is taken by her wolf, she knows when to turn it down
and notch and just calm her down. The sucking is soft, gentle, and the tongue that swipes against her skin from time to
time just makes her mew, because how could she go from almost ripping her hair out with sexual frustration, to almost
wanting to fall asleep?
Quinn knows her body so well, and over the years, she's become a master at knowing what she wants, where she wants it
and just how to give it to her. They fumbled around of course during the early stages of the relationship, careless brushes
against over sensitive clits that almost boarded on painful, overly harsh bites to inner thighs and pinches to nipples that
boarded on torture. But not anymore; Quinn has learnt her just like she's the lines and strokes of her drawings. It's second
nature.
"Baby" She tears her cheek away from the mattress when the tears of frustration have finally died away and tilts her
head back to give her girlfriend that much more access to her throat and neck. "I can't"
The blonde pulls away, pushing herself up by her hands until her arms are straight, "Hm?" Her lips barely move as she
takes in the blow pupils of her mate, the sweat that trickles down her temple and across her jaw line, the way her chest
heaves, the saliva that glistens off of puckered nipples under the late afternoon sunlight that steams in through the open
windows.
"I," She swallows, her mouth suddenly dry under the intense gaze that Quinn has her locked in. Those eyes could kill, and
she'd die happily under that stare. "I can't." She says simply, hoping that it'll get her point across. But she has no such luck,
because Quinn is dropping onto her forearms, nose nuzzling against her jaw line and she whimpers when the blonde's
tongue laps against a bead of sweat that's been working its way slowly down.
Silence envelops them while Quinn works her tongue against her skin, until finally, mercifully, Quinn kisses up until she
lands at her ear and she nuzzles there, nose nudging against an earlobe. Then huskily, she whispers, "Can't what?" And
Rachel shudders, because Quinn has never sounded so disjointed from her own voice. It doesn't sound like Quinn, of
course the husky voice is there, but the undertone is distinctly feral. If her wolf had a voice, this would be it.
She turns her head toward her girlfriend, kissing just where her cheek meets her ear, "I can't deal with the teasing," She
whimpers, nudging her nose against the shell of Quinn's ear, taking in the smell of the blonde's shampoo from the long
hair that brushes against her nose. "Not todayany other day." A kiss, "But not today." And another, "Please."

She feels the growl before she hears it, it rumbles up from Quinn's chest, and almost vibrates against her own, and
instead of being terrified at turning down the blonde's prospect of relentless teasing, she's oddly turned on. She's denied
an Alpha wolf. And she couldn't give two flying fucks.
But she suddenly feels as if she's standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to be shoved off or pulled away. Quinn's silent,
except for the rumbling growl that's being muffled against her ear. It's excruciating, just laying there, waiting for something,
anything, to signify that she won't be shoved right over into an abyss without even a backward glance.

Quinn sits up on her knees, backside perched on her heels, hands on her knees. And Rachel watches, half expecting for
Quinn to get up and say 'fuck this', but it never comes. Because Quinn's hands reach out and hook at the waistband of her
jeans. The button is still popped, and all that needs to be done is for that fucking zipper to be pulled downbut nothing.
Quinn's hand just stay there, and they almost scorch through her skin.

Her hips arch up into those hands, begging desperately for Quinn to just do something before she loses her goddamn
mind. But then Quinn's hands slide and grasp her hips, holding them there in midair. It's painful, to have her hips held
there, but it's a lesson that need to be learned. She shouldn't have moved; she wasn't told, but she should have known.
"I'm sorry," She whimpers, hands clutching once more at the strewn covers around her. She twists and tears at them, the
discomfort almost reaching to her breaking point, her muscles twinge and send jolts of electricity in every single direction
and when one lands right between her leg, she squeezes her eyes shut and moans, and she's just about to mutter another
apology when Quinn softly, gently, rests her hips back onto the mattress. Rachel has learnt her lesson. "I won't do it again."
And my God, she loves learning a lesson from her wolf.

Then Quinn's hands are back on the waistband of her jeans, slightly ridden down from the position she was in before. And
Rachel stares almost defiantly when Quinn locks eyes with her, almost taunting her to move her hips again. But she won't,
she's learnt her lesson and she won't give Quinn the satisfaction of seeing her break again. It's a silent 'fuck you' and the
blonde smirks.

As a reward, her zipper is pulled and she lets out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. The face of her black
lace panties meets Quinn's eyes and she can almost hear her take one deep breath in to smell the huskiness from
between her legs.
Quinn leans down, under the pretence to muzzle her naval, but it's only to get closer to that smell that she so desperately
craves. Her tongue flicks out and laps against that cute little belly button and she takes pleasure in the way that the
singer's stomach tense and shakes, so she does it a couple more times, and keeps on eye carefully on one of the hands
that pulls at the covers of their bed. Rachel's behaving herself. Rachel's taught herself so well in how to control herself,
even when those pheromones destroy her from the inside out.
So Quinn drags her tongue down, swiping it across the tan skin just above the waistband of her panties. She wants to
nuzzle between Rachel's legs, she wants to bathe in that wetness, she wants to taste it on her tongue and she wants to
make her mate just shatter against her mouth. She's getting antsy at is; she can only imagine how Rachel is feeling.

Hands grab the sides of Rachel's jeans, and she sits up, holding her hands there. Rachel's cheek is back to being
pressed against the mattress, eyes clenched shut, and my God she's never looked so beautiful. She looks just like a lamb
to the slaughter; a prey that's resigned it's fate to being killed by it's predator.

Her wolf howls intensify, now so loud it's almost a scream at the forefront of her mind. She's fucked around for too long, the
wolf has tired all of it's meagre patience. The prey needs to be taken care of.

Her arms tremble, trying to control the wolf that snarls for control, and she takes one heaving breath to calm it before
ripping those fucking jeans from Rachel's legs. The singer yelps when Quinn almost fights with the piece of clothing, but
then they're gone, thrown across the room to slam against the closed door of their wardrobe before landing with a dull
thump against the ground.

"Oh fuck," Rachel whispers hotly, arching her back when Quinn's face goes straight between her legs, nuzzling against the
sodden black lace of her panties. Her nose bumps so deliciously against her battered clit and her hands move.

The blonde's eyes snap to those hands and watch them, and Rachel watches right back, and instead of burying her
fingers in that golden mane of hair, they move up to the edge of the mattress and just cling.

A beat, a heavy heartbeat as Quinn continues to watch, until those eyes are closed again, and Quinn continues to have
her fun. Nose nuzzling against a dripping slit, the coarse material of Rachel's panties scratching against the tip. The smell
almost breaks her, and she hear her wolf whimpering softly at the smell, silently telling it's owner that it wants more.
So she gives it more.

She drags her tongue up, sliding between her girlfriend's slit, tasting the come that coats sodden panties and hums at the
husky and heady taste that rests on her tongue. She rolls her tongue around her mouth, feeling the explosion on her taste
buds at finally tasting Rachel. She'd gone down on her just that morning, and she'd tasted her then, felt her tremble and
shake against her mouth and tongue, but this is different. The taste was more prominent. She needed more.

Rachel lets her teeth unclench from around her bottom lip when she hears Quinn shift beneath her, seemingly getting into a
better position, maybe to pull those god forsaken panties off. So she opens her eyes and looks down between her legs,
but Quinn isn't sitting up, she's laying face down on the bed, legs dangling off the edge, nose nuzzling at the crease of her
thigh.

"Baby?" She coughs to fight off the croak in her voice and flexes her hands around the edge of the mattress when
Quinn's mouth seemingly gets closer to the prize. "What're you doing?" Then one of the blonde's arms are wrapping
around her thigh, clamping it open in a soft but stable grip, and the other slides up between her legs, two fingers poised at
the side of that barrier.

"Quinn?" She asks once more, raising her head a little to get a better look at what her girlfriend is planning. But just as she
gets to the position she wants to be, she watches those fingers pull the barrier of her panties to the side, leaving her
exposed and open and when the cool air hits her clit, she moans and clenches her thighs, feeling Quinn's hand flex around
one of them.

Oh fuck, she's so impatient she can't even be bothered taking her panties off. The visual alone almost makes her come.
It's only a small shudder, an interlude, but it's enough to make her head drops back down onto the mattress and her hands
grip even tighter, stabilizing herself because Moses, she may not come out of this alive.
She starts running through the people she loves in her head because she might not get another chance. She loves her
dad, Quinn, her college friends, Broadway, her Barbra Streisand memorabilia, the cafeteria lady that always gives her
extra croutons with her salad, the collection of playbi-

Holy shit. Quinn's tongue swipes up the length of her clit and the feeling of that hot flesh against her folds just sends her
into overdrive. She twitches and bucks while Quinn's hand keeps her levelled, but then Quinn's mouth envelops her clit,
sucks on it, beating it from it's little hood and flicks it desperately with her tongue. And Rachel just breaks, nails tearing
into the mattress, hips humping up against that glorious fucking mouth and she just explodes. She whimpers and moans
and thanks every damn God there is when that tension inside her finally snaps, her pussy clenches and suddenly that flood
of moisture that she'd been holding in for over an hour just comes flooding out and into her girlfriend's mouth.

She's still trembling minutes later when Quinn continues to lap up that moisture, the tip of her tongue darting in and out of
her entrance on each trip. She clenches every time that tongue dips in further and she wants to ask for it, beg for it, but
she'll be rewarded if she doesn't. She just needs to be patient, she just needs to take whatever Quinn gives her, and if
she's good, she'll get what she wants.
It takes ten minutes of Quinn's incessant licking to finally make her snap. "Quinn! For fuck sake!" Quinn's nails dig into her
thigh and she gasps; Quinn assumes she's being bitchy, she has to rectify it. So in the huskiest tone she can muster
without coming off as cheap, she cants her hips up and whispers, "Tongue fuck me."

The growl against her wet folds is enough to let her know she said the right thing. So she centres herself, memorizes the
way that Quinn's hand flexes against her thigh, the way those two fingers continue to hold those sodden panties to the
side. She just wants them gone. She wants to ask, but she's getting what she wants right now; she can't be greedy.
Quinn's tongue circles her clit in small circles, and her body twitches of it's own accord, it's been ten minutes since she last
came, so she's still sensitive, and my God it feels amazing, and she relaxes herself into those slow, almost lazy circles, but
then Quinn's tongue is gone, trailing down, mouth sucking on a fold, sucking it into her mouth, tasting her, before doing the
exact same thing to the other.
Rachel's hands itch to thread through Quinn's hair, it's torturous, and when Quinn's tongue comes that much closer to her
entrance, her hands almost come off the edge of the mattress to do just that. But she clutches harder, shoves her cheek
into the mattress and just waits. Because if she looks, if she even thinks about it, she'll just break rule number one and
then she'll get nothing.
But the blonde's tongue is right there, poised and ready to work it's way inside. So she hold her breath, melts into the way
Quinn's nails drag softly over her inner thigh and just collects herself. She aches to touch Quinn, but she aches more to feel
that tongue inside her.

Then that tongue, almost searing hot, pushes its way inside her and her eyes just snap open. Her jaw drops and she just
gasps because it feels like a silent retribution; this is her sweet punishment. Her back arches, her nails dig further, her
cheek shoves further into the mattress and then it's there.
That glorious tongue is all the way inside her and she feels her muscles clench and unclench around it. But Quinn's not
moving, and it's driving her insane, because my God, what the fuck does she have to do to just get fucked into the damn
bed? But she waits, because she knows her girlfriend isn't that cruel. She waits, pussy walls still clenching around the hot
muscle that holds dormant inside her. And she waits. And waits.
But then she just snaps.

Almost of their own accord, her hands unclench from around the mattress, fly down and bury themselves into the luscious
long locks of golden hair. Quinn's eyes snap open, her breathing no longer stable but ragged, and Rachel knows instantly
she's done the wrong thing.
Quinn wasn't being intentionally cruel. She was taking her time because her wolf was taking control. But now Rachel's
broke a rule, and even though she knows she has, her hips work in a slow rhythm against that tongue. And she cries out
because it feels so fucking glorious, but she despises herself for breaking the one thing that she always told Quinn she
wouldn't do.

"If I take my time, it's not because I'm being an ass to you. You know that, right?"

"I thought you just liked seeing me sweat."

"Wellthat too." A chuckle, "But my wolf is still powerful. I may be able to control it more than I ever have before, but
there's just some times when it threatens to break past that barrier that I've set. So just let me take my time, okay?"
Oh God, what has she done?
But she can't stop moving. Her hands slide to the back of Quinn's head and push, trying desperately to get that tongue
further inside her, and she feels the ragged breath that escapes from Quinn's nose battering her clit, and the growl that
vibrates up her tongue and sends pleasant jolts through her pussy. Fuck that growling is so hot. So she keeps going,
riding faster and harder, head pushed back, jaw unhinged, hands clutching desperately in golden hair, and that growling
just gets louder, and the vibrations just get stronger. And she makes the mistake of looking down, because the golden
eyes are full of lust and temptation and before she can even register what's happened, her nails dig painfully into the back
of Quinn's head, she lets out a primal scream as another orgasm rips straight through her, and she never pulls her eyes
away from Quinn's when she does it.

She gasps for air, chest heaving, tongue darting out to wet dry lips. She's utterly spent after that. It'd almost ripped her
apart from the inside; she's never felt something so intense. And she'd looked in Quinn's eyes while she blatantly defied
her. Ohfuck.
Quinn hasn't moved from between her legs, she doesn't hear any more growling, or the pants of air against her. But she
feels her, feels that hand that almost feels as if it's burning into her skin. And hesitantly, she looks down, locking eyes with
her girlfriend.

The blonde's head is bowed, chest heaving, face covered in a curtain of gold. She bites on her bottom lip and
contemplates what to say; she's lucky she's not being pinned down right now. She may not understand, but she knows how
strong that wolf is, and what it can do to Quinn when it wants something, how it hurts Quinn from the inside out when she
defies it.
"Quinn I'm-,"

Quinn's head snaps up, mouth in a snarl, eyes glittering, "Quinn." She tries to back away slowly, but then the other hand is
being wrapped around her thighs and pulling her back down again. Shit.

"Quinn I'm sorry, I" She swallows, heart thumping painfully in her chest when Quinn slowly begins to crawl over her,
letting go of her thighs so they land with a thump against the bed. She tries to move, but her legs still feel like jelly in the
afterglow of her orgasm, and Quinn's getting that much closer and she feels her heart in her damn throat and
"You're so fucking sexy."

And she moans because Quinn just sounds soprimal.

Her hands come up to rest on Quinn's shoulders, holding her there, and Quinn seems content to just stay in her position,
poised on all fours above her. But she sees Quinn's eyes narrow in at the mark on her chest and her jaw clenches.

"Quinn" She waits for just a beat, "Are you in control?" Because they haven't spoken about this, and although she wants
it, she doesn't want to do anything Quinn would regret because she wasn't in control of herself.

"Barely," She growls back, then leans down and nuzzles that mark, kissing and lapping softly at it with her tongue, "But
don't tell me to stop. Please" Her voice, laced with lust, still holds a broken tone and Rachel breaks. She doesn't want
Quinn to stop.
"I won't." And she dots a kiss to the blonde's temple, "I won't ever tell you to stop." She hears the whimper against her skin
and she drops her head back to the mattress, running her hands up and down Quinn's back to soothe her.
And then Quinn is moving, pushing herself back up onto her knees, taking a steadying breath as she watches the girl
beneath her. Her wolf is slamming against that barrier that she's created; it's almost free, only a few more slams and it'll
be free, and she's terrified, but her wolf is telling her it'll be okay, that Rachel will still be hers.

"Take your panties off." She whispers, climbing off the bed to rid herself of her own jeans that are fast becoming a
menace. She watches Rachel drag those drenched panties down her legs, and she's only got her belt unbuckled by the
time they land with a wet thump by her feet. "God damn." That fucking smell.

"You do that to me" And Rachel's hand reaches between her legs, parting herself with two fingers, showing that red and
swollen clit to her girlfriend, "You always make me so wet, Q."
Quinn's hand's tremble as they finally get to the buttons of her jeans. No zipper, thank the Lord for small mercies. She rips
her the buttons apart and frees herself from the confines of her jeans, letting them drop to the floor before she steps out of
them.

"Take them off" Rachel whimpers, eyes landing on almost transparent white panties soaked with come. Quinn couldn't
look less virginal if she tried.

So the blonde does, hooking her thumbs into the waistband and pushing them down. Rachel almost feels like laughing at
how fast Quinn rips them down her legs, but then she sees that trimmed patch of wet hair and her mouth instantly water.
"Come here" And she sits up, scoots over to the edge of the bed, pussy dragging deliciously against the soft cotton of
their already wet sheets, and pulls Quinn towards her with well placed hands on her waist.

Quinn runs a hand through her hair, pushing those bangs away from her eyes. And they watch one another, and Rachel
smiles, because she knows that Quinn is still there; still on edge, but still there, deep inside. She wants to lean up and kiss
her, to show her how she loves her, but those pheromones are driving havoc on her body and all she can do is bury her
nose into those folds, tongue lapping up the moisture that's gathered at the blonde's aching entrance.

"Fuck" She hears whispered above her, and the hand in her hair clutches desperately, holding her close as she finally
tastes the sweet come that belongs to her girlfriend. It's so sweet, but also so husky and heady and it drives her taste buds
wild. She wants more, so she parts her girlfriend with two well placed fingers and sucks on those inner folds, taking all they
have to offer her.

Quinn gasps, head tilted back, hips rocking in a muted motion, trying to brush the tip of her mates nose against her clit. It's
touch and go, and she finds herself beginning to get a little ticked off when she can't get the angle just right, but then it
doesn't matter anymore, because those two fingers are sliding inside her, and she almost tips up onto her tiptoes at the
intrusion of being filled so quickly.

And then Rachel pumps her fingers, pushing them deeper with each and every thrust and Quinn just stands there and
takes it because she loves being filled by her girlfriend's fingers. Her tongue still licks at her clit and it's timed so perfectly
with each thrust that she feels herself thrown toward her orgasm, and she'd feel somewhat embarrassed by how quickly
she's going to come, but it's been over two hours and she hasn't come once and she just deserves it.

So she rocks herself against those fingers, gasping through a groan when they hit her cervix, "Do it again." She orders
huskily, wolf battling against her barrier again, trying to force it's way through to take control. Oh God, she's so close, and
her wolf is so close and she doesn't know which one to control and it's just so fucking difficult and-,

Rachel hits it again, mouth sucking on her abused clit, fingers drilling into her, scissoring and flexing against her g-spot as
they pull back out and she's just gone.

She howls, hands clutching desperately at the back of Rachel's head, hips furiously working against those fingers, her jaw
clenches, her eyes squeeze shut and just as she reaches the pinnacle, she throws all her strength into surviving this
orgasm, and when she comes, her wolf breaks free from it's confines.
Rachel continues to suck softly at her clit, fingers thrusting lazily as she brings her girlfriend back down. She hums happily
as she pulls back, pulling her fingers free to suck at the thick moisture that coats them. "Hmmm"

She glances up, and just as the tips of her fingers settle on her bottom lip, halfway from pulling out her mouth, she just
freezes. Quinn's hands are still clenched in her hair, solid gold eyes staring off at the opposite wall, chest heaving, lips
clenched so hard they're almost white.
"Q-Quinn?" Fuck. She raises her free hand to wrap around Quinn's trembling wrists, she feels the heartbeat that
threatens to burst free through the skin and calms herself before she continues, "Quinn, are you still in control?"
Those golden eyes move slowly down to lock on Rachel's wide brown, and for a second, right at the back of her mind, she
hears a human voice commanding her to control herself. But then that voice is gone when those wet fingers drop from
Rachel's lips and come to rest on her lap.

"Are you sure?"

She hadn't understood it at the time, because honestly, she thought it was just Quinn asking if she was sure about using
the sexual aid they'd bought only that afternoon. Of course she'd be nervous; it was the first she'd ever used one, so she'd
said she was sure. But now she knows exactly what Quinn meant when she asked three times, why she had to make sure
that she wanted it.
Did Quinn know she was going to lose control? Or that if she did, Rachel would have to face the consequences of that?
But what were the consequences? To be bitten? To be turned without the chance to argue the fact? She didn't know.
But she stands up, and Quinn's eyes follow her path. She cups that pale face in her hands and places such a soft kiss to
those lips, and it takes a few minutes, but eventually they slacken and move against hers in an unmatched rhythm that
would put anyone off, but feels oddly comforting to her.

Quinn's still there, even if her wolf has taken her place, just for a little while. So she'll indulge the wolf and give it what it
wants, and then, maybe the next time they have sex like this, the wolf won't make an appearance. It's trail and error. Now
they're at the thin line where wolf meets human.
And the wolf finally has a voice.

So Rachel pulls back, licking her lips, tasting herself on Quinn's lips, "Do you still want to?"
Quinn's hand slowly raises and she brushes a lock of hair from her eyes, glancing at the fingertips when they pull away.
"Yes I do."
Rachel smiles softly, "Has this ever happened to you before?"

Quinn shakes her head.

"So you've never beenin human formbut have your wolf mentality?"

Quinn shakes her head again, "I heardstories from my father butno, it's never happened to me." Who would have
thought Quinn's wolf was soliterate? "I'm kind of balancing right now. Between the two."

And the blonde drops her hand again, brushing it against her stomach, "It's weird, not feeling fur."
Rachel watches and sits down slowly as Quinn examines her own body. Right now, the Alpha wolf needs to get used to
the body it's in. It's so used to having four legs and fur. This is new ground for the both of them.
"So you're Quinn's wolf?"

"Yes." Quinn mutters, distracted, as she runs her hands behind her body and seemingly touches the swell of her own
backside, "Interesting. I see why you like it so much."

Rachel has the good grace to blush. "You're not that much different from Quinn."
Gold eyes snap to hers and hands fall limp at her sides, "I'm still Quinn, just the moredominant side."

"Two Quinn's" Rachel whispers, propping her elbow on her thigh and resting her chin in the palm of her hand, "I thought
one was enough but two" She trails off, glancing to the side of Quinn's still body.
"Is that bad?" Rachel glances up at her once more, watching that cute brow furrow as if she's trying to solve a difficult
equation, "Does having two Quinn's scare you?"
"It doesn't scare me, no." She sighs, trying to find some sort of answer, "It's justweird, that I'm talking to her wolf. Is she
still there?"
"At the back of my mind." Quinn chuckles, "She's telling me off; she doesn't like being locked behind the barrier I'm
constantly locked in."
"She's only doing it for your own good."
"I know." Then Quinn drops to her knees and rests her hands on Rachel's knees, thumbs brushing gently against the tan
skin, "Do you want her back?"
She isn't scared, but the discomfort of having the Quinn she fell in love with locked in the back of an Alpha's mind is too
much to bare. "Please."
The blonde smiles, "I wouldn't have hurt you, you know."

Rachel smiles sadly, "I know."

And Quinn sighs, "Maybe someday, then?"

And this time, she smiles happily, "Someday."

"Remind me to get a muzzle for that fucking thing." Quinn growls softly, rubbing her temple with two fingers, eyes fully hazel
as they look at her surroundings. But then Rachel is in her arms, face nuzzling her neck. "Whoa."
"You're back."

"Yeahone minute I'm trying to get out and thenI'm back in my body." The Alpha wolf prowls silently in the back of her
mind and she sends a silent thanks to it for putting her back in her body.

"That's never happened to you before?"

Quinn shakes her head and pulls back, dotting a kiss to her forehead, "No. I mean, it's happened to my dad and Alfred
told me about it. It's rare, but it happens."
"Your wolf can control your human body?"

"Yeah, it kind of has to balance itself between turning into a wolf and not allowing the human side to take control. It was
oddly discomforting."

"You should call Alfred about it"

"Yeah." Quinn nods, then smiles, "Tomorrow, not right now." And then she leans forward, softly pressing a kiss to Rachel's
parted lips, "Unlessyou don't want to anymore?" But Rachel's already melting into the kiss, the Alpha interlude a mere
memory as Quinn kisses her, loves her. This is the Quinn she wants, the Quinn that she needs.

"You're not going to lose control againare you?" She hears herself ask as she's laid back down onto the bed. She
shuffles up to the headboard, lips still brushing Quinn's as she follows.
"No" Quinn shakes her head, breath ghosting Rachel's lips, "Unless you want me to?"
"I " She licks her lips and gasps when Quinn flicks her own tongue out to flick against her own. "N-Not right now."

"Someday?"

"Maybe someday, then?"

She bites down on her bottom lip and nods, "Someday."

Quinn smiles, kissing her quickly before pulling back and reaching into the discarded bag on the bedside table. She pulls
out the packaging that lays inside and begins to rip open the box, all the while Rachel contemplates what just happened.
She's wanted desperately by both wolf and human, and the Alpha Quinn seems charming enough She shakes her head
softly, someday. Not right now. Right now, she wants normal Quinn. The Quinn she fell In love with in school, the one she
moved to New York with, the one she's starting a life with.

"How the" Quinn glances at the box, hazel eyes narrowed, "How are you suppose to" She mutters to herself,
snapping Rachel from her own dizzying thoughts.

"What?"
Quinn drops the instructions to her lap and pouts her lips, "Obviously you put thethingin the hole" A blonde eyebrow
flicks up, "But how do you get into the damn thing?"

Rachel giggles, and those eyes narrow in on her playfully, "What're you laughing at, Berry?"

"You don't know to" Then she stops herself and chuckles, "I'll help."
Quinn feels put out, but lets her girlfriend help none the less. It takes a hell of a lot of manoeuvring on both their parts, and
by the time Quinn has the damn thing on and dildo attached, Rachel is on her stomach, face planted in a pillow, laughing.
"Laugh it up" Quinn grumbles, sat up on her knees, arms crossed over her bare chest.

"Oh God I'm" And she sits up, glances back down at it and just laughs all over again, "Oh God, I shouldn't find it funny
but"

And she's in the pillow again.

"I'm gonna take the damn thing off if you keep laughing" Quinn grumbles, cheeks flush with a blush that threatens to
engulf her whole face. She feels oddlyattractivewearing it but if Rachel's just going to laugh, there's no point.
"I'm sorry. I won't laugh." Rachel wipes her face on the pillow and rolls over onto her back, eyes suddenly smouldering,
voice husky, "Come 'ere."
Hot damn on a donut.

Quinn crawls over her, nudges Rachel's legs with her hand, and when Rachel's legs are wide enough, she settles herself
between them. Chest to chest, hip to hip, the dildo rubbing deliciously against her inner thigh, they slowly melt into a kiss,
Rachel's hands wrapped around her back, holding her close.
The singer moans quietly into her mouth, hips rising and falling, trying to manoeuvre the dildo closer toward her pussy.
She wants it. She needs it inside her. She needs Quinn inside of her.

Breathless, Quinn finally pulls back, looking down between them both to see Rachel's hips working against the dildo,
"Take me." She hears whispered above her and she fights back a groan and fights her wolf back into it's cage when it
howls at the demand.

She grabs the hilt in her hand, and with one final glance up at her girlfriend, pushes in. She feels Rachel's fingers dig into
her back, the way they crawl down, and she groans as they travel across each individual bump of her spine. She continues
to push, watching for any discomfort in Rachel's face, but all she can see is pure pleasure, jaw unhinged, eyes squeezed
shut as she luxuriates in the feeling of being filled fully by her girlfriend.

"Holy sh-," Rachel chokes out when Quinn is fully buried inside her, hips once again touching, "D-Don't move." She
whispers, allowing her muscles to get used to the intrusion. Never has she taken anything as big.

There was one time when Quinn had found the vibrator she'd purchased in Lima when they were still waiting for the right
moment to be with one another, and she'd sat on their newly purchased bed, moving boxes strewn around them as she
watched Rachel fuck herself with her very own vibrator.

"Feel good?"

"Does it feel good?" Quinn asks softly against her ear, trying with all her might not to thrust her hips into the trembling
girl beneath her.

She was torn apart by embarrassment and arousal. She was embarrassed because Quinn had teased her about the
bright pink vibrator, she fucked herself thoroughly, thrusting that vibrator as far it would go inside her, because Quinn
watched.
And all she can do is groan because Quinn's hips start to move of their own accord, "Oh God please, just fuck me."

Quinn holds herself up on her forearms, pressing a kiss to Rachel's sweating forehead, and just for a second, Rachel
wonders if she'll pull out, because the strap on is slowly pulling free from her and her pussy clenches around it just to try
and keep it in. And all she can feel is the tip of that thick cock, and then she just feels everything.
Quinn slams relentless into her, groaning above her as the clit insert nudges deliciously against her own clit. Rachel claws
desperately at her back, moaning and writhing as that soaking cock works its way in and out of her tight pussy.
Fuck fireworks, this is a fucking supernova behind her eyeballs. She clutches desperately as Quinn forces herself deep
inside her, and she hates the fact that she can't get any deeper, but she tries anyway, forcing her hips up to meet each
and every one of Quinn's strong thrusts. She's so close, yet so far, and every time Quinn thrusts, she's pushed toward the
pinnacle.
She can feel the come that soaks her thighs, soaks the strap on, soaks Quinn, and she's never felt something so beautiful;
so perfect. They're connected together, and it's almost as if the strap on is really a part of Quinn.

And she can't stop it, because as she rips out a moan from her battered throat, she begs, "Fuck me with your cock." And
she hears that primal growl rip free from Quinn's throat, and suddenly, Quinn's body is flushed against her own, furthering
their connection as the blonde continues to thrust inside of her.
"Oh my" Rachel grips desperately at Quinn's shoulders, "Fuck you're so good!" Quinn presses her face against
Rachel's chest, sucking over the mark that she put there over a year ago, the same mark that proves to everyone that
Rachel belongs to her. She sucks hard, she bites harder and she knows that it just adds to the pleasure that wrecks her
mate's body.

But as she bites, knowing to stay well behind the threshold that she refuses to go over, a single thought flickers through her
mind. She could it. Right now. She could bite and turn Rachel. Rachel could be a wolf, just like her. The Alpha in the back
of her howls in agreement, forcing itself back against the barrier, not hard enough to break, but hard enough to know that it
has to be done.
Quinn groans forcefully. Rachel needs to come before she changes her mind. She won't do that, she won't take the risk.
No way in fucking hell. So she thrusts, noticing how much more difficult it is to push inside her girlfriend. Rachel is close,
she can feel it. So she forces past the tensing, "So" A harsh thrust, "Fucking," And another, "Tight."
And Rachel whimpers with each thrust, arching her back, eyes clenched shut, "I'm gonna fucking come," She whispers
desperately, hips working as fast as they can as Quinn's cock continues to fuck her into submission.
"Come for me" And Quinn's hand is sliding between their sweat slicked bodies, and it only takes a few furious swipes
from the pads of her fingers against Rachel's clit, and she's coming. Rachel's screaming and she barely registers it from
the howling in her own ears, the howl of her wolf as it tries to make her clench its teeth around that mark and sink in, and
she can barely feel the long and harsh trek that Rachel's fingers take down her back over the overwhelming pleasure of
her own orgasm.
"F-F-Fuck" Rachel whines, gasping as Quinn's body collapses against hers. She pushes the bangs out of Quinn's eyes
and kisses her forehead softly, "A-Are you okay?" She asks, wetting her dry lips.

Quinn doesn't reply, but Rachel can feel the thunderous beating of her heart against her own chest. And then, "I think I'm
dead."

And Rachel just chuckles, "Trust me, you're not dead." The singer swirls patters with the tips of her fingers against Quinn's
back, noticing the harsh red streaks that mark her back, "Sorry about your back."

"Don't worry about it."

Rachel's eyes narrow slightly at Quinn's tone, but she lets it go when the blonde pulls back, a small smile on her face,
"Was that good or was that good?"

Rachel giggles, "The second." Then she glances down, noticing they're still connected, "Could you?" She asks,
gesturing with a flick of her hand.
"Oh." And Quinn pulls back, muttering a soft apology when Rachel mews. She pulls the strap on off and drops it on top of
the bag that still sits on the table, "We never did use that lube."
"I was soaked, we didn't need it."

Quinn chuckles softly, "Guess so"

And Rachel watches her as Quinn's eyes drift off into space, she follows them and notices that those beautiful eyes are
just locked on the leg of the bedside table. There's nothing of interest, so it worries her. "What's wrong?"
The blonde sighs softly, "Nothing, why would you ask?"

"Because you're being awkward."

"I'm always awkward."

"Quinn."

And she sighs, rolling off of Rachel to sit on the edge of the bed. She clenches her hands together in her lap, drops her
chin to her chest and just shuts her eyes.
"What's wrong? Did I do something?"

"No baby, you were perfect," She hears Quinn mutter softly, "It's me."
"You were perfect too"
Quinn smiles softly, eyes still closed, "Thanks."

"Tell me what's wrong." Rachel whispers, sitting up, pushing herself against Quinn's back. The blonde doesn't reply
straight away, so she takes the time to kiss the angry marks she's left on her girlfriend's back. She kisses each mark, licks
at each mark that has even the tiniest drops of blood and brushes her fingertips in a silent apology. She knows Quinn likes
her back being scratched during sex, but it's still nice just to apologize for messing up her back.

Quinn mumbles something, almost twenty minutes later and Rachel dots a kiss to the back of her shoulder before saying,
"Say again?"
"I almost bit you."

Rachel smiles, confused, "You bit me anyway."

"No" Quinn glances over her shoulder, locking eyes, "I almost bit you."

"Babywhat're you-,"
"I could have turned you Rachel." She forces out, brow furrowed angrily, "I could have turned you and I almost did."
*Chapter 14*: Snowfall
Quinn is chewing on her thumbnail by the time Rachel settles a steaming mug of coffee on the kitchen table before her.
With a quick bite to her lip, she drops her hand and cups it around the mug, luxuriating in the warmth that shoots up her
arm and warms her to the core.

Rachel smiles softly, brushing an errant lock of hair behind her ear before heading back into the kitchenette to start on her
own cup of tea. It's a hassle to make two separate beverages, but coffee always seems to calm Quinn down, so even if it
takes her twice the time to make a cup of tea with a generous helping of honey for her hoarse throat, she's only happy to
oblige.

"I'm sorry that I'm making such a mountain out of a molehill," She hears uttered behind her, but she doesn't stop from
placing the kettle on the stove and setting it on a slow burn. It's the first Quinn's talked since they left the bedroom, so
Rachel stays quite, but lets her girlfriend know she's listening by bracing her forearms on the kitchen counter, looking
down at the dining table that's pushed up against the counter wall. "I seem to make things totally overdramatic, huh?"

Rachel chuckles at that, because while Quinn can be little dramatic at best, she has her beaten by a mile. "It's nothing to
be ashamed of; the fact you wanted to bite me. I mean," She huffs out a breath, trying to get the right words, "Honestly, it
just shows how much you want me." Then she adds with a shy, "I quite like it."
She catches the way Quinn's eyes roll, but says nothing, hoping that the blonde will somehow continue the conversation. It
doesn't come however, because Quinn takes a long pull of her black coffee and just stays silent.
It's a constant struggle at the best of times to get Quinn to open up. Of course, the whole bonded thing makes that a little
easier, but Quinn constantly has a barrier up that sometimes even she can't get through. She either hides her emotions, or
shows them and doesn't talk about them.

The sharp whistle of the kettle behind her breaks her from her thoughts, and just like a well choreographed dance, she
turns off the heat, pours the boiling water, pulls out the teabag, grabs the honey from the cupboard and lets one large
serving dollop from a teaspoon right into her tea.
She hums around the mug as she sips; that would do wonders for her voice tomorrow. After all, if she's going to beg for
her role back, her voice and body has to be in top condition. She makes a mental note to cover up the hickeys that Quinn
has no doubt left on her throat and chest before sitting down opposite the quiet blonde.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" The singer asks, resting her mug on the table.
Quinn's staring into space, hand still clenched around her mug, so much so that the tips of her fingers are white. Part of
Rachel wants to be worried, but she's so used to this whole song and dance routine that she just leans back in her seat
and waits it out. The blonde will crack eventually.

It takes twenty minutes until Quinn finally opens her mouth again.
"It's not the fact that I almost bit you that has me annoyed," Rachel is staring at the bottom of her now empty mug when she
hears the almost hoarse voice of her girlfriend. She glances up, locks eyes and just listens."It's the fact that, just for a
second, I didn't like the person that I was."

She's just about to bite on her inner cheek to stop herself, but before she can, she asks, "How do you mean? I thought you
liked your wolf?"

Quinn huffs out a breath and leans back in her seat, "I do. I'm proud of my wolf. But it wasn't my wolf that was the issue."
It's agonizing, just waiting, but it's obviously hard for Quinn, so she remains silent, tapping out a tune on her mug with her
fingernails. It passes the time, and when she sees the tension melt away from the blonde's shoulders, she taps out the
beginnings of her favorite song.

"It wasn't my wolf that made me want to bite you." Quinn swallows, throat bobbing wildly, "It was me. I wanted to bite you.
Just for one second, I felt so greedyand I just wanted to sink my teeth in and-," She breaks off and shakes her head. "I was
being selfish," Then she locks eyes with Rachel and the singer can't help but gasp when she sees the tears shining in her
girlfriend's eyes, "I'm so sorry."

And Rachel reaches out, pulling Quinn's clenched hand away from the mug before taking it into hers, stroking her thumb
ever so softly over those the soft knuckles. They sit there, Quinn staring at their intertwined hands, Rachel smiling softly at
her, "You have nothing to be sorry about. Obviously we do still have things to talk about in that department and I'll be willing
to talk about them whenever you're ready." She squeezes Quinn's hand, "Okay?"
But does she really want to talk about it? She has been trying to avoid the subject since Rachel brought it up in her
childhood bedroom and she'd done well so far to just change the subject whenever she thinks Rachel is close to bringing
it up. It was only a moment of weakness that brought them to this; a part of Quinn that didwant to change Rachel and have
her become a werewolf, but every bone in her body tells her that it's the wrong thing to do.
Rachel could fucking die; she could die right there in her arms and she wouldn't be able to do shit about it because she let
her own selfish desires and Rachel's god damn rambles change her mind.

She can't do it. She can't lose Rachel. Because even though there's a chance she may survive the change, there's always
a higher chance that she won't. And then what would she do? Lay her girlfriend in the ground, cry at her funeral, blame
herself until finally it got the better of her and went completely off the rails?
What would she do? Would she abandon her human life and go live in a fucking forest for the rest of her days? Would she
hunt and try not to cringe at the sight of blood as it reminded her of the blood that Rachel coughed up from her lungs as the
change crushed and tore her body from the inside? Whenever she howled into the night would she be reminded of those
bone chilling screams as Rachel's life was ripped from her?
"No. It's not going to happen." Quinn growls, clasping her free hand over Rachel's, "It can't happen Rachel, no matter what
you say, I won't do it. I won't change you."

"Don't you think I'm allowed to have my own opinion on this? It's my decision, Quinn. I know the risks, but I'm not just doing
this to be selfish, I'm not just doing this to hurt you, I'm doing this for us."

"How the hell is me killing you doing anything for us?"

Rachel sighs, pulling her hand back from Quinn's strong grasp until it lays limp in her lap. She rubs at her wrist, feeling the
warmth from the blonde's hot blooded touch, "What does it mean when a werewolf marks their partner?"

A blonde eyebrow flicks up, "Rachel-,"

And Rachel buts in, voice strong and demanding, "Humour me."

Hazel eyes roll, "When a werewolf marks their partner, in no uncertain terms, it's almost like a marriage. The biter and the
mark wearer are to stay together, share a life with one another, until one or both their lives come to an end." It's said so
dryly, and Rachel almost wants to lash out at the tone, but when Quinn says, "Is that what you wanted to hear?" She does.
"I don't even know why I bother," She pushes out of her seat with a huff, rips her mug from the table and stomps into the
kitchen, "Having a conversation with you is like pulling teeth!"
"Then stop asking me to give you an early death sentence!" Quinn grumbles back, forcing herself out of her own seat to
lean over the counter, "Do you not understand that a 1% chance of survival is a little fucking low for my comfort, Rachel?"

"I know, okay!" Rachel huffs, spinning on her heels to pin Quinn with her eyes, "I know."

"Noyou really don't." The blonde walks around the counter and comes to a stop before Rachel, "1% is too low a
statistic, Rachel. Put yourself in my shoes for just one second and wonder how you would feel if you ended my lifewhen
all you hoped was that it would make it better."
And Rachel hesitates, because honestly, she'd never really put herself into Quinn's shoes. She always thought about what
colour her eyes would go when she transformed, if she'd be as strong as Quinn or as agile, if she could somehow become
some sort of vegan wolf and somehow make a lifestyle out of it for other wolves. She'd always wondered why Quinn was
so hesitant, and obviously, the slim to none chance of survival was a pretty big deal, but she'd never really thought about
how it would effect her girlfriend.

How would she feel? How would she feel knowing she'd ended Quinn's life?
God, the thought just makes her want to curl up into a ball and never see the light of day again.

"I just" She trails off, because really, what sort of comeback is there to a thought like that? "I'm not dropping this." She
ends up finishing with, because they're not finished, they won't be for a while.

Quinn takes a step back, "Then know my answer will always be the same." And she's already turned her back on the
singer, ready to depart back into the bedroom to get her head down, when she hears it. "What?"

Rachel clears her throat, still leaning back against the counter, "Don't you want to know why I want the change?"

And my God she does. She wants to know why Rachel wants to go into an early grave butshe's the strong one here. If
this conversation goes on, they'll get into an even bigger argument and she's doesn't really want to deal with Rachel
throwing such a diva hissy fit in the apartment that she has to walk out. She may be hot blooded, but it's fucking cold
outside.

"No. I don't want to know."

And continues into the bedroom, shutting the door with a soft click behind her, signalling the end of another pointless
argument.
Even though she's first into the bedroom, she makes the mistake of going into the ensuite for a quick shower and to use
the facilities. She barely hears the door click over the soft hiss of the shower, but only when she leaves the bathroom,
wrapped in a grey terrycloth bathrobe that Rachel had bought her two weeks after they moved in ("I'm sure you'd
appreciate the warmth of a robe instead of walking around in a damp towel and then leaving it on the floor for me to
inevitably pick up.") she sees a small lump in the bed.
There, almost star fished in the center of the bed, is Rachel Berry, taking up every inch of available space she can with her
5'2" stature. The blonde is half tempted to roll her over until she lands with a thump onto the floor, but she knows she
should be the better person in this argument, but her pride shines through before she's even taken two steps toward the
bed. She half rips two pillows away from Rachel's fake sleeping form and stomps into the living room, shutting the door
with a resounding slam.

Fuck being the bigger person.

Someone is watching her and it's really beginning to freak her out. Of course, she'd noticed it for the past ten minutes, but
in the haze of quite a weird dream that consisted of a giant robotic Barbra Streisand battling an equally giant robotic Patti
Lupone, she assumes she's imagining things.

But she's not. Because ten minutes have passed and she swears she feels eyes boring into the back of her skull or
something. She's half tempted to shout out to Quinn for assistance, but unless this mysterious voyeur can climb up the
face of a five story apartment building, there's no chance in hell he or she got through the bedroom door.
So she comes to one logical conclusion, and that conclusion is solidified when she rolls over and comes face to face with
a wide eyed Quinn Fabray, chin perched on the edge of the mattress, looking cute as cute can be.
"Quinn?" Rachel whispers softly, "How long have you been staring at me?"

Hazel eyes flicker over the glowing digital clock on the bedside table before sliding back to the singer, "An hour and
fifteen? Maybe a little less?"

The brunette huffs softly, "And may I ask why you found it necessary to stare at me like some freaky voyeur?"
"I wanted to talk, but I didn't want to wake you up."

"You choose to talk at" She drifts off and squints her eyes at the almost obnoxious glow of the bedside clock, "2:47 in
the morning?"

"I couldn't sleep." Quinn pouts, eyes going all sorts of puppy dog, "The couch hurts my back and I missed cuddling you."
Rachel sighs, because Jesus Christ, trying to stay angry at Quinn Fabray is like, "It's like kicking a puppy dog." She
pinches the bridge of her nose before pulling the covers back, "Get in."
She almost hears a quiet yay as Quinn scrambles to her feet and all but face plants the mattress in her haste to get onto it,
"God damn, that's good." Rachel just rolls her eyes and shuffles over a little until Quinn is in her respective spot in the bed,
right in the middle, and she knows she's done it on purpose.

"Cuddle?" Quinn asks, voice meek.

And Rachel can feel the warmth radiating off of her girlfriend already and she knows she wants to cuddle because it's
almost December and the winters in New York are harsh as it is without the added warmth. "Fine." She shuffles over,
plants her cheek on Quinn's chest and all but wraps her whole body around the blonde. "But I'm still mad at you." A quiet
whimper of happiness at being cuddled betrays that though.
"I'm sorry." Quinn drops a kiss to the top of her head and nuzzles the soft brown hair, almost getting used to being in close
quarters with her girlfriend again, "I didn't mean to be a complete ass."
"Yes you did," Rachel yawns, snuggling her cheek against the soft cloth of Quinn's bathrobe, "And I'm almost close to
forgiving you."
"Why?"

"Why what?"
"Why are you close to forgiving me already?"

"Like I said previously, Quinn, it's like kicking a puppy dog and I am completely against cruelty toward animals."
Quinn is silent, but just for a little while and Rachel knows she's holding something back, so with a little sigh, she nudges
the blonde's hip with her leg as confirmation.
"I am practically an animal anyway."
"Hm-hm."

"In and out of the bedroom."

"Hm"
"'Cos you knowI'm good in bed and such."

"Whatever you say, sweetie."

She feels Quinn stiffen beneath her, and although she's halfway back to dreaming of the repairs she'll have to make on
Mecha-Barbra, she notices it.

"Wait. Whatever I say? Shouldn't you be saying something along the lines of, 'oh Quinn, you're spectacular in bed. You're
the best I've ever had.'"

"You're all I've ever had. It's hard to conduct a proper test when I've only had one sexual partner."

"But-,"
"Quinn Fabray, my God, I love you, but if you don't let me sleep I will kick you straight back out of this bed and then you
won't be getting laid at all."
"Yes ma'am."

"Good. Now sleep." And she sighs happily, sinking back into Quinn's warmth, "Dreaming 'bout Barbra and Patti."
"Should I be jealous?" Nothing. "Rach?" She's met with only the gentle snore of her girlfriend and she huffs, "God dammit."

"We still need to talk." Quinn comments as she slowly slides her sketchbook into her satchel bag that's already hanging at
her waist, "I know I said I didn't want to talk about it, but I know I'm being an immature bitch by not letting you voice your
opinion."
Rachel smiles softly over her coffee mug, "Can we talk tonight? I have to get to school early and beg for my role back."

"Baby, you don't need to beg. They'll take you back."

"It's sweet that you believe in me that much," She accepts the kiss that Quinn leaves on her lips, soft and chaste, a
goodbye but also a promise of things to come. "I'm still a little mad at you."
"Expected." Quinn sighs, tightening the scarf around her neck, "I am sorry though."

"I know. I just need you to realize that you really hurt me by not listening to what I had to say."
"I know" She drops another kiss to Rachel's lips and smiles softly, "We'll talk when we both get home, kay?"

"Okay." Rachel takes another sip of her coffee as she watches her girlfriend walk to the door, "We also need to talk about
you know who."

"Voldemort?" Quinn quips over her shoulders with a smirk, "I know baby. When I get home." And with a playful wink, she's
gone and Rachel feels a pile of weight just drop straight off her shoulders as if it never existed.

The amount of awkward that radiates across the room is almost obnoxious. She feels it as soon as she walks in the room,
and when she actually locks eyes with the guy, it feels as if she's been bitch slapped across the chops a couple times.

But she soldiers on, because she promised Max she would. She didn't want to make things more awkward than they
already inevitably were. He was willing to forgive and forget, but only over time; she had to prove to him, and most
importantly to herself, that she could hold his trust and treasure it. He was a true friend, a god damn diamond in the rough
and she would hate to lose him.

"Hey," She mumbles softly, almost afraid that if she talks any louder he's going to jump back and think she's about to
lunge. She's had that with Rachel before and if it hurt half as much as it did then, she'd do anything in her power to avoid it.
"Hey," He mumbles back, glancing up from the sketchpad he's drawing on, "How're you?"

"Good." She rocks back on her heels and purses her lips, "You?"
"Good."

Okay, now what does she say? Does she wait for him to say something or does she just blurt out all the apologies under
the sun until he greets her the way he used to? Instead, she smiles shyly and takes the seat behind him. He doesn't turn
around to talk to her, but at least he hasn't alienated her completely.

They're halfway through the lesson when a waded up yellow post it note hits her square in the forehead. She glances up at
the man before her, noticing his right arm coming to rest back on the table. She doesn't hesitate to open the paper, almost
ripping it in her haste to read it.

You're still helping me with my concept, right?

And she just smiles.

With head held high, she storms toward the auditorium doors where she knows the director is hiding. It had spread across
the drama department that Rachel Berry was looking for him, and he'd so far managed to avoid her, but sooner or later he
would have to return to the auditorium for rehearsals.
No one can outsmart a Berry.

"Rachel!"
Instead of storming through the doors in a wave of elegance and grace, she head butts the obstacle instead, head
thumping with a resounding thwack.
Andthere's the stars she loves so much.

"Oh my God, are you okay?" The voice is closer, and only when she looks up, vision blurry from the impact, she notices
the hair, the eyes, "Are you concussed?"

"No, Sophia, I'm fine." She touches her forehead, pressing down on the bruise that's already beginning to form and sighs,
"I was just caught off guard." And although she's entirely capable of standing up, Sophia helps her anyway with an arm
around her waist. "Thank you."
Sophia steps back, eyes scanning the growing bruise, "I really am sorry."

"It's fine. I honestly wasn't paying attention." She was, but the fact that she once again failed at being overly dramatic and
suave is almost like another nail in the 'Sophia Richmond is better than Rachel Berry' coffin, so she just keeps her mouth
shut, "Was there something you wanted?"
"Oh!" Sophia chuckles, and it's so sweet Rachel wants to clock her right across the jaw, so she stuffs her hands in her
coat pockets instead, right fist clenching around her apartment keys, "Sorry. It's just, I haven't seen you around much, I
haven't been able to ask you about why you quit the play."

Okay, and why is it any of her business? Rachel chews down on her inner cheek, calms herself, and when she feels
sufficiently calm enough to talk to the much better make and model (almost like an updated Rachel Berry 2.0) in front of
her, she smiles, albeit a little forced, "I was just stressed about school work and my personal life. But now I've managed to
sort things out, I've come back to ask if I could possibly have my role back."

"You didn't hear?"

Rachel's eyes narrow dangerously, "Hear what?" She asks, just as icily.

"The director already found someone else to fill your role. Apparently she was his second choice, an understudy, and
when you stepped out, she happily stepped in."

"Huh." Rachel nods and asks, maybe a little to heavy on the jealousy, "Okay, and who is this girl?"
"Emily Clarkson. She's a second year."

"Huh."
Sophia smiles, almost a little smarmily, "She's really good." The she pauses and almost condescendingly adds, "Not that
I'm saying you weren't good. It's just" Then she leans forward and lowers her voice almost as if it's a god damn secret
between them both. "I could tell you were struggling with some aspects of the choreography."
"I wasn't struggling." Rachel grumbles, "I simply hadn't adapted to the pace of rehearsals, but I assure you, that is no
longer the case."
But the girl just shrugs, "If you say so, Rachel. But I'm sorry, I doubt you'll be able to get your role back. Emily really is hitting
the nail on the head."
"Then maybe I'll just take yours?" Rachel asks, softly, coldly, with an eyebrow raise that could rival her girlfriend's. And
when Sophia's mouth flaps open, she smirks and shoves open the doors to the auditorium.
Take that, bitch 2.0.

"So" Max shades a line with his pinky finger, "How are things with you and Rachel?"

"You're shading too much." She never takes her eyes off of the pad, "We're okay. We have our ups and downs, but what
else is new?"

He snorts out a laugh, "Fair point." Then his head tilts slightly, "This line seems wrong."
"That's because it is. Draw it about half an inch underneath the line you've already drawn."

"Okay." He smiles to himself when he realizes, yes, Quinn Fabray might be a total nut job when it comes down to jealousy,
but she damn knows well how to draw. "So what're you arguing about?"

"She wants to change."

Max glances up at that, "Where the hell did that come from?"

And when she stays silent, Max looks back down and continues to draw; it gets his mind of the tension between the two of
them. Although they're both talking, there's an underlying tone of 'I don't trust you' that he would do anything to get rid of, but
can't.
"I almost bit her when we werey'know."

"Whatlike," He tongue pops out of the corner of his mouth as he rounds off a line, "Bite bite?"
Quinn raises an eyebrow, "There's a different between biting and bite biting?"

"Well," He puts his pencil down, leans back in his seat, stares down at his pad and sighs, "Biting is just teasing little bites,
like, biting her neck or her arm if she tries to steal your food," He picks up his pencil again and draw another line, slowly,
controlling his hand, "Bite biting is going to town and biting right down until she changes."
"Then it was 'bite biting' as you so eloquently put it."

Max smirks softly to himself, "So your wolf got the better of you?"
"No, but she did come out to play."

His hand stops almost instantly, "You're joking. You transformed in the middle of having sex?"
The blonde shakes her head, remembering the moment when she felt herself be pulled away from her physical form, only
to be slammed behind the mental barrier that she had put up to hold back her wolf. It was weird experience to say the
least; she could hear every word her wolf said, every word that Rachel uttered, every touch, every smell. It was almost
thrilling.

"No, my wolf overtook my body. She had a voice."

This does make Max stop, and he leans back in his seat, crossing on leg over the other, "No shit?" He whistles softly at
her nod, "I've heard of it happening but I never expected that it could happen to one of us. What was it like?"

"Terrifying butsuch an adrenaline rush."

"Sothat's when you almost bit her?"

"No, it was weirdmy wolf was calmer in my body than when it was stuck behind my barrier. She was coolcollected"

"Everything you're not," Max snorts, "What happened with your wolf then?"

"Rachel said she wanted me back and my wolf allowed me back into my body."
"Just like that?"

The blonde nods, "Just like that."

"I think I prefer the in control wolf to when it's ripping you apart trying to get out."

"You and me both." Quinn presses two fingers to her forehead and rubs in small circles, trying to ease the tension growing
behind her skull, "I think it was just the heat of the moment. One minute we were having sex and then for a second I wanted
to bite her."
"But you didn't?"

"Do you think I'd be here if I did?" Quinn asks, almost unbelievably, "I'd be planning a damn funeral."
Max purses his lips, "Fair point."

"She wants to change but I don't want her to change. So now we have to talk about that and my wolf. I have a feeling I'll be
on the couch again by the end of the night."
Max snorts out a laugh, "Quinn, look, you just need to relax. You knew how difficult this would be; having a relationship with
a human, but you have to realize it comes with the territory. Deep down inside, you knew, some day, Rachel would ask
about becoming a werewolf, if you didn't, that's a little arrogant on your part. Just let her voice her own concerns, her own
needs and listen to them because you're her mate. And that's what mates do; they're there for each other."
"I knew that. I'm not retarded."

"Then how come you ended up on the couch last night?"

Quinn just stares, "How the hell did you know that?"

"You were hunching slightly when you walked in today. You always hunch after you've slept on the couch. You may want to
sort that out otherwise you'll have a big ol' lump on your back by the time you're forty with the way you're dealing with
issues in your relationship."
"Thank you, Yoda."

"No sweat." The fact he glosses over the sarcasm, settles her slightly, because even though everything he just said could
have pissed her off, the fact he still said them, means the world to her, because maybe, just maybe, things will be okay.
They will never be the same; something changed that day, in that back office, with him pinned against the door and
nothing she can do can change that.

Hopefully it's not too bad a change.

She hopes.

"Mr. Edwards, if I could just have a minute of your time?" Rachel asks politely, beaming smile as she walks toward him.
He's stood on the stage, glossing over a thick wad of paper in his hands, glasses perched on the edge of his nose.

"Miss. Berry, what can I do for you?"

"I'm so glad you asked." She takes the steps up to the stage slowly, full of decorum, because she will not have a repeat
performance of slamming her head into a very hard object. "I'm actually here to ask for my role back in the play." He opens
his mouth, but Rachel Berry, as ever, has come prepared, "I'm aware that you cast Emily Clarkson after I mistakingly left
the show and I'm also aware that she's doing a great job, but I could be better."
Kevin Edwards raises his eyebrows at that, "Oh? And how do you see that?"

"Quite easily in fact. I must admit, the rehearsal process was incredibly draining on me. I came from a small town, from a
school where the arts were generally frowned upon. Rehearsals were always caught last second and honestly, only one or
two rehearsals for one performance pretty much set the whole dynamic. It was a shock to the system, when I realized that
the rehearsals for this play were hours at a time, sometimes lasting until late at night and it caused some distress in my
personal life. But I'm here to tell you that all issues have been solved and I'm 100% dedicated to the role once more."
Kevin smiles softly, but there's no sparkle in his eye, and Rachel gulps softly, feeling the tremendous pounding in her
chest; this almost felt as bad as her first audition. "I'm sorry Rachel, but Emily really does fit the criteria better. I was
swayed by your enthusiasm to begin with and that's why I cast you; I thought you could bring something special to the role
butI really can't play this game with you. I can't keep casting and re-casting when things get a little too hard for you."
"I know, I'm aware, and I'm incredibly sorry for the problems I've caused, but please, just give me one more chance. I
already have the complete script memorized, I'll work double time on the choreography just to catch up and" She sighs,
and adds desperately, "Please."

He takes her in, this tiny girl that he had met only a few months ago. He had been there, one of the judges at her first
audition to be accepted into Julliard, and he'd seen something special sparkle in her eyes. He'd seen dozens of potential
auditionees but there was something that settled with this girl; almost like the whirlwind of auditions finally came to a
standstill and Rachel Berry took the stage.
He saw something special then, but now?

"Honestly, I'm disappointed that you've resigned to begging, Rachel." He smiles unhappily, "There will be another play
next year. Be sure to audition then."

"But-,"
Kevin sighs, adjusting the papers in his hands, "I'm sorry Rachel, but Emily took your spot. Maybe next year, okay?"
And he's just about to walk down the stage steps, and the pounding in her chest gets twice as worse because she knows
it was only a threat, but really, what if he said yes? This play, a lead role in her firstyear would look so tremendous on her
resume. A director on Broadway would take one look at it and see main roles for every play she had taken part in and just
have to be impressed.

So she turns on the balls of her feet and says as strongly and as proudly as she can, "Then I wish to take Sophia
Richmond's place."

"So do you maybe wanna" Quinn stuffs her hands into her winter coat as Max pushes open the door to the main
campus, "Maybe grab something to eat?" They don't have anymore classes; thank God for short Monday's.

"I uh" He pulls on a brown leather glove and shrugs his shoulders, "I promised my roomie I'd do something with him."
"Ah." And the fact Max doesn't tell her what he's doing, leads her to believe he's not doing anything at all. He may go to the
comic book store, he may go back to his dorm, or he may go to the nearby bar that they frequent and grab a beer and a
huge nacho plate for himself; a plate they always shared when they drank together. "Fair enough."

"Yeah," He blows out a breath, and Quinn watches as the steam rises and drifts into the chilly wind, "Well, I'll see you
tomorrow afternoon?"

"Sure." She nods, trying to sound enthusiastic but really not pulling it off. What happened to the love of performing she
once had back in Lima? She should have been able to plaster on a fake smile and pretend everything is okay, but now, it
seems even the thought of pretending exhausts her.
"Cool. Well, see you later." And he steps out under the covering they're stood beneath and heads out into the snow, and
she's just about to go in the opposite direction to catch the subway when Max just stops, almost mid step. "I could hate
you, you know."

"I know,"
"You're lucky I'm talking to you at all."

"I know,"
The raven haired boy nods and glances down at his high tops, watching the black disappear amongst the snowy white, "I
could call the Alpha from my territory and have you attacked."
Her back tenses almost immediately; this had always been a sore spot between the two of them, but mostly for Max. He
lives in a different territory and abides by the rules of the Alpha that rules it, but often finds himself going to another Alpha
for help and advice; the one person he can truly trust.

"I wouldn't blame you if you did."

Because she deserves it.

"You'd be killed for attacking another pack."

Because she overstepped boundaries.

"I know."
Max glances over his shoulder at her and smirks softly, "Just a shame I'm not a sadistic bastard then, huh?"

And she huffs out a laugh, feeling the tension melt away, "You can be at times, Max."
He smiles, "Catch you tomorrow, Quinn."

And he's gone, walking into the light snowfall that blankets New York City, and only when he's disappeared completely into
the haze of white, does she walk away.

The first thing she does when she gets in is dive headfirst into the fridge, and behold, Rachel's done it again. Rachel
always leaves thirty minutes after Quinn on Mondays, and in the time she has to spare, she always makes a little snack for
her girlfriend.

Little, being an understatement.

Quinn pulls out a plate, wrapped in Clingfilm, with three BLT sandwiches inside. She can smell the bacon. The real, honest
to God bacon, and her mouth waters. Rachel had tried to make her eat Smart Bacon as a substitute, but while it still kind
of tasted like bacon, she couldn't get the underlying taste of cardboard out of her mouth for days.
With a huff, Rachel had given up, and Quinn rewarded herself by going to the deli two blocks down and buying the biggest
BLT they had - with extra bacon.

It only takes her ten minutes to inhale all three sandwiches, and by the end of it, she's downed two bottles of Vitamin Water
and belched so hard it echoed throughout the whole apartment. "Gaaaaaah" Quinn leans back against the couch,
relaxing into the leather. She had only belched once in Rachel's presence, and the look alone had made Quinn realize to
never do it again.

But times like these, by herself, with only the TV and silence, she can do whatever the hell she likes.
She only makes it halfway through a 2 Broke Girls episode when exhaustion begins to settle in. After only having a few
hours sleep the night before, it wouldn't hurt to catch up on those lost hours before Rachel got home.
After all, she'd probably end up on the couch again if tonight was any indication.

Kisses are being pressed gently to the back of her neck, and there's a delicious weight draped over her back. A body,
that was still slightly cold from the cold wind outside, woke her heated body slowly.

"Hm," She mumbles, licking her dry lips, "Hey."

"Hey baby," There's a kiss to her ear.

"When did you get home?"

"A few minutes ago." A kiss to her temple. "How long have you been asleep?"

Quinn turns her head to glance at the bedside clock, it was almost four in the afternoon. "Three hours, I think."
Rachel chuckles and takes to kissing the side of her face, brushing full lips against flush skin, "I take it you found the
sandwiches?"
"Yes." Quinn smiles, "Thank you for that."

"I will not slaughter animals daily for you, Quinn. It's a weekly treat."
And the blonde chuckles, turning over until Rachel is flush against her chest, "I know, but thank you anyway."

The singer blushes, leaning down to press a slow but chaste kiss against Quinn's lips. It's a proper greeting between two
lovers that have been separated, and the blonde melts willingly into the fleeting touches against her lips, the way Rachel's
hand sifts through her hair and scratches at her scalp.
"Dinner?"

"God yes."
"Pig." Rachel chuckles, climbing off the bed, "I bought Chinese and if you don't like what I got you, then tough." Playfully,
she sticks her tongue out, but even before she can get her tongue back into her mouth, she's on the bed, pinned on her
back.

"Don't stick that tongue out unless you plan to use it."
And Rachel smirks and bites gently at her bottom lip, "Maybe I was?"

"Oh really?" Quinn leans down, ready to take that hot mouth against hers, but she's met by Rachel's cheek instead, "The
hell?"

"Dinner, Quinn."
"You're kidding me, right?"

"I never kid, Quinn Fabray." And she shoves the blonde off of her with a sharp push to her shoulders, "We must keep our
strength up and we can do that by eating the hot meal waiting for us on the kitchen counter." And she's already at the door
when she tosses over her shoulder, "Then maybe you can ravish me against said counter."
"God damn on a donut."

She actually loves what Rachel got her. An almost scalding hot chicken and noodle soup, fried beef strips in spicy KO
sauce and a bag of fries just because she can. Rachel watches her with an amused look as she tries to down the soup,
only to find it's too hot for her tongue.
"Baby, it'll still be there in a few minutes. Let it cool."
"But I want it noooow," She whines, almost child like, and only just holds back from stomping her foot. After all, she isn't
Rachel Berry.

"Then eat some fries. The soup will still be there."

Quinn, with a pout, rips open the bag of fries and plucks one out. It's almost halfway to her lips when she thinks of
something so unbelievably brilliant it should have a trademark sign. She dunks half of the crispy golden fry into the soup
and chows down.

"Oh good God, that is like the sauce of the saints."

Rachel, halfway through chewing on a mouthful of veggie chow mein, stops and chuckles around her hand, and only when
she's swallowed does she say, "I've never seen someone have a divine intervention with food before."
"It's like getting to the pearly gates and realizing you have a season pass back to Earth." She dunks another fry and
chews, "I need to do this more often," She mumbles, grabbing a handful of fries in preparation to dunk.
"You're unbelievable. You're acting like it's better than sex."

The way Quinn's hand slowly dunks her fry is answer to that, "Seriously? Compared to a French fry dunked in chicken
noodle soup, I'm nothing?"

Quinn shrugs, taking a generous bite, "You know how much food means to me."
"You're breaking my heart, Quinn Fabray, I hope you realize this."

"I'm sorry, I justI love food."

Rachel reaches across the table and pats Quinn's free hand (one, thankfully not covered in soup), "I'll always love you,
even with your addiction."
Quinn sighs dramatically, "Thank you for understanding my plight."

"Anytime." The singer winks and Quinn barks out a laugh.

"Sohow did it go with the Director? Did you get your part back?"

Rachel takes to flinging a noodle across the plate, oddly fascinated by the way it bounces off of chunks of carrot and
onion, "Ididn't get my role back, but I got a role."

"Don't tell me they stuck you in the back." The blonde asks, mouth clenched around mutilated and mashed up potato.
"Babe, you're better than that. Do you want me to have a word with him?"

Rachel chuckles softly, sucking up a lone noodle from her fork. She takes the time to chew and swallow, and even adds a
little time by taking a sip of her water, "I most certainly am not stuck in the back, in fact, it's a main role."

"Seriously?" Quinn beams, white teeth gleaming under the stark brightness of the overhead light, "But wait, didn't they
already have a full cast?"

"I uhm," Rachel nods, "Yes, yes they did."

"Then how did you,-" She trails off, watching as Rachel fiddles with the label on her water bottle, oddly uncomfortable,
which is a disconcerting image in itself; when it comes to Rachel and theatre, the singer is all but bouncing off the walls in
excitement to talk about it. "Rachel, what did you do?"

"I didn't do anything."

"Then why have you suddenly decided to play with your food? You always tell me off for doing it."

"I" Rachel settles her fork on her plate and huffs, "I took someone else's role."

"You just took it? But" Quinn leans back in her seat, the wheels in her head obviously turning. And Rachel watches
silently, but with a little pout when Quinn continues to eat. Obviously she's not so pissed she has no appetite anymore.
"Whose role was it?"
"Do you remember that girl I was telling you about, the one that worked opposite me?"

"Sophie something or other."

"Sophia."

"Yeah." A pause, "Damn Rachel."

"What?"
"How the hell did you get her to give up the role?"

And Rachel gnaws on her bottom lip, "She might not know the role has been taken yet. The director assured me he would
tell her immediately, but I wouldn't know when that would be."

"I thought she was your friend?"

"I've always hated her." She replies softly, drawing the tip of her index finger against the cheap wood of the dining table,
"She's a better dancer than me, she can handle stress better than me. I haven't heard her sing yet but" She trails off,
dropping her hand onto her lap, "She's like a better model than me. I hated her for it."

"So you stole her role in the play?"

"I did not steal it, Quinn."

Quinn chuckles, "You uhkinda did."

"Okay, so maybe I did."

"Babe" The blonde huffs out a laugh, "As funny as this is, and you know I'm your number one fan, you're always going to
come across someone who is kind of better than you. The way you prove yourself is through your determination, not
through your jealousy."
And the other girl just sighs, because seriously, she couldn't have said that this morning before Sophia Richmond got all
up in her face? Part of does want to take the decision back, but a bigger part of her wants that role and wants to thrive and
wants to shove it into Sophia's smug overly perfect face.

"Quinn, this is a dog eat dog world. Sooner or later, someone is going to stab me in the back to get a role that I've set my
eyes on, and it's only a matter of time until I have to do it back. Sophia was my rival from day one, I could tell just from the
conversation we had. We had that natural animosity. That'll never change."
"If you say so" And Quinn picks up the container of soup and takes on big gulp, and she's chewing on a rather large
piece of chicken when she says, "If she does anything remotely physical though, you tell me and I'll give her a piece of my
mind."

"Quinn."
"I said my mind, not my fist, baby."

Rachel rolls her eyes, "I've only known Sophia for a few months, but I know full well that she will not resort to violence to get
to me."

"Just sayin'," And Quinn finishes her soup, licking her lips as she settles the container down, "Now onto the beef!"
"I wonder if they have a Foodacholic Anonymous or something."

"If they did, I'd so go, just to stand up and say 'Hi, I'm Quinn, and I love food.' while stuffing a baguette in my mouth."
Rachel barks out a laugh, "How inappropriate."

"But how funny, right?"

They fall into a comfortable silence, and together, they dine on noodles and beef on their dingy and cheap IKEA dining
room table, and they've never been happier. But Rachel has the niggling questions in the back of her mind, and she knows
she needs to ask them while Quinn is in a good mood, but breaking this comfortable silence just doesn't feel right.

"You wanted to talk right?"

Oh, okay, so Quinn can do it for her.

"A perfect segue, Quinn Fabray. Are you sure you can't read my mind?"
The blonde chuckles, "No, and thank God for small miracles."
"Quinn!" A lump of broccoli hit's the blonde on the jaw, "My mind is not as psychotic as you may think."

"If you say so," The blonde throws the chunk of broccoli into her mouth with a grin, "Go on. With your questions."
"One moment!" And she's up and out of her seat, bustling over to the front door where her bag lay beside Quinn's. She
bends over to reach inside and she knows her girlfriend is checking out her backside, and she's worked rather hard for
her rather voluptuous backside, so she takes her sweet time flicking through her folder to the appropriate page before
standing straight once more. "There's some beef hanging out of your mouth."
Quinn sucks it in before she can finish the sentence.

Rachel chuckles as she takes her seat back at the table, pushing her plate of chow mein to the side. She lays the folder
down and clears her throat.

"What the hell is this? An interrogation?" The blonde smirks and holds out her wrists, "I'm guilty, officer. Now cuff me."
"Stop being so rude," Rachel scolds softly, before lowering her eyes back to the folder slowly, "Maybe later."

And Quinn just beams.

"I wrote down my opinion on the subject. I felt at the time I could expertly express what I've been feeling for the past few
months instead of floundering."
Quinn flicks an eyebrow up, "O-kay?"

"My darling, Quinn Fabray-,"

"Oh give me strength."
"Quinn!" The blonde mimics a zipping motion over her lips and continues to eat her beef in silence.
Rachel clears her throat, making sure to take four quick sips of her water to prepare her throat for the almost essay she
had written between classes. It had taken over two hours to write, spell check and then re-write because she didn't like the
color of pen it was written in.

It had to be perfect.
"My darling, Quinn Fabray. I'm writing this whilst in between classes because I fear as I speak to you tonight I will not be
able to express what I truly feel, hence this small written essay. First of all, I would like to say that I am unbelievably happy
with you, although our relationship has been fraught with difficulties, we've always come out better on the other side."

"You make me happier than I ever thought I could be. During High School, the only thing I ever really focused on was my
singing, my inevitable conquest on Broadway and my own brand of Rachel Berry doll that will be released when I inevitably
win my first Tony."
She hears a slight chuckle, but she ignores it.

"But there are many things in our relationship that more often than not, I am scared to speak to you about. It is not because
I am afraid of how you will react, but mostly because I'm scared that in some way, I'll put so much pressure on you that our
relationship with come to a close. I must insist, this is the last thing I would ever wish upon us."
She flips a page and takes another quick sip of her water, but never lets her eyes wander up to look at Quinn.

"One topic in particular, I've only ever been met with animosity whenever I mention it. Of course, I'm talking about my urge
to be changed into one of your kind. I'm aware of the statistic, and yes, I did sit down and really think about how 1% is a
rather meagre percentage of success, but it still doesn't change the fact that it's something I want to do. I know you may
despise me for this, or perhaps be even disappointed in me, but please don't be. Have you never wanted something so
much you would give up anything to have it? This is just one of those things."
"I know that you're scared, and I am too. I truly am. I'm scared that I may lose my life, that I may lose you, that I may lose
everyone around me that I love. And although I wish to be bitten and taken through the change, I know, deep down inside,
it's something I cannot put you through, although my reasoning for wanting the change is something of importance."

Another flip of the page.

"I only wish to change, not only to be closer to you and your origins, but because of our children." She hears a choked
sound, "I know we've never really spoken about them, but when you marked me, it honestly cemented the fact that one day
we would marry and have children. The reason I wish to change is because while our children may be birthed by you and
given the gene of a werewolf, if one or however many children we wish to have, were birthed by me, they wouldn't have the
gene."
"I don't wish to have one children without the gene and the other with. As they got older, the one without the gene would
inevitably become jealous that he or she doesn't have this gift. I refuse to have our children hate each other, or us for that
matter. But if you so wish, and you think that you could deal with having human and werewolf children, then you may not
have to change me. It would be discomforting to me, but eventually, I would learn to live with it. As one in the theatre always
says, the show must go on."

"Thank you for listening and if you have any questions, please do not hesitate to ask. Thank you and I love you. Rachel
Barbra Berry." Then she taps her finger down on the paper, "Then there's a little starobviously."
And the silence is deafening. Quinn has pushed her plate to the side and her hands lay dejected in her lap. She's staring
into space just above Rachel's right shoulder, eyes wide with a look that almost looks like fear. Rachel taps incessantly on
the paper with her nails, trying somehow to kill time as Quinn focuses and just processes everything. She has to admit to
herself, that everything she had written was a little on the heavy side with very hefty dose of reality thrown in.

They'd never really spoken about marriage or having children, although they knew somewhere down the line it would be in
their future. Rachel was marked, and by default, that was almost like a marriage itself. The singer took it incredibly
seriously, and now, thinking back on it, even though Quinn is the werewolf, she doesn't think that her girlfriend really
thought through what marking her could truly entail.

They were bonded for life, whether she was a wolf or not. It was a sign to other werewolves around them that she
belonged to Quinn and that Quinn belonged to her. It was sign of devotion and love and longing. It was their special thing,
and now that Rachel thinks about it, she's upsettingly certain that Quinn really didn't understand the ramifications of biting
her.

"Quinn? Will you say something?"

But Quinn is still staring dumbly into space, her hazel eyes wet with unshed tears. How could she not have known that the
only reason Rachel wanted to change was to have a better quality of life for their children? How could she not have known
that Rachel, the girl she loved since she was fifteen, wasn't being selfish. Rachel was never selfish; how could she have
ever doubted that?
"I" She trails off, clearing her throat at how hoarse her voice sounds, "You want children?"

"One day" Rachel whispers, shutting the folder with a soft thump, "In the future, I want to have a family with you. I know
we've only been together for just over a year, but Quinn, this mark on my skin symbolizes how much I want out of this
relationship. I wear your mark, you wear my ring. It's equal. It's right."
"You're notproposing to me? Right?"

"Oh Moses no. I'm nineteen! I most definitely am not ready for that type of commitment. Of course, your mark is almost like
a promise of what is to come. But no, not right now, Quinn."

"Oh thank heaven."

Rachel smiles shyly, "Now do you understand why I wanted the change so badly? I was willing to overlook the 1% statistic
because I want our children to grow up equally, Quinn."
"I know, butRachel, if the statistic was 70% or something a little higher, maybe I would agree to it. But it's 1, Rach. 1."

"I know." The singer whispers, dejectedly as she looks back down to her folder, gripping the edges for dear life. She's just
bared her soul and she's still being rejected, how is that fair in any respect? She knows that 1% is too small a statistic;
she knows that she would most probably die. But it was worth a shot, right? Just to give their children a better chance at
life? "But-,"

"But nothing, Rachel." The blonde leans back in her seat, elbow propped on the back rest as her fingertips brush wildly
through her hair, "I know you're being selfless here and honestly, it's sweet. Truly. But I'm not willing to kill you just so you
can give our 'maybe' children a better chance at life. If worse comes to worse, I'll give birth to them. Then they can have
equal opportunities."

"Maybe children? You don't want children?"

"Honestly? I hadn't given it any thought. Maybe, once, right at the beginning of our relationship when everything was so
new all I wanted to do was push you onto a plane to Vegas and marry you in the first couple weeks of us being together.
But now we're older and we have to think this through responsibly. We're both nineteen, we're both still living our lives.
Maybe, one day, when we're old enough and stable enough, we'll think about children, okay?"
Rachel's bottom lip quivers and she feels the heat radiate up toward her eyes before she can even think to stop it, "Is
wanting children with me so horrible a thought?"
"Nobaby, if anything, it's the most amazing thought anyone could ever have." Quinn reaches out, grasping Rachel's
quaking hand in hers, "I'd love to have children with you, someday and when that day comes, we'll talk again about the
change."
"Why bother? You're just going to say no again."

"Definitely, but by then, you won't be running off the high of being in a relationship with a werewolf. You'll have matured and
you'll have a life that you wouldn't give up for anything, not even for a gene in my body."

"So this is topic is closed for good now?"

Quinn sighs, "I want it to be. I can't lose you."
"I want to accept it, but I'm scared I'll resent you for just closing the book on this."
"I'm closing it before it has a chance to be fully read, Rach. With a 99% possibility that you may die, I'm not willing to take
the risk. I need you with me. That mark just proves that."
"Did you even think about how I'd feel when you marked me?"

"Rach"

"Justdid you? Did you sit there and wonder what it would be like to be marked by someone and still have no rights?"

"You have plenty of rights, Rachel. And I swear, you can ask anything else of me, just not this." And Quinn just flies out of
her seat, hands on her hips as she takes a few steadying breaths, "Would it help to talk to my wolf and realize how much it
would hurt me?"
"Quinn"

"Would it?" She glances over her shoulder, eyes watering with unshed tears, "I need you to understand how much it kills
me whenever you ask me that. So will it help?"

And it would, because finally getting to the route of the issue really would help; to finally understand from Quinn's wolf point
of view, the Alpha that would do anything to bite her and change her, but refuses to do so because it can't take the risk.
How much of an inner struggle must the Alpha go through every day just to fight off its own basic instincts?
"Okay."

Quinn nods, "Justgive me a second, okay? I've only done it once before."
Rachel nods through a sniffle, "Okay."

It takes an hour and a half until Quinn isn't really Quinn anymore. The blonde haired beauty that sits on the second hand
leather couch that they had bought together at an auction, isn't really that girl anymore. On the outside, she's the same; the
same nose, the same mouth, the same body, but the eyes give away a deeper meaning.
Quinn is no longer Quinn, but the Alpha that resides in her every hour of every day. When golden eyes glance at her over
her shoulder, she hesitantly rises from her seat and walks toward the couch.
"I won't bite." Quinn quips, looking up at her mate, "Much."

It's almost enough to make Rachel want to giggle, but she's too scared to open her mouth. So she just sits, primly on the
edge of the couch, knees pressed together, hands clutched in her lap.

"You're killing me."

Rachel's head snaps toward the blonde beside her.

"That's what it feels like whenever you ask. You honestly believe that such a low statistic is okay for a go ahead? You're
wrong, so unbelievably wrong it's untrue." Golden eyes bore into her, and she almost feels stripped down to the bone, "If I
told you, as you walk down the street toward school, there was a 99% chance of you being stabbed and killed, how would
you feel?"

"The statisticcould never be that high."

"Humour me." Quinn dead pans, "If told you that, how would you feel?"

"Afraid." The singer pauses, glancing down toward her hands, "Terrified."
"Exactly," It's a quiet drawl, but it's enough to send a shiver up her spine, "Myself and Quinn are constantly terrified by your
requests. One, because you'll become so sick of being denied that you'll just leave. And two, if we do give in, we have to
sit there and watch you die in our arms."

"You're being selfless, I understand this, and it's admirable. As an Alpha, I admire that about your character. But this is
something you cannot ask of us, Rachel. It's in my nature to want to turn you, but I'm fighting off all the instincts I was born
with because I know that I need you in my life. Call me selfish, call Quinn selfish, but wouldn't you feel the same?"

Oh God, they're right but, she needs it so badly. She needs to have that connection, that bond, she needs to have it or
she'll constantly feel apart from everything. As their children grow and finally turn into their true wolf forms, instead of being
elated at their next step in life, she'd feel distant, unmoved. That isn't how a mother should feel.

"If I drop it now, may I bring it up again in the future?"

The Alpha is quiet for some time, and her eyes drop to the large section of couch that separates them. Rachel knows
she's conversing with her Quinn in the back of her mind, and she knows what the answer is going to be but-,

"Fine. In the future, but you need to accept our answer then."

It's better than nothing.

"Okay."

Quinn smiles, softly and shuffles, almost child like, across the couch to close the distance between them. "And for the
record?" Rachel, breathless, staring into those beautiful gold eyes, simply murmurs a 'hm?' at the question.

"It would be a honor to have children with you some day."

And everything just explodes, because the Alpha's lips are upon hers and nothing has ever felt so right.
*Chapter 15*: Order within Chaos
I must apologize for the wait. At first I was hoping to update before I went away for the holidays, but that never happened
because I was blocked. Then while I was away, I got tonsillitis. I've only just gotten over that, and then I caught a cold. The
world really had it in for me, but I forced my way through because I really wanted to get this chapter out for you guys. Do
enjoy it.

Her whole body is buzzing. Her skin feels as if it will set alight. The heat that emanates from between her legs almost
threatens to engulf her whole body. She's so overcome, so overpowered; not just by the feelings that her body is being
attacked with, but with the blonde beauty above her. She knows she should be frightened, or maybe even terrified, about
having this Quinn on top of her, pinning her down with such a delicious weight, but she can't really bring herself to muster
up the strength to be scared. The terror doesn't set in because the lips that brush against her own almost massage, gently,
with care. The hands that play her body like a fine-tuned instrument, fingertips brushing against inflamed tan skin, just
numb her to the thought that Quinn may snap and become feral once more.

She's effectively pinned to the couch with the weight of the blonde above her. A toned thigh rests between her legs,
pushing ever so slightly into her core whenever she finds the strength to pull Quinn down by the hips. The arousal controls
her from the inside out; it controls her hands, where they grab and pull, they control her voice as she moans out in
pleasure, control the flood of moisture from between her legs. The pheromones urge her to keep going. The woman
above her slowly destroys her with well placed kisses and touches.
Quinn growls softly against her cheek as she turns her head away, trying desperately to regain her breath, but it doesn't
stop the blonde. Her nose nuzzles, her lips brush, her tongue swirls random patterns that force goosebumps to raise on
her arms. And when she feels the blonde begin to suck on her throat, no doubt leaving another bruised sign of territory,
she can't help but feel a tide of guilt wash over her body.

The Quinn above her isn't her Quinn. On the outside, anyone who encountered the blonde would never know the
difference, in fact, only a few choice few would be able to. She knows that either way, this is a version of Quinn that she fell
in love with; but it's not the human one that she's suppose to be in love with. She's being irrational, she realizes as those
familiar hands trail up her shirt; the touch feels so familiar, so safe, a feeling of coming home. But those fingers trail
differently, dig harder and swirl in a completely different way against her skin. It just doesn't feel right.

Quinn has always had trust issues with her wolf; she has ever since she attacked Michael Hunter whilst coming into power
as an Alpha. Would she see this as a betrayal of trust? Would she see it as the wolf using her human body to take the one
thing it had always wanted? Would she even be able to come back into her body without the wolf's permission like
previously done?

All the questions seemed to meld together and jumble up incoherently in her already racing mind. She tries to voice her
worries, tries to tell Quinn's wolf how she's feeling, but that thigh presses so deliciously against her, and those damn
pheromones just rip her apart from the inside; it's all she can smell and all she can taste, tangy and sour like a lemon. As
Quinn continues to play her, she becomes that much more frustrated. Her nails begin a slow and painful dig into Quinn's
hips, trying to stall her, to stop her. It's a silent plea; one she fears that the blonde will ignore.

She never expected this; to be jumped after a particularly emotional evening. She never expected to soak herself with
anticipation of being fucked by the one thing, the one person, that used to terrify her down to the core; that would make
her cower and hide away in high school.

But the Alpha handles her so delicately; the primal side that always seems to control the wolf seems oddly absent. The
touches to her clothed chest are almost fleeting, controlled, almost like the Alpha is trying to prove that it's urges can be
controlled; that it had worked on itself just to make her feel safer. The grind of thigh isn't overwhelming or overbearing, and
although Quinn is above her, she feels oddly in control of the situation. The brush of lips and tongue is so beautifully soft
she feels tears gather in the corners of her eyes.
Quinn's lips pull away from a kiss covered throat, saliva glistening under the bright lamplight. The blonde brushes those
lips up the line of Rachel's jaw, revelling in the taste of her mate, the softness of her skin, and bites down softly when she
meets her ear.

"Are you okay?" The Alpha whispers gently, the natural husky tone to Quinn's wolf making the hair on the back of Rachel's
neck raise.

"I'm okay." She answers almost instantly, robotic, emotionless. Lying.

"You're a terrible liar." Quinn chuckles against the shell of her ear, "It's very unbecoming of your character. Do tell me the
truth, hm?"
And the difference between Alpha and Human emerge. Quinn wouldn't be caught dead talking like her parents; she had
always put her foot down and said that although she loved her parents, she would never become them; good little
WASP's, overbearingly caring, unable to keep their noses out of anything. The Alpha, however, talks in clipped tones, and
suddenly, Rachel feels as if she's been thrown head first into Great Expectations and straight into an audience with Miss
Havisham.
Should she curtsey?
Usually she would be rather annoyed at the condescending tone, but with the way the blonde nuzzles at her ear, dots
kisses to her cheek and smiles against the skin whenever she clutches at the back of the Alpha's shirt, just puts her at
ease. She knows that Quinn doesn't mean to sound condescending; after all, she's known both the human and wolf for a
long time. She knows them like the back of her hand.
"I-," She bites at her bottom lip when the Alpha begins to nip at her earlobe, gentle little teasing bites, that seems to send
another flood of guilt as wetness through her body. "C-Could you please stop?" She begs quietly, hoping that her voice
won't betray her and tell Quinn exactly how she feels and how much she wants what Quinn inevitably has planned.

Quinn is at the end of the couch, sat prim and proper before she even has the chance to blink. The blonde is staring at her
with blown golden eyes, lips swollen from manic kissing, chest heaving ever so slightly beneath her shirt. She knows the
effect she's had the singer, and no matter how much her mate tries to deny how she feels, the smell is enough to tell her
how wet and aroused the brunette is. She knows it's cruel, but it's fun to keep her pheromones flowing, just to see how
Rachel controls herself around whilst trying to keep her arousal in check.
Thanks to the pheromones, Rachel takes a few moments just to calm the manic beating of her heart; to calm herself
enough so she won't jump the beautiful blonde sitting calmly at the end of the couch with a wicked gleam in her eye. Quinn,
patient, sits and watches as Rachel calms, watches as the figurative wheels turn in the singers head, trying to figure out
how to voice her concerns without sounding like a Grade A moron.
Eventually, Rachel finds her voice, and Quinn listens intently, "I feel like I'm cheating on Quinn," She all but blurts, and when
the blonde's eyes widen, almost comically, she feels the word vomit rush up her throat before she can even stop it. "I know
it sounds unbelievably stupid to you, but I can't help but feel that way. I can't shake the feeling that I'm going behind Quinn's
back by kissing you. She's always had trust issues with you since you came into your...," How is she going to say this
without mentioning Michael? "Power as an Alpha. It's been a constant struggle for her to keep you controlled, a struggle
she still has to deal with. I almost feel as if she'll think of it as a deception and I don't want my making out with you to have
a bad effect on my relationship." She lifts her chin and clears her throat softly, "I hope you understand."

The mirth in Quinn's eyes has almost intensified, "You do realize that I am Quinn? I'm only the other half of her personality
that she subdues to the fact that she wants to appear more 'human'." She even does the hand quotations with a little
chuckle, "Please. She's anything but human."

"Quinn." Rachel sighs, "I don't even like calling you that. You're not Quinn."

Golden eyes roll, "You hurt me so, Rachel." Then with a sigh, Quinn slumps against the back of the couch, lips pursed,
"Call me Q, instead. Sooner or later, I will be a part of your life, Rachel. I'll always be here, even if Quinn doesn't wish me to
be. You are Quinn's and also mine."
"But why- I don't-," She shakes her head softly to herself, annoyed at the fact she can't even voice her own concerns
anymore.
Q smiles, raising to her feet, albeit a little shakily, "I'm still not used to these two legs." She mutters through a tiny chuckle,
"Do you wish to have Quinn back?"
"I-," Rachel looks down to her lap, fingertips brushing against the rough texture of her skin tight jeans, "Will you allow her to
come back whenever she wants? I know how overpowering you can get sometimes and I don't- I won't allow you to control
her choices."

Rachel notes how the right eyebrow raises instead of Quinn's trademark left, "If that is what you wish."
The singer nods, hand raising up to brush her bangs away from her eyes, "It is."

"Then I will allow it."

She fingers the mark at her clavicle, nail tracing each individual bump that Quinn's teeth had left almost a year ago. The
mark has faded, easy to cover up with makeup, but at times she just loved to have it on show. It made her feel powerful
and wanted. She belonged to someone, but she still had her own free will. She knows that part of her should feel
smothered by the promise of the mark, but all she feels is excitement. She belongs to Quinn, they will be together and
hopefully, one day, if all goes well, they will have their own family their own pack.
Q stands at the bathroom door, arms crossed over her chest, leaning against the door frame, watching as Rachel carefully
fingers the mark that both she and Quinn had left there. She felt each individual bite as Quinn's own teeth sunk into that
beautiful tan skin. She drove Quinn to do it, she drove the usually calm and collected human to finally take what belonged
to her.
"It still hurts," Rachel calls over her shoulder, but not tearing her eyes away from the mirror, "From time to time, it feels like
a fresh bite. Sometimes it comes back and reminds me how it felt when I was first bitten."
Q smiles softly, "Like an echo."
Rachel eyes drop away from the mirror and down to the mark itself, taking in the slight white crevices that Quinn's teeth
had made, "Exactly."
"Does it disturb you?"

A smile and a shake of her head, Rachel turns to face the woman before her; half a stranger. "If anything, I'm proud of the
mark."

Long blonde hair covers gold eyes as Q dips her head, chin to chest, cheeky smile on her still kiss swollen lips. Rachel
watches, fingers itching to reach out and brush those silky locks away, to tip that chin back up and press a kiss to those
lips.
"Are you disturbed about having another voice within the woman you love?"

Rachel breathes shakily, "Yes."

Those eyes slide up and lock, partially hidden beneath blonde hair, "I won't hurt you. Do you believe me, when I say that?"

Rachel tilts her chin, intending to answer, but the look hidden within those eyes has words escaping her. She can read
Quinn so easily, just from the way her eyes shine or how she bites at her bottom lip, but Q has none of those qualities; her
face is so closed off, the true intent in her eyes hiding behind a barrier created and perfected over the years. The woman
before her is nothing but a stranger and she doesn't know what the hell to think when it comes to Q Fabray.

"Are you hungry? Dinner is still on the table." And she shuffles around the stock still figure, manoeuvring so that she leaves
a good three inches between them in the narrow doorway. She barely glances at the bed as she walks through, wondering
who she would be sharing that bed with tonight, before heading into the main room.
She doesn't feel Q's presence behind her. She can always feel when the woman is behind her, or near her; but there's
nothing, her heart doesn't jump, nor does her spine tingle.
The food on the table has cooled considerably, and just looking at the meal reminds her of happy conversation only a few
hours before. Quinn had been sat in that seat, laughing and joking about how her love affair with food should have her sent
to some form of Alcoholics Anonymous.

Rachel chews on her thumbnail, glancing at the meal, half wondering if she should just dump it and throw it. Quinn hated
cold food, but then again, Q would eat a freshly caught animal if given the chance. But wouldn't that be making an
assumption? What's to say wolf/human likes their meat hot?
She's chewed straight through her nail by the time Q wanders into the living room, taking it slow, feet planted firmly on the
ground with each individual step; getting used to walking on two legs. She clutches at door frames, counters and even the
back of the couch as she walks, trying hard to keep her balance. Her pride would be shot to hell if she face planted the
wooden floor in her haste to get across the room.

"Are you hungry?" Her voice sounds so distant, even to herself. It's disconcerting. She's always prided herself on having a
strong voice, never backing down; her bargaining with the Director of her show was proof enough of that. Right now, she
sounds so weird, so devoid of any emotion.

Q's back stiffens, "What's wrong? Why has your attitude changed all of a sudden?"
"I don't-," She licks at her dry lips, "I don't know."

The brush of a hand against her lower back has her stiffen, has her hold her breath as that soft hand trails it's way up the
line of her spine. Q watches the path of her hand, noting the way that the muscles in Rachel's back have tightened so
much that it almost feels as if she's caressing a wall.
"Relax." She whispers, trailing her hand back down, and just as she reaches the dip of Rachel's back, she's almost
relieved to feel the singer slowly relax her muscles. She luxuriates in the texture of Rachel's shirt, a soft blend of cotton, a
texture she's never felt before. It's the polar opposite to her fur, while soft, still holding a coarse texture that always makes
her snout itch uncomfortably.
Her fingertips trail across the bottom of Rachel's shirt, her fingernails barely brushing the skin beneath. Rachel doesn't
tense, nor does she turn around, she just continues to stare at the table, chin dipped to her chest, breathing raggedly.
"Do you think I'm going to hurt you?" She asks, almost leisurely as she runs the pad of her middle finger against the soft
skin. "It's understandable that you would feel that way, especially after what transpired between Michael and I." Rachel's
back stiffens once more at that, "He hurt you. I decided to hurt him in return."

"You scarred him for life. He hurt his own family by hurting mine, wasn't that enough?"
"You cried each and every night, Rachel." Q's voice lowers, gruff but still holding a tone of warmth, "I sat there and watched
you cry for hours, unable to do anything. You were fine before he came along and ruined everything."
"He wasn't the only bad guy, Q." Rachel shudders as the blonde's fingertip trails up the base of her spine, "Leroy was
guilty too. Does that mean you wanted to attack him?"

She swears that she can feel Q smirk behind her, "I'm not cruel. Of course, I wouldn't have minded attacking him, but he
was your father after all."

Rachel's head flicks over her shoulder, pinning the blonde with darkened eyes, "And Michael was the man he loved. I
hated him, I still do, but did he deserve to be scarred for life?"

"You wanted him dead, just like I did."

And Rachel just walks away.

She doesn't see Rachel for around forty-five minutes until the bedroom door opens and one pillow and a blanket is thrown
straight at her head. She catches them, because her reflexes are beyond spectacular, and shoots a look at Rachel as if to
ask 'what the hell is this?'
"You're sleeping on the couch. Don't even think about coming in here unless Quinn is back in her body."

"Hm." Q purses her lips, "Are you sure you don't have some form of dog bed to sleep in? I'm almost positive that being
relegated to the couch isn't enough for you."

Rachel's eyes narrow, "Be lucky you're getting the couch."

And the door is slammed shut, leaving a half pissed half amused wolf/human hybrid alone in the middle of the room. She
lowers the block in the back of her mind and sighs softly.
"How you deal with her moods, Quinn, I will never know."

I'm totally pissed with you right now, get on the fucking couch and stay there.
"Why the hostility?" Q asks through a smirk.

You're unbelievable. You blocked me so I couldn't talk. I couldn't stop you from talking about the one thing she didn't
want to talk about! I want back in my body, right now.
"No can do," Q whispers, glancing up at the still shut bedroom door. She doesn't want Rachel hearing in on the one-sided
conversation. That would be bad.

What do you mean, no can do? Put me back in my damn body!

"It's my turn now, Q. You've had plenty of time with my mate, I'm sure I've gained some form of time with her, have I not?"

You're with her all the time, inside of me!

"It's not good enough. How about I let you back into your body just before Christmas?"

Christmas is eight days away. You expect me to wait while you completely destroy my relationship?
"If anything," She crawls onto the couch, doing two small circles to find a perfect spot and then just stretches out, cracking
aching bones and relaxing those tense muscles. Quinn really was a ball of tension. "I'm doing the polar opposite."

What the hell is that suppose to mean?

"You'll see."

Bu-,
"Goodnight, Quinn."

The next morning, Rachel creeps out from the bedroom, already dressed and cream winter coat wrapped around her
delicate frame. On sock covered feet, she pads as quietly as she can over the front door, eyes locked on shoes. She
would have gone for the heels that she fell in love with as soon as she saw them; a bright red pair that she had bought for
a bargain price at a discount store, but the snow had come down in the bucketfuls the night before and she knew she
wouldn't get anywhere without some form of boot on.
She's already slipped on one boot on before she hears a gentle clearing of the throat behind her. Bent over, hand on her
boot, the other braced on the door frame to keep her steady, she purses her lips and shuts her eyes.
"What a beautiful morning." Q chuckles softly, taking in the rather delicious looking rear of her mate. "Where are you
going?"
"To see a friend."

"Friend?" She hears the leather of the couch crunch as Q moves, walking slowly toward her. The footsteps are completely
different to Quinn's graceful ones; she still isn't back in her own body. Rachel sighs with disappointment. "What friend?"

"A friend from college," She stamps her foot down to fully place the boot and reaches up to grab her scarf, "I promised I'd
meet her for coffee this morning."

"Who?"
"You wouldn't know her."

"I know everyone Quinn knows."

Rachel wraps the scarf around her neck, tightening it around her neck so much so that it makes her deep a deep breath
just to get some air into her lungs. It keeps her grounded, it keeps her in control.
"I'm going to see Sophia."

"Then I'm coming with you, then."

Rachel turns almost lightening fast to stare at the blonde, "No- I mean- Why would you do that?"

The blonde shrugs gently, eyes solid on the singer's face, "From what you told Quinn last night, I can only assume Sophia
will be angry with you. I'll go and stop any sort of... disagreement."

"Q-,"
"Rachel."

She takes a shuddering breath; she loves hearing her name from Quinn's lips, that husky tone that she's loved since she
can remember. But there's a distance, along with those eyes that almost stare at her like it's sending a silent order. Those
eyes are telling her to give in, to listen to the Alpha, so she takes a steadying breath and-,
"No. You're not coming. I can deal with this on my own, Q. Eventually I'll have to deal with things by myself without you
standing behind me."
"I am only protecting you, Rachel."

Rachel nips at her lower lip, "I know."

"I'm not being clichd, but I was born to protect. A wolf naturally defends it territory and the things it loves. It's in my DNA; I
was born this way."
Rachel dips her chin, "That should have been on your t-shirt."

"Excuse me?"
"Nothing," She raises her head again and smiles softly, "I appreciate it, okay? But I need to do this by myself, just like I'll
have to deal with other things by myself. I can't have you as my shadow forever, Q."
It goes against her will to deny. The only thing she is willing to deny her mate is the opportunity to turn into a werewolf just
like her; but she has her own reasons for denying. It may hurt to deny, but it would hurt infinitely more if she had her mate's
death on her conscience. But there are just some things, she has to give into. "Fine. Do as you will."

Rachel blows out a breath, relief flooding over her features.

"Then you won't mind if I go out, myself?"

And she shrugs, because why should she care? "Go ahead. I'll be back sometime this afternoon." She doesn't add the
whole 'if I'm still alive' thing, because she knows Q will just pin her down until the day is over.

Q's mouth flaps open and shut as Rachel reaches for her keys, "You're not going to ask where I'm going?"
"I trust you enough not to ask," She replies, pocketing the keys and checking her cell for the time. She has twenty minutes;
more than enough time to catch the subway.
"So you trust me now?" Q asks, sounding rather pleased with herself.

"No." And Rachel opens the door, "I trust Quinn to keep you in check while you're out."

Q sighs, stepping back to sit on the couch arm, hands cupping her knees. Rachel tilts her head to the side in
contemplation as she watches the blonde, obviously conflicted.
"You know, if you apologized for attacking him, I think I'd be able to forgive you."

The blonde's head shakes softly from side to side, blonde locks wafting ever so slightly, "I'll apologize for my behaviour
last night and for what I said to you. But you cannot ask me to apologize for attacking him. It was deserved."

The singer's hand clutches the door handle tightly, cold metal digging uncomfortably into the palm of her hand, "Then I
guess I can't forgive you, Q." Then she shrugs and walks out of the door, shutting it with a soft click.

Rachel had text Sophia straight after she corralled the girl's role for her own. It was a short and to the point text, 'Coffee
tomorrow at Starbucks near campus? My treat?' to which Sophia had responded almost as shortly, 'Sure.'

Now she was sat in that very same Starbucks that she bought her morning coffee everyday before school and instead of
the excitement of the day ahead, was now replaced with an overwhelming felling of dread. Thinking back on it, she
honestly can't remember what was going through her mind when she all but told the director she would be better in that
role than Sophia. He hadn't been able to put any argument forward to that; after all, he had seen something in Rachel
Berry the day she got up on the stage.
Sophia had been cocky, so cocky in fact that it enraged her to a whole new level. Quinn could be cocky from time to time,
and Maxwell was the epitome of cockiness, but there was something about Sophia that she just couldn't take. Perhaps it
was the fact that Sophia was so cool and collected, or maybe the fact that she could run rings around her without breaking
a sweat.
Was it jealousy?

Sophia bustles into the cramped Starbucks, dusting the light snow that had gathered on the shoulders of her winter coat,
before pulling off her beanie hat and shaking it vigorously. She glances around, her shining eyes taking in everyone that
had bustled in to get some warm coffee on this spectacularly beautiful but crisp snowy morning.
Her eyes lock with Rachel's, and taking a heaving breath, the singer smiles and raises her hand to signal the girl over.

She watches as Sophia walks toward her, softly apologizing to customers that she bumps into, chuckling when one man
winks at her and blushing when one woman actually blows a kiss in her direction. Her hair is curled to perfection, her
cheeks flush, lips curled in a small smile.

The girl is together and the epitome of perfection. Did this woman have even one fucking flaw?

Jealousy?

Oh God, yes.

Thanks to Quinn's photographic memory, it isn't particularly difficult to wander around New York and not get lost. Quinn
had made it a mission when she first moved to New York to know each available route to every borough, and especially
the quickest route to the reserve park at which she hunted.
Q isn't particularly in the mood to hunt, which is shocking, but she does fancy that beer stuff that Quinn tends to drink with
her friend Maxwell, the wolf from Brooklyn, living under the leadership of the Brooklyn Alpha. The blonde can hardly believe
that both Quinn and Max had created a friendship between each other, knowing that she was under the jurisdiction of the
Manhattan Alpha. And the fact that Max overlooked that fact, even though the blonde was an Alpha herself, shocked Q.
Did the boy have a death wish?

She walks the route to the comic book store, knowing that only a block down from Maxwell's place of work was their
regular go-to bar. They sold ice cold beer and the best nachos money could buy in New York.

Her hand rubs at her stomach as she walks, slowly, bypassing lumps of snow brushed to the side by city workers and fast
moving citizens as they dash to work. She doesn't know how the beer will effect her; after all, it barely has any effect on
Quinn. Sure, she may get a littlehyperactive, but that 'drunk' feeling she's heard so much about, doesn't really take hold
of Quinn after a night of drinking.

Those nachos though

Her feet are aching by the time she makes it a block away from the bar, and she starts to bend over to put pressure on her
hands, but just as her fingertips are about to brush the snow at her feet, she stops. She's a human here, she's not a wolf,
she has to learn to walk on two feet.

If she wants to prove to herself, to Quinn, and most especially to Rachel that she can behave and go about her day as a
human being, she can't keep running to old comforts. It's against everything she knows, but she stands back up straight,
shoves her hands in her coat pockets and continues to walk, biting back a groan of pain every time her feet pound against
the sidewalk.
Here, right now, she's no longer a wolf. Here, right now, she's a human. To the people around her, she looks just like one
of them; she can blend in, she can live like them. She can go into a bar and strike up a conversation and drink beer and
eat nachos until cheese comes out of her ears- wait.

Conversation? She can barely hold a conversation with her mate without alienating her or pissing her off. The second time
Quinn had visited a bar in New York with Maxwell, a brawl had started just because of a 'funny look'. What exactly was a
funny look?
She had a lot to learn.

And she knows that she can learn what it is to be human in Sidebar.

She can't help but cringe when Sophia orders a Caffe Latte, settles it down at their table and pours additional milk into the
already milky coffee. It's almost pure white by the time it meets her lips, and Rachel can't help but mourn how the cows
were treated to make such a disgusting drink. She sips at her Soy Latte and puts no more thought into it however,
because Sophia settles her drink down, hands cupped around the hot mug and smiles.

"I know why you called me here."

She refuses to choke on her coffee, "Oh?"

"Yes." Blue eyes shine softly under the light, "I'll admit I was a bit of a grade A bitch to you yesterday. I didn't mean to make
you feel worse than you already did about Emily taking over your role."

"Oh." It seems as if it's the only word available in her vocabulary of late. She takes one almighty gulp of her coffee,
savouring the way it burns her tongue and throat as she swallows before settling the cup down.

"No actress wants to hear about a better an actress in their role. It's cruel."

Okay, seriously?

"I believe in my abilities and I'll admit that Emily may be better than me in some respects, but it's what you do with your
talent that really matters."

"Well of course," Sophia replies smoothly with a flick of her hand, "I'm sure you'll be able to show that... talent... next year,
when auditions begin again."

Rachel's bottom teeth tap slowly against the rim of her mug, only allowing a few drops of her already cooling coffee into
her mouth. She takes her time, swallows the brew and settles her cup down. "Actually, Director Edwards offered me
another role."
Sophia's eyes widen, but she stills her features before Rachel can really put it down to panic or shock, "Really? Well, that's
brilliant." She couldn't sound anymore transparent if she tried.
"Hm. He was happy to offer me the role."

"Offer?" The green eyed monster is such a beautiful thing in times like these.
"Yes. I spoke to him and asked if I could have my role back, of course, it was too late and Emily was doing a better job
than I. But he wanted only the best for the show and I happened to be a better choice than another member of the cast. So
he offered me their role."

She sees Sophia's jaw clench and unclench beneath the skin, the bone almost protruding as she forces her teeth
together. "And whose role would that have been?"

Brown eyes flick down to the table, "Another coffee?"

The smell alone is enough to make her nauseous. To any normal human being the smell, while being a little overpowering,
would be bearable. But to her, it smells as if she's just gone on a mass hunt and left the carcasses under a blaring hot sun
to ferment.

How Quinn actually enjoys this place is almost as mysterious as the answer to the meaning of life. It's bigger than she
thought it would be, granted, and the large bay window at the front of the bar gives it more than enough light to fill the
place. TV after TV line the walls, showing baseball games, football games and even European soccer if anyone is feeling
particularly adventurous that day. But there's just something a littleoffabout it. No one seems to be smiling and most of
the guys that are sat at the bar are staring into the bottoms of their glasses like their world is coming to an end.

A large group of college students sit right at the back, three guys and two girls, bantering over copious amounts of alcohol
that Q suddenly gets a taste for. There's a weird blue concoction that she can't seem to get her head around; were drinks
suppose to be almost bright blue?

She might just stay away from that particular drink.

"Can I help you?" A chirpy bartender asks, feeling almost out of place to the bored looking patrons sat at the bar. They've
taken to lifting their heads from time to time to watch the game, but then their heads are back in the depths of their drinks,
silently hoping for escape.

"Yes." She walks as primly as she can over to the bar. She can do this. She can act human. She is part human after all.
She fumbles at the bar stool and lets out a groan of relief when her ass hits it. The pressure is immediately taken off her
feet and she's never felt something so glorious - well, except for making out with Rachel Berry.
The bartender waits, fingertips tapping the heavy wood of the bar, asking silently with his eyes what she wants. He hears
his name, muted and unclear, and as he glances up the bar, he sees who wants to be served again. With a heavy sigh, he
looks back to the pretty blonde in front of him and smiles softly, "I'll give you a few minutes to decide."

Okay, seriously, how hard could this possibly be? Just order a drink, drink it, order some nachos, eat them, watch some of
that sports junk and then leave. She feels her heart pound powerfully in her chest, her breathing laboured, and if she really
thinks about it, she feels just a little nervous. Never in her life has she felt nervous before; as a wolf, she mostly just feels
powerful, no need to be nervous. But this is just horrible and disconcerting and it has her wiggling in her seat because she
knows she feels out of place but she knows she has a right to be here just like everyone else.
The college students at the back of the bar are the same age as her; they have no issues being in here and drinking, so
why should she? Oh. There was a law, wasn't there?
"Know what you want to drink yet?" The bartender is back, bright eyed and bushy tailed, floppy brown hair covering his
eyes so much she can't exactly tell the color of them. "Or do you want some recommendations?"
Beer. Quinn always drinks this beer stuff, from a bottledoesn't she? Shit, why won't her mind work? Her mind goes blank
to the memory of Quinn's time in the bar and she knows instantly that Quinn is trying to get through to her, to break that
barrier down from the inside so she can be released and put back into her body.

"Tough luck," Q grumbles to herself, glancing up at the board above the bartenders head. "I'll have a beer."
He nods, "Okay, what beer?"

"From a bottle?" She asks, with a shrug, like it's the most usual thing anyone could ever say.
He chuckles, almost nervously, "I uhokay, but what beer? Coors? Budweiser? Bavarian?"

It was a B. It has red on it, she knows that much. God dammit, she's going to kill Quinn when she has the chance. She
bites at her bottom lip, ponders for just a second and takes an executive decision; Quinn can hide all the memories she
wants, but it won't ruin Q's chance at having a normal human day.
"Budweiser."

"Sure thing. You got ID?"

"Excuse me?"

Rachel settles down with a fresh coffee, and as she takes a sip of the hot brew, she notices that Sophia still has that
dangerous flashing look still in her eyes. Sophia is waiting for Rachel to explain what she had meant, about whose role
she had taken, but Rachel, suddenly feeling rather diabolical, stretches it out as far as she can.
Sophia has been the bane of her existence ever since they both met one another. Day after day, showing off and blatantly
throwing it in Rachel's face like she's some sort of failure. She had felt like that for most of her school years; she didn't
need a girl who was suppose to be an adult, dragging up old memories of a time she'd rather forget about.

"Sowhose role were you given?"

Thunderous blue and shining brown meet in a crackle of electricity. The tension that surrounds their tensed and coiled
bodies has people looking over their shoulders at them; they can sense that some sort of fight is going to break out
between these almost sweet looking girls.

"There was a time when I thought we could have been friends with one another, and sometimes, I do wish we were. As a
duo, we'd be unstoppable. But I'm not in this business to be a part of a duo act."

Sophia's jaw sets.

"I'm out for my goal, the one thing I've wanted since I was a little girl, and if that means I have to stab someone in the back
to get it, I'll do it gladly. I knew I'd have to do it at one time or another, and honestly, I didn't think I'd be doing it while still at
college and not for a chance at Broadway."

"Will you please get to the point?" Her cheeks are flush red and Rachel sits up higher in her seat, preparing herself for a
slap or the girl to dive across the table to pull at her hair like a three year old delinquent.

"I asked Director Edwards for your role and he gave me it."
The clinking of coffee mugs and customers talking amongst one another as they wait for their orders to be taken. The hiss
of spraying coffee and a distinct but awakening smell of fresh beans. The happy smiles and gentle laughter. The incessant
tapping of keys on a laptop keyboard and the grumbling tones of business men and women as they pass with a cell phone
to their ear. The look of pure, unadulterated hatred across the table.
"You're welcome to hit me, but please do try to avoid my nose."

Sophia's mouth flaps open, and just when she's about to say something, she clears her throat and looks away. She locks
eyes with the passing commuters outside the window, watches them as they pass with their own worries. She doesn't
know what to think; she worked so hard to get that role and now

It's just gone.

"You bitch."

"Your ID. Your personal identification? A driving license? Passport?"

She doesn't even know what those are.

What's a passport when it's at home?

"I uhmleft themat home."

His eyes wrinkle as he smiles through a cringe, "I'm sorry, I can't serve you unless you have ID."

"Why do you need ID?" Q asks, completely confused. She'll kill Quinn; the memories of drinking laws and beers and
where exactly her ID was were rapidly disappearing and she couldn't do anything to stop it.

"You look under 25. By law, I'm suppose to ID you to make sure you're 21 and over."
Okay, now that's just damn right confusing. Q leans back slightly, fingertips grasping the cold wood of the bar for leverage
as she thinks it through. Ages mean nothing in the wolf world, in fact, even cubs are counted as adults because they grow
up so fast; they hold the same responsibilities, they hunt by themselves as soon as they're deemed to have learnt enough
and even go off and start their own pack still at such a tender age.
But in the human world, there are declarations set in stone as to what you can and cannot do. You must be 21 to consume
alcohol? Wellhow does Quinn drink when she is only 19?
"I'm sorry, but you must have seen me in here before. I drink with a man called Max." She fights off a cringe as she says
his name.
"Sorry, no ID, no service." His fingertips tap the bar in almost a melodious rhythm before he disappears back up the bar to
serve another customer.
Q stares after him, jaw set, eyes narrowed. The rage isn't anywhere near as strong as she's felt before; being stuck
behind that barrier pretty much was the worst rage she'd ever felt, only second to that idiot Michael Hunter.
How does Quinn get away with drinking under age?

"How do you do it?" She mumbles to herself, letting that barrier simmer down ever so slightly in the back of her mind.
She needs to know. She needs to know what it feels like to be human just for a few days.

You really think I'm going to let you drown my body in booze after everything you've done?
Q smirks ever so slightly to herself, dipping her head to her chest so she can't be seen talking to herself. She may be in a
bar, but she's sure that people don't really appreciate watching people mumble to themselves.

"I really haven't done anything."

You've locked me behind this barrier because you want to live out a life that wasn't intended for you. You're a wolf. I'm
the human. Live your own life and let me live my own.
"I said just for a few days."
Within a few hours of being with Rachel she threw your ass to the couch. How can I relax and allow you to be around her
when you'll just continue to alienate and piss her off?
"If I promise I won'twill you tell me where your ID is."

Excuse me if I don't believe your promises.

"Tomorrow morning. I'll let you back in your body, just" Q sighs, tips her head to the side so she can look at that bay
window overlooking the New York street, "Give me one day as a human." And it hurts her, right down to the core, because
it's going against everything she ever stood by since she was born, but in her most pleading tone, husky and wanting she
says, "Please."

And there's nothing in the back of her mind, even though that barrier is still down. She hears nothing from her human
counterpart, and she can feel that bartender's eyes staring at her as she continues to stare out of the window. She knows
she shouldn't be sat here, gathering this attention; she wants to be anonymous - just another person in New York that
wants a beer and a plate of food that could settle even the most giant of stomachs.

In my wallet. It's in myyour back pocket. Try not to show the real one. The fake one is tucked beneath a receipt.
Q smiles, softly, "Thanks."

Keep your promise Q.

She smirks mischievously before putting the barrier back up. "I will." And she's already reaching into her back pocket to
pull out a faux leather wallet, she flips it open and tries to find that piece of paper that Quinn spoke about. And it's there,
behind her bank card and her drivers license. Another drivers license, almost identical to the real one, but with a distinct
difference.

It puts her age as 22 and Q can't help but smirk. Sneaky sonofabitch.
With pride, she slams the ID down to the bar and with a true human quality, smug as can be, orders, "A Budweiser and a
plate of nachos!"

She almost rolls her eyes at the predictability of the statement and as an actress, she's honestly surprised that someone
like Sophia can't really think of anything more artistic to say. Obviously, people have called Sophia many more names
than that; after all, she can be a prize bitch from time to time and not just because they held a regular animosity that two
people held who wanted the same thing. Sophia could be a bitch in any respect.

"You complete and utter bitch." Her voice doesn't get louder, it's low and so incredibly dangerous. For a second, Rachel
thanks all that's holy that Sophia took the time to finish her coffee before she was told the truth. She doesn't really want hot
coffee poured onto her lap. But just to cover all the bases

She downs her own coffee until only a few drops are left dejected at the bottom of the mug.
"I needed this, Sophia."

"And you think I didn't?" The brunette hisses, elbows on the table as she leans forward. "You honestly think that I didn't
need that role just as much as you? I know as well as anyone else at Julliard that to get onto any Broadway show worth it's
salt, you need to have a good repertoire."
"Off Broadway offers it's chances to actress'."

Sophia's eyes narrow, "Then why the hell didn't you do that? Why did you have to steal the role that I worked my ass off to
get?"

"You needed a reality check." Rachel sighs softly, "You're always going to be stabbed in the back in this business. I'm your
first taste at that."

"When I first met you, I thought you would be completely different." The actress sits back, head shaking softly from side to
side, "I honestly believed I could have some form of friendship with you, but you're just like those bitchy girls in high
school."
Rachel swallows in reflex, feeling the realization hit a little too close for comfort.
"I could see it as soon as I saw you at that audition. You were there with something to prove. The people at school thought
you were just delusional. You were picked on and bullied and called every single name under the sun." The singer makes
no reply, she just sets her jaw, "It happened every day to me. They thought I was some sort of freak because instead of
going out and getting drunk and getting laid, I wanted to stay in and practice my songs or my audition pieces."
"I'm not-,"
"You are. You're just like them. You're bitchy and heartless and if you'd have taken one second to look and see how much
that role meant to me, you wouldn't have gone behind my back and taken it."

"Sophia," Rachel sighs, watching as the brunette gets up, almost ripping her jacket back on, "I'm sorry, I just-,"
"You're a cold and calculating bitch, Rachel. Good luck with the play."

And she's gone.

She keeps the ID on the bar just because she can. She glances at it from time to time as she sips at her beer. The beer
itself isn't anything she would really commend; it's ice cold, which is nice, but it has this deep and yeasty flavour that while
her taste buds enjoy, send a completely different signal up to her wolf brain.

Quinn enjoys this beer, but Q doesn't. How peculiar.

The barman, who's name she's learnt is Rick, comes back with a huge platter that has her eyes going as wide as saucers.
Her first taste of real, honest to God, human food is about to arrive. He settles it down before her and she stares at the
cylindrical plate. It's stuffed high as can be with nachos, melted cheese, little peppers she learnt from the menu as
jalapeos and this weird topping called guacamole.
It's like a God damn work of art. She stares at it and has to actually swallow because she can feel the saliva build up in her
mouth.
"Enjoy." Rick tells her with a smile before disappearing back up the bar.

She actually inspects it from all angles, and even gets off her bar stool to look around it. She knows she looks like a
complete moron, and the giggling and muted whispering from the back of the room where the college students sit isn't
anywhere near quiet enough for her not to hear. She can hear an animal from ten miles away, she can sure as hell hear
them as if they were sat beside her and screaming in her ear. They're laughing and calling her crazy, the way that she
stares at food like it's come from space itself.
The guys whistle and mutter under their breath that she's a 'hot piece of ass' and that they would 'tap that any day of the
week.' The girls just scoff and ask in bitchy tones to one another what the hell she's wearing and that her hair is 'in
desperate need of a stylist.'

Q isn't stupid. She can smell the sex that's radiating off the guys and the pure jealousy from the girls. If anything, it makes
her feel powerful. So as she sits down back at her stool, she picks up one of the nachos, watching as the melted cheese
stretches as she lifts and lets that morsal drop onto her tongue.
She chews for several moments, not really tasting anything, and just when she's about to complain to Q about it having the
texture of cardboard, it hits.
Heady cheese, spicy hot peppers and guacamole that makes her mouth melt just a little bit more. She hums around the
mouthful, eyes wide as she stares down at it.
It's a gift from heaven and she would be in remiss if she left even just a small bite left on that plate.

She takes a second mouthful, and right in the middle of chewing, she glances to her right, up to those college students
and opens her mouth to show them all the half chewed up and masticated food.

The guys laugh, the girls squeal with disgust and Q just takes another bite.

She sits in Starbucks, on her own, for at least another twenty minutes before the idea of getting up actually hits her.
Sophia hadn't even said that much, but everything she had said, just sealed that coffin that she deserved to laid in. She
was just like the people at school that picked on her relentlessly and she should have known that someone like Sophia,
although beautiful, would have been picked on by people who didn't understand her love of theatre.
They would have been the slushy duo at McKinley, she knows that much.

She's only been here half a year and she already feels as if she's going through a metamorphosis; is this the person that
was really hiding behind all those layers of argyle and kindness back in school? Deep down, was she really the same as
those cold hearted kids back in high school that called her every name they could think of?
The thought terrifies her to no end, and just for a second, she thinks about giving the role back. But this is New York, this
isn't a high school playground anymore. If you don't run with the big time, you're going to be left behind eating their dust.
She refuses to be another aspiring actress to get lost and lose their way. She wanted to be somebody here.

She wants to prove anyone that ever doubted her wrong.

Sliding her coat back on, she leaves the warmth of the coffee house and stands out in the cold winter streets of New York.
The icy bite of cold wind that breezes past her sets her in motion; she wants to go back home and just sleep until it's time
to go back to school. Christmas is only a week away, Hanukkah only two days away, and she refuses to be in a funk for
either of them.
She's halfway home on the subway when her phone vibrates in her pocket. She half wonders if it'll be Qor Quinn, for that
matter, just as she looks at the name on the screen, she just lets out a small groan that has a middle aged woman turning
around to stare at her.

The plate of nachos are long gone, and so are the college students. An entirely new group of people have come in to
make the bar their home for the afternoon; most of them are business men on a late lunch break, others are random city
goers looking for a warm place to sit and get a hot meal in their bellies.
She's on hershe doesn't even know what beer she's on. The bottles that had piled up rather spectacularly beside her
have been taken away by Rick who tells her as he comes back that he's off shift in an hour. She doesn't know what that
means, but nods as her mouth wraps back around the neck of the bottle in her hand.

His attention upon her almost disturbs her, but the slight buzz that her body feels just kind of numbs her to the fact that he
keeps looking over his shoulder at her as he pulls another beer for a patron.

She glances up when he's walking back to her, a fresh bottle in her hand that she most definitely hadn't ordered, when she
sees it. He smirks, settles the bottle before her and points to a guy across the other side of the bar to say it was from him.
She glances, barely, but takes the bottle anyway.
"He says he wants to speak to you."

She doesn't really want to speak to anyone, but when she glances up, she notices that throughout his shift, Rick has
pushed back his sweaty hair to reveal deep hazel eyes. She locks her own with him, making sure to keep her own from
flashing golden; she doesn't like the way he's staring at her, so she puts herself on the automatic defence.
"Tell him I'm not interested, thank you."

"He doesn't want to talk to you about that."

And no matter what she does, she can't seem to tear her eyes away, and she's glad she doesn't, because there's a flash
beneath those hazel eyes and she shifts back in her seat. "You're-,"
"Go see him." He wipes the remnants of stale beer from her part of the bar with a wet dishcloth and picks up her empty,
"Seriously. It's in your best interest that you do."
And Q swallows, glancing up the bar toward the back, where in a booth, sat by himself, sits a man, early forties with a
tumbler of some form of spirit in his hand. He swirls the liquid in the glass softly from side to side, eyes locked with hers,
and he's only just nodded his head as an invitation, when she's got to her feet.

"Sweetie?"

"Hello Leroy" Rachel replies, indifferent to her father's use of pet name, "What can I do for you?"

"Well, you haven't really called in months. I was just wondering how school was going?"

"It's fine."

There's silence, apart from the rattling of subway tracks as it follows it's path across the city. She glances around, trying to
fight out the inevitable awkwardness that emanates from the both of them talking; she can only thank a higher being that
she isn't there in person to feel that uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach every time she looks at him.

"A-Are you sure? You don't sound too positive on that."

"It's school, I'm under a lot of pressure."

"Ah yes, well that's natural. Just try not to burn yourself out, hm?"

"I just need time off, which I'm getting, thanks to the holidays."
"Of course."

She chews at her lip, knowing that she shouldn't have mentioned the holidays. If he invites himself to New York or her to
Ohio, she'll throw herself out the subway train. "Was there anything else you needed?

"Have you spoken to your dad?" There's a pregnant pause, "I mean, recently?"

Rachel's eyes narrow in on her stop and she gets ready to leave, battling her way through the throng of journeyers to get to
the train door. "Not really. He's been busy with work and I've been busy with rehearsals. Why?"

"You're aware that the divorce is final."

She sighs as the train comes to a stop, "Yes."

"Please don't be angry when I tell you this, sweetie."

"Tell me what?" The doors slide open, hissing almost obnoxiously loudly.
People shove past her as she stands there stock still. She can barely hear them shout out for her to move, that she's
blocking the exit, but her feet feel like lead weights. She stares at the subway station wall, mouth agape, eyes dead and
unfocused. Her hand lays limp at her side, phone held in a tight vice grip. If she tries, she can hear Leroy's voice mutter
'hello? Rachel?' but she can't even bring herself to disconnect the call as the subway doors slide shut once more.
She's almost thrown as the train presses forward to it's new destination, and she can hardly bring herself to care that she's
missed her stop.

"Michael proposed to me a week ago. We're getting married."

*Chapter 16*: Chaos within Order
The booze distances her from the man she's sitting across from. She knows she should have smelt him from across the
room. She knows she should have felt his presence as soon as he entered her mental radar. The beer has destroyed any
sense of control within her, and while the feeling isn't completely overwhelming, her body feels light and her lipsshe can't
even feel her damn lips.
She sucks on her bottom lip as the man orders another drink; he says nothing, just tips his index finger up and drops the
hand back down to his lap with a soft thud. He's easily double her size, some fat, some muscle, but those eyes. She can't
drag her own eyes away from them, and no matter how hard she tries, she can't seem to shake the feeling of foreboding
that engulfs her body.

He isn't giving off any direct signals that he's going to attack, but of course, why would he? Sidebar is filling with it's late
afternoon crowd and due to the fact it's so close to Christmas, young party goers start to flock to the bar to get a head
start on the long evening ahead.

Rick comes back with a fresh tumbler of whisky, three ice cubes clinking against the side of the high price glass - that
glass was too expensive to use at such a regular bar, this guy was special. He also drops a fresh bottle of Budweiser
before her, and he tops the cap right there before walking off, not even saying a word.
The man swirls his drink, hand clenched daintily around the glass. Her mouth is dry just from watching the small movement
and her hand itches to grab the bottle, but her hands won't move from their clasped position on her lap.
"Drink up."

And her hands move almost automatically, clasping the neck of the bottle. She takes a long swig, so long in fact that she
pulls half the beer before it's put to rest back on the booth table. He watches her calculated movements carefully; he can
smell the booze on her breath, she's had a few, and a girl of her size, it must have hit her straight.
"Drunk?"

"I don't-," She glances away from him and toward the bartender who looks up at her, hazel eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
He can hear the discussion from across the room while holding a conversation with another customer. He gives nothing
away in his expression and it's only when he looks back to the customer, who is in the midst of cracking a rather old and
well used joke, does she turn back to the man opposite her.

Suddenly, she feels incredibly out of her depth. If she was in wolf form she could deal with this in the only way she knew;
fighting.

"You've been here a few hours." He glances at his watch, a new range Omega with diamonds encrusted into the clock
face, "In fact, you've been here most of the afternoon. I smelt you as soon as you entered the borough."

Her fingertips drag up and down, skimming against the moisture of her rapidly warming beer. She feels the heat
emanating from him and usually it wouldn't bother her because she's hot bloodied, but this heat, it's almost stifling.

"You usually hang around with Maxwell, don't you?" He adjusts himself in his seat, crossing one leg over the other. He
takes his time to look down and adjust his pinstripe tie so it falls directly centre of his suit jacket. Obviously this is a man
that takes a great deal of time over his appearance, and his longish black hair, cut and styled almost perfectly, is
testament to that.

"I-," She finds it irritating that she can't find her voice; she's an Alpha, an Alpha is suppose to be strong and take charge in
any given situation. That sinking feeling settles deeper in her stomach and she half wishes Quinn was back in her body to
take control of this; she's the human, she's the expert at this sort of confrontation. If it's not fighting, she doesn't want to
know. "Yes. Usually."

"Word on the grapevine is that you two had some form of argument." He takes a controlled sip of his whisky, rolling his
tongue around his mouth to savour the robust flavour.

Oh God, the argument where she almost stole her way into Quinn's body. She was so close and that mutt's neck was just
an inch away from her waiting mouth. She licks at her lips and shudders out a sigh, "We had an argument regarding my
girlfriendif that's what you're referring to."
His eyes dance across her face and instantly her back stiffens, he sizing her up, he knows-
"You're not in your normal body, are you?"

How the fuck.

"How did you-,"

"Your eyes keep flashing for one," He adjusts himself again, almost like he can't keep himself still. His glass remains a
few inches off the table where he continues to swirl, the ice cubes completely melted, "And secondly, Rick always serves
both yourself and Maxwell. He's never seen you act like this before and the whole identification fiasco, one for which I find
hilarious, gave him the idea that you may not be yourself."

Q's jaw tenses, thoroughly annoyed at being caught out, "I guess I'm not good at this wholehuman business."
And he smirks, leaning further back into his seat as he brings his drink to his lips, "I suppose not. How does it feel?"

Her eyes narrow, "Being in a human body?"

He nods, "Of course. I only know a select few that can do that and most of them are Alpha's."

She drinks, just to stall, but he continues to stare, icy eyes staring into hers. It's incredibly disconcerting and she just wants
to bail, no, more than that she wants Quinn back, but this beerit's sending her funny. She can't entirely think straight.
How much had she had to drink?
"Oh don't act like I shouldn't know," He quips, "I could smell it on you. I smell it on you every time you enter the borough."
He takes another long sip, finishing off the alcoholic beverage. He signals for another, not even taking his eyes off of Q,
before continuing, "I'm not going to speak to you like some mutt." His jaw tenses at the word, almost as if he's snarling, "I
know that you're somehow aware of the rules that come with the territory of New York."
"I know of them, yes." Her drinks gone and suddenly she mourns the loss of it. Somehow it was nice to have something to
drink while feeling so unbelievably uncomfortable.
"Then you should know that if another Alpha enters a territory where an Alpha is already in command, you're setting off a
leadership problem."
Q's right eyebrow flicks up, "I have no interest in taking over Brooklyn. I have no issues in the borough I'm living in right
now, so why should I here? Quinn goes to school here, it's not as if I can force her not to continue with her education."
His jaw clenches, "The reason why you have no issues with your borough's Alpha is because he's a weakling. Honestly, I
have no idea why he's still in charge." He glances up as Rick approaches, another beer and whisky in hand. "Rick, do tell
our friend here about Wallace Harper."

"The Alpha?" Rick asks, dropping Q's beer with a thud and gently resting the whisky down. "He's weak. He's hadwhat?
Fourteen attempts on his command over the past three years?" Rick looks to the blonde, pushing his hair back from his
eyes, "He's a complete asshole. He thinks he's the dogs bollocks and he really isn't."
"So why is he still in command?" Her hazel eyes slide back to the man opposite her.

"His pack is particularly strong. To get to him you have to get through them." The man shrugs his shoulders, waving Rick
off with a flick of his hand which has the younger man scampering away. "That's why you've had no issues. He doesn't
wish to start a fight. He likesroutine."
"But you don't."

"No. I don't." Another sip before he leans forward, "I'm going to be frank."
"If that's your name I'll laugh."

"Don't try to be funny," He snarls, stares and then chuckles softly to himself, "I can see why he doesn't want to start a fight
with you; a young prideful Alpha in her prime."

"I take that as a compliment."

"Please do." Silence, a long hard staring contest, the bustling crowd of the bar seems to disappear from around them.
"But you must see my issue when a, let's say fresh, Alpha comes into my territory."

"It's not as if Quinn and I are taking control of your territory. Quinn comes only here to school and see her friend."

"Her friend." His head tilts ever so slightly, "Maxwell Thorpe, right?"
Her fingertips dance across the bottle of her beer; what would happen if she freely admitted that yes, Quinn did hang
around with Max quite a lot of time? Of course, he had Rick to double check that fact, but if she denied it, said that they
only spoke in passing and drank if they were in the same place only because they knew of one another, would she be
seen as a liar or someone who spoke of the truth?

"There's no use denying it. Rick told me you mentioned Maxwell during the whole identification fiasco."
"How the hell do you do that?"

He smirks, "Read your mind?"

"I'm blocking it. How are you doing that?"
"I'm much older than you, I've honed my natural skills."
Something buzzes in her jeans pocket and her head snaps to it, what the bloody hell is that? She fumbles with her hand,
slightly numb and wet from the beer bottle, but eventually it's pulled free. A rectangle thing that has Rachel's face on the
front and the word calling beneath it.

"Aren't you going to answer that?" The man asks, glancing down at the ice cubes.
"I uh," Q clears her throat, taps her finger rather reluctantly and carefully over the answer button and brings it to her ear,
"Hello?"

"Quinn?"

Her head shoots back, "What?" She brings the phone to her ear, "Uhm. No, this is Q."
There's a sigh and it honest to God sounds exactly like Rachel. This is a marvel! First beer, then nachos and now a device
that allows her to speak to someone else when they aren't nearby? This is the electronic version of a howl!

"Oh, Q. Where are you?"

"I'm at a bar."

"A bar? What the- Look, never mind. I'd like you to come home."

"I'm kind of busy."

"I know you want to act out toward me, Q, and I understand that okay? But I really need my girlfriend right now. I need
you here."
"I'm really," She glances slowly back up the man opposite her; he's not looking at her, only glancing around the bar,
obviously bored, "Really busy right now, okay?"

A shuddering sigh, "Fine. Have fun."

Then there's a long tone and she stares at the phone for a couple seconds before dropping it to the table.
"Is there a problem?" He's looking back at her now.

"My mateshe sounded upset." She fidgets, she really wants to go, Rachel needs her. Her fingers itch and her feet ache
to get up and run back home to see her. "I need to go, I need to see her."

"I'm not finished speaking with you."

And she just snaps, "I'm not really in the mood to speak to you right now. I've given you no problems by my being here and
Quinn will continue to school in this borough whether you like it or not. If you wish to continue having an issue, come back
to me when I have a little bit more time to deal with an Alpha that's obviously terrified about having someone stronger and
fitter than him in his territory."
And she's up, pulling on her beer because the confidence seems to grow exponentially when she's had a pull on that brew.
It makes her cringe slightly as she finishes half of it and she's already halfway across the room when she hears a familiar
voice behind her.

"Your phone." He's holding it up as she looks over her shoulder. She storms back across the room and snatches it from
his hand, and she's just about to turn to dash out when there's a strong grip to her wrist. Slowly, she glances down at him,
"Fuck with me and I'll fuck with you. Get the hell out of my territory and stay out."
The grip is so strong, but it's nothing compared to the feeling of the bone in her right arm snapping in two. The burn is
incredible, and she knows that the beast that she is wants to come out and rip his God damn throat out, but she takes a
few steady breaths until she feels the bones set back in place and rips her arm free.

She leaves, enraged and beyond pissed, and she barely holds herself back when she hears, "And stay away from
Maxwell." as the bar door shuts behind her with a quiet thud.
Rachel is pacing the floor of her apartment, her phone lay dejected on the couch. She had called Q and the resulting
phone call had left her more annoyed than relaxed. Her day had gone to shit, actually, the whole day was shit to begin with;
first Q, then Sophia and now Leroy and his God damn news. Could he not wait to tell her?

But of course, he just had to let her know because he 'didn't want to keep anything from her anymore.' She knows she
should really be dealing with this as a responsible adult, after all, she is nineteen and starting a future for herself in New
York. She isn't the sixteen year old girl that depended on her parents anymore; she was independent, and it would stay
that way.
She's emotionally exhausted, but the tears never come. She can't even seem to want to cry. What would it solve? Of
course, it would release all that pressure that she's holding in, but what would it truly solve? Would Q come back from the
bar and tell her it would be okay? Would Leroy call back and say that it was all some sort of sick joke and that he would be
getting back with her dad? Would Sophia knock on the door and tell her that she understood why she went behind her
back and did what she did?
It's all hope. Hope that will never come to fruition.

There's a jingle of keys at the door and muffled groans from behind it. She knows the voice, so she stops in her pacing,
stares at the dark oak and then just settles herself down on the couch, barely avoiding sitting on her phone.

"How the hellkeys" She'd laugh if she had the energy.

Suddenly the door swings open and Rachel actually gasps at how fierce Q's eyes look. They're locked golden but they
hold that ferocity that she knows would have been in her eyes when she attacked Michael. She stands from the couch and
backs away slowly.

"Are you okay?" Q asks, easy as you like, shutting the door softly behind her. She's rubbing at her right arm as she steps
toward the almost cowering brunette, "I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner but the Brooklyn Alpha had me cornered and he
wouldn't let me go."
"Quinn"

"I-," Q stops, yards away from the singer, who is now pressed back against the far wall, "I'm-,"
"I want Quinn back."

"Rachel," She steps forward and she would howl in pain if she could because her mate rushes into the bedroom door and
slams it cleanly behind her. Her eyes burn with tears that beg to shed when she hears the almost finalizing click of the lock.
"I won't hurt you," She whispers softly, collapsing down to the couch.

Let me back, Q.
"This was, uh" She takes in a shuddering breath, forcing herself not to cry, "Harder than I thought."

I know
"When she asks for me back-," She chuckles softly to herself, "If she asks for me back, would you allow it?"

Of course.
"Take care of her."

I will.

It's hard to breathe. The pillow her face is almost buried into stifles all the air away from her burning lungs. She's sobbing,
hard, and she knows the only reason why she is crying is because of those eyes. She'd seen Quinn angry before, she'd
seen how fierce and determined those eyes could get; but those eyes just burned with pure hatred.
"Q-Quinn," She cries, burying her face further into the pillow. She burrows, almost as if she's trying to escape. Her body is
covered over with the comforter, but it offers no heat to her almost frozen body. She looks almost like a tiny insignificant
lump on the bed.

All she wants is a cuddle from her girlfriend.

"Rach? Can you let me in?"

Her head snaps up, that voice; it's no longer deeper and more husky like Q's natural tones. This is Quinn. She jumps from
the bed, almost catches her foot on the comforter and almost head butts the door in her haste, but she unlocks it and
swings it open, forcing herself into Quinn's waiting arms.
"I'm sorry baby, I'm so sorry, I never thought-,"
And she has no words that can make this better for Rachel.

The sounds of shuffling wake her and after actually gathering her senses and realizing, yes, she's in her bedroom, she
takes one glance at the clock and finds the time to be just a little after ten at night. The bed beside her is cold; she
remembers crying herself to sleep in Quinn's arms, finally feeling content and safe enough to actually fall asleep.
She rubs at her eyes, wiping the sleep away as she pushes herself up from the bed. The bedroom door is cracked, but
after taking a quick detour into the ensuite, she heads into the main room.
Quinn is sat crossed legged on the floor, fumbling through a box full of Christmas decorations that Judy and Russell had
put together for them for the holidays. She leans against the door jam, content to watch Quinn fumble around and try to un-
knot the troublesome lights that need to be put on the half put up pop up tree that gracefully only reaches up five feet.

"I'll finally be taller than something." She quips gently, smiling when Quinn glances up at her to finally lock eyes with pure
hazel.

"Wha-," She spits out a cord of lights and glances at the tree, still needing to be popped up to full height, "Just by two
inches, baby."

"Two inches is enough."

The cock of a left eyebrow has Rachel giggling, "Shut up."

"Do you feel better now?" Quinn has this adorable little pout on her face, eyebrows furrowed together as she examines
Rachel for any outward signs that's she's been injured. "Was your coffee break with Sophia that bad?"

The singer sighs, sitting down beside her girlfriend when there's a pat to the only available free space that isn't littered with
Christmas decorations. "I think it was the lack of what she had to say that really upset me," She rests her head on a strong
shoulder, "She said I was being like the bullies at school that used to pick on me. And that underneath my persona back in
high school, I'm really just a cruel and vindictive bitch."

She feels Quinn's shoulder tense and almost instantly she rests her hand on a bare forearm, stroking the pale skin with
gentle trails up and down. Eventually it soothes the blonde and she feels her melt into the touch. As she continues to talk,
she makes a habit of adding gentle scratches which has her girlfriend almost purring.
"I think she's right."

She feels Quinn's head turn to rest on top of hers, strong jaw digging into soft brown hair. She shuts her eyes, relaxing
herself into the warmth of her girlfriend. She can smell the booze on her shirt, but it's sedated somewhat with the perfume
that she obviously sprayed while she was still asleep. It seems that Q had a great afternoon living it up as a human in the
bar.

"But I don't want to be hated for wanting something. This is New York, you don't just get things handed to you. You have to
fight for what you want." She tilts her head up, bumping Quinn's out of the way before resting her chin on her shoulder,
"Right?"
"Right." Quinn smiles, "But, you really should have done it with a little more tact, don't you think? I mean she wants it just
as badly as you do."
"It's eat or be eaten."

"Maybe you're right," The blonde dots a simple kiss to her forehead and reaches forward to grab another lump of
threaded together lights, "Do you have your Hanukkah things?"

"Box in the closet." She's entirely too comfortable to move, she's flopped over as Quinn moved to rest her head on her lap.
"I'll get them out later."

"Only two days baby, you'll need to hurry up with them."

"I know," She blows out a breath, picking at an un-knotted piece of wire, "Q went to a bar today."

Quinn's hand stop on a particularly hard knot, "Yeah I know." And she says nothing more, because Q said enough when
she walked back in after her afternoon out and Rachel needs nothing more on her plate, "What did you want Q to come
home for?"
"Oh," She blows out another breath, longer this time, "Guess who called me today?"

"Barbra?"
She chuckles when Rachel swipes at her stomach, "Be serious."
She smiles through her frustration with the lights, taking to tugging at them in full force to try and get them to unravel. It only
makes it worse however, so she curses under her breath and starts again. "Your dad?"
"The one I no longer call dad."

"Oh?"
"Hm," She watches as Quinn's tongue peeks out the side of her mouth, a look of pure concentration on her face. "He's
getting married to Michael."
The lights drop with a light thud right in her face.
"Oh shit," She grabs the thread of wires and throws them back into the box, mourning the fact she'll have to start again,
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay baby," Rachel smiles softly, wiping at her face as she sits up. She's about to stand up to move to the couch when
she feels strong arms wrap around her waist. Before she knows it, she's pulled onto Quinn's lap. She wraps her arms
around the blonde's neck and giggles when Quinn nuzzles at her with her nose.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"I don't even know what to say to be honest," She shrugs gently, pulling back ever so slightly to look Quinn in the face, "I
guess a part of me was just overwhelmed. I was fine with the divorce going through, I knew eventually it would happen, but
this kind of feels like he's stabbing me in the back."

"It's always hard when a parent remarries. I mean, obviously I know nothing about it so you really shouldn't listen-,"
"Please." She rests her flat palm on Quinn's chest, "I value your opinion. Sometimes you talk a lot more sense with this
subject compared to me."
"Can I get that in writing?"

She yelps when Rachel nips at the tip of her nose with her teeth.
"Such an ass, Quinn Fabray."

The blonde smirks, leaning in to softly press a kiss to Rachel's rapidly pouting lips. They settle there for a few moments,
getting used to the familiarity of one another's kisses once more. Rachel relaxes into the touch, reveling in the way that
Quinn's tongue brushes and swirls against hers, a much different tact to Q's darting technique.
But all too soon the kiss is gone and Quinn pulls back.

"Honestly, I think it was only a matter of time and either way, you'll need to acknowledge the fact that Leroy loves another
man. I mean, I love Hiram and I'd go to the grave protecting both him and you, but eventually he'll move on too. Will you
hate the man he falls in love with?"
Rachel sighs, "No, of course not, but I think this is more to do with the fact that he's marrying the man that destroyed my
family."
"I'm not condoning it in any way, you know that right?" Rachel nods, "But it's kind of obvious your dad didn't really know
how to deal with his feelings. I mean, it was a shitty way to go about it and he should have just sat down with H, but at
times like those, you really don't know how to think straight."

"I know."
"I still hate Michael for how much his part in all this hurt you, butit's better that he's with Leroy than lying to his wife and
two kids. They'll move on, H will move on, we'll move on. It'll take a while, but we'll get there eventually. Right?"
Rachel tips forward, leaning her forehead against Quinn's. She feels the mint freshness of Quinn's breath every time she
exhales and the slight rocking motion that the blonde has set them on has her eyes shutting ever so slowly, "I'm scared I'll
never let it go."

"You will." Hands brush up and down her back, swirling in soft circular patterns, "Because I know you can."
Rachel smiles, eyelids heavy, breathing evening out, "I love you."

And Quinn smiles right back, "I love you too."

Wow, her fucking back hurts and it's way too bright. She glances around the room and finds herself to be spread eagled
across the living room floor. A piece of Christmas lighting has suctioned itself to her face and my God that sun.

Rachel continues to slumber peacefully atop of her and she doesn't even have the heart to move even though she feels the
bottom of her back spasm. She blows out a breath, sending her bangs drifting up to rest at the top of her head. She's in
desperate need of a shower, she still feels like she has bar grit on her and perhaps it would help her back?

But Rachel
She looks so peaceful.

She glances to her left, the couch is only a few inches from her face, perhaps?
She slowly removes her hand from where it had plastered itself to Rachel's back in the night and slowly extends it out to
the couch and just when she's got a tight enough grip on one of the wooden foots, she steadies herself, sets her jaw and
pulls.
The grunting is inevitable, after all, she may be strong, but she's pulling an additional weight on top of her with only the aid
of one arm. Eventually, without waking Rachel, she gets to the foot of the couch. She drops her arm, takes a few deep
breaths, because Jesus Christ, that was exhausting without a big morning meal in her stomach. Her head pounds a little
too, to which she silently curses Q, who literally just lifts her head a little off her paws at the back of her mind and snorts;
obviously after the fiasco yesterday, the wolf isn't really in a talkative or 'I give a fuck' mood.
"Rach?" She whispers, glancing down at a bunch of brown hair. The girl mumbles slightly, but then her breathing evens out
once more, a gentle snore meeting her trained ears. "OkayI can do this"
Resting both her hands on the singer's waist, she takes two deep breaths, grits her teeth and pushes up. She'd let out a
chuckle if the burn in the arms wasn't almost crippling, mostly because she's holding Rachel out a few inches off of her
body and the girl doesn't even seem to notice.

It takes some manoeuvring on both their parts, but eventually, Rachel is settled on the couch and Quinn's arms drop like
gummy worms back to her side. "Either I'm not training enough or you're-," She stops right there, "Yeah, she'd kill me if I
said that."
Climbing to her feet, she stretches out the kinks in her back with a few stretches and then drifts over toward the bedroom,
the ensuite and a beautifully hot shower in mind.
She's only just turned on the shower when a buzz in her pocket distracts her. "Can't I just have a shower?" She doesn't
even glance down at the screen as she brings it to her ear, "Hello?"

"Quinn?"

Her brows furrow, "Max?"

"Yeah"

She shuffles from one foot to the other, "What's up?"

"Heard you had a run in with my Alpha at Sidebar yesterday."

She rolls her eyes, "Yeah, well, I didn't. Q did."

"Q?" He honestly sounds mystified and she doesn't blame him; she hasn't entirely wrapped her mind around the idea
either.
"I'll tell you another time. What did you need?"

"He's told me to stay away from you. He's also told me to tell you not come back to Brooklyn unless you want his pack
to attack."
She sets her jaw, "I go to school in Brooklyn. I'd avoid it if I could but I need to go there."

"Look, Quinn, he's a powerful man okay? He may not have seemed as much when you saw him but he has one of the
strongest packs in New York. Other Alpha's are terrified of him and they stay the hell away. You coming into his territory
day in and day out has really pissed him off. He let you off the first few months because he thought you didn't know the
tricks of the trade, but now he knows you're going there knowing he's the Alpha."
"For fuck-," She takes one long and controlled breath, resting the bottom of her back against the bathroom countertop,
"Max, I'd avoid it, believe me, but I go to NYU. My building is in Brooklyn, I need to go there."

"I'm telling you this as another wolf Quinn, not just as your friend, okay? We've had some pretty rough times and sure, I
could just turn my back on this, but if you piss William off he will have you killed. You need to stay the hell out of
Brooklyn."
She never really truly realized the extent to which an Alpha would defend it's territory. She never really had the issue in
Lima due to the fact of it being so small, and the Alpha in charge is the one that stood by her and helped her grow and
mature as a wolf. She hadn't really thought about meeting a violent wolf; she should have seen it coming, after all, a wolf
isn't usually known for their gentile manner towards other wolf packs.

"I can't stay away. I need to go to school."

"Quinn" Max sighs, annoyed and disheartened, "Fuck, Quinn, I can't stop him. I'm the lowest on the food chain
compared to him. I can't exactly go up to him and tell him to re-think his decision. He'll think I'm deserting to go into
your pack."
"Then let me speak with him. Tell him I need to speak with him again."
"You spoke with him once, that's all he allows."

She hisses out a breath, fucking Q, why did Q have to be in control of her body when she met one of the strongest wolves
in New York City?
"For fuck sake."

"I know it sucks andeventually we knew he'd find out. We shouldn't really speak anymore. I have enough attention on
me as it is, I can't really-,"
He drifts off with a quiet sigh, and Quinn tries to say something, but words just completely allude her. So she offers an
almost silent thanks and just hangs up.

She leaves her head bowed in the shower, almost as if she's trying to hide away from what's going on around her. The
water scalds her back and shoulders, but she barely feels it. Her whole body feels almost numb and she knows she's
been staring at the plughole for the past twenty minutes but she can't really bring herself to tear her eyes away. The water
drips endlessly down the plug and somehow she wishes her problems would just drift right down that hole never to be
seen again.
"What am I going to do?" She asks herself quietly, eyes blinking slowly. She pulls her arms up to rest at the tiles before
her, holding her body up with only her arms. The spray directs itself down her back and she groans as the water almost
massages her aching back muscles. One problem solved, how about the other twenty that are piling up?

Will she have a school to go back to once the Christmas break is over?
Will she have a best friend that she can depend on?

Will Rachel understand?

Will the Brooklyn Alpha get off her back if she chooses never to go back?

Would she be killed if she did?

The questions pile up endlessly and she can't bring herself to answer any of them. In only one phone call she's lost a
prized college, her best friend and maybe her future. The only steady thing by her side is Rachel and while it did hold
some comfort, it really didn't hold a candle to everything else she had lost.

What was she without her education? Her friends? The knowledge that she was going to be stapled to Manhattan with no
choice of movement?

It was like being stuck in a fucking glass box. She felt like some sideshow attraction. Come see the magnificent wolf in all
her glory. Watch her as she cowers in a corner and takes defeat on the chin like a worthless little Alpha.

She groans, feeling the hot sting of tears hit her eyes. She won't cry. She won't fucking cry.
"Hey,"

And she cries.

"Baby" Arms wrap around her from behind, cradling her shaking body, "Oh God baby, come here." And she turns and
just buries her head in rapidly soaking hair as she sobs.

Sometimes it feels good to just cry.

Rachel wraps her in a towel and takes her to the bedroom. She's working on automatic, she can barely hear her
girlfriend's voice over the roar in her ears, and it's only when she's being laying on the bed for an undetermined amount of
time does the singer comes back with a steaming mug of tea.
"It has honey in it. I thought it would help your throat because of" She trails off, shakes her head to herself and rests the
mug on the bedside table before taking a seat beside the stoic blonde. "Do you want to talk about it?"
It takes a while, but after she's cleared her throat of the block that's suddenly got there, she answers, "Can't we talk about
your problems?"
Rachel smiles softly, sadly, and brushes her hand through soaked blonde locks, "Baby, my problems with Michael and
Leroy and Sophia are kind of insignificant to this, don't you think? I've barely ever seen you break down like that." Her
hand stops, but only for a moment before it continues in it's movements, "Honestly, I don't think I've ever seen you break
down that much before."
"I don't want to talk about it."
"It's better to get it out." A fingertip trails down the length of Quinn's face, brushing against her earlobe, dancing down
across her jaw until finally it presses against a quivering bottom lip, "Let it out."

And she just starts crying again.

Half an hour later, she's all cried out and drunk almost all of the tea. It's almost stone cold, but she can't bring herself to
care. The honey does help soothe her hoarse throat and she almost asks for some more, but from the look on Rachel's
face, she knows she's going to have to talk sooner or later.

She drops the mug back on the bedside table and sits up, manoeuvring a pillow behind her back so she can rest back
comfortably. "The Alpha I spoke about yesterday? I meanQ spoke about?"

Rachel nods, obviously intrigued, she even shuffles forward slightly on the bed, "She mentioned it before-," She trails off
and nods again, "Yes. What about it?"

"He's uh," Why does she feel like crying again, "God dammit."
"What?" The singer asks, eyes wide with worry.

"Feel like crying again," She laughs out sadly, "Uhwell, Q spoke to him in the bar yesterday. He seemed okay I guess,
but he got relativelybrutal as the conversation wore on."

"What did he say exactly?"

So she tells her girlfriend everything that had transpired between the two Alpha's. She speaks of everything he said, the
way that Rick always seemed to stare down at her, the way the Alpha warned her off of Brooklyn and
"But that was yesterday. You were fine yesterday. Why are you breaking down now?"

"I got a call."

"From him?"

"From Max."
This seems to settle Rachel somewhat, but only a little, "What did he have to say for himself?"

"Obviously word got to him about the conversation. The Alpha told me to leave Max alone and with the way he was talking
on the phone, it was obvious he was being watched or something. They're worried he'll defect to my pack or something.
He said I shouldn't come back to Brooklyn otherwise I'd be killed and then added on that I shouldn't speak to him anymore
otherwise it wouldn't be good for either one of us."

"Just like that?" Rachel clicks her tongue, "He just ended a friendship like that?"
"It's obvious he's still pissed with me, Rach."

"What a" She scoffs, "What a bastard!"

Quinn actually laughs at that, "Babyhe's looking out for both of us. He's protecting his own back and mine in the
process. It might hurt, but he's doing it as a good thing."
"But he ended it so easily"

"I almost killed him as easily."

She nods gently, looking down to the bed spread between them, "Fair point."

Quinn slams her head back into the pillow, eyes squeezing shut, "I just wish this was a dream. Part of me thinks it is but I
know I won't be that lucky."

"What about school?" Rachel asks, almost out of the blue to break the silence that stretches between them.
"Guess I need to leave."
"Quinn-,"

"Rachel, I can't do anything else. Would you rather I go to school and be killed?"
"I-," She sighs, defeated, "Why do things have to be so difficult?"

"Being a wolf isn't a fairytale. I'm pretty much the Big Bad Wolf right now."
Rachel lays down beside her, resting her head on Quinn's chest. She wraps her arms so tightly around the blonde's body
that it's hard to breathe, but she melts into the touch, feeling secure in her mate's arms. Her wolf is oddly silent, quiet,
unable to even make it's opinion known. It feels like purgatory.
"You'll never be the Big Bad Wolf in my eyes, Quinn."

They don't make it out of the bedroom until going on two in the afternoon. They both found it difficult to sleep, but the
thought of moving was too much to bare. Rachel hates just letting the day drift away when she could be putting up those
Hannukah decorations that Quinn spoke about, but she doesn't really want to be too far away from her girlfriend, even if it
is only a room away.

They sit down to lunch, although neither of them is particularly hungry. Rachel eats two slices of toast, Quinn a BLT, but
leaves half of it. The singer knows how much this has impacted Quinn; her future has been practically ripped away from
her without any control over it.
"Do you want to talk some more?" Rachel asks around her glass of orange juice.

Quinn chews daintly at some lettuce, "Not really. There's nothing much to speak about anymore is there?"
"You could speak to the Alpha" She pauses, brows furrowed, "What was his name again?"

"William. I don't have a last name."

"Well maybe you could speak to him, get him to reconsider? Maybe you could sit down with him and settle out a route of
where you need to go in Brooklyn. Obviously, it'll only be the campus at NYU."
"I'd try but-,"

"But nothing, Quinn. You can't sit down and take this, it'll consume both you and Q. You're an Alpha and I know you don't
really want to admit it, but taking this is actually wounding your pride. You need your pride as a wolf or you'll never be able
to look yourself in the eye again. I know how bad it can get with you."
Quinn blows out a breath, glancing across the room to set eyes on the TV. It's off, as per usual; it's barely ever on. She
can't remember the last time she actually sat down and watched a show all the way through without having to get up and
do something else.

"I hate that you know me so well, sometimes."

"I'm your mate," Rachel replies softly, almost cockily, "I make it my job to know these things."

Hazel eyes snap back to dark chocolate brown, "I really do love you."
And Rachel just melts, "And I love you tooyou giant pain in my rather spectacular backside."

"Wow. Could you be anymore vain?"

She smirks, "I could try. I am Rachel Berry after all."

"I say we go out." She's just finished putting the menorah on the coffee table, centring it ever so perfectly. "Being stuck
inside all day isn't doing us any good and-," She stops, staring at the tree, "Wherehave you been eaten by the tree?"

"I'm behind it."

Rachel brings her fingers to her lips, stifling off a giggle, "And why are you behind it?"

"I couldn't get the lights behind it."

"Baby, who is going to see the lights behind the tree?"

Silence.
"God damn on a donut."
Rachel giggles, "Try and get back out and get dressed, we're going out."

She hears a sigh and then the tree shuffle ever so slightly as a blonde head pops out from behind it. It takes a while, but
eventually the beautiful blonde manoeuvres her way around it, barely avoiding tripping over a stray string of lights.

"I don't really feel like going out, baby."

"You'll feel better once you go out," Rachel smiles, resting her hands on Quinn's hips, "We'll go out for a walk." Quinn
groans at that, "Okay, just a walk around the blockor we could go get something to eat at one of those," She cringes,
"Greasy diners you like."

The blonde seems to brighten at that, ever so slightly, her hazel eyes widen, "Seriously?"
She knows she'll regret it but, "Yes."

Quinn is rushing past her and into the bedroom before she even has the chance to hiss out the s.

She feels like some sort of marshmallow. Quinn wouldn't let her out of the door without a beanie hat, scarf, gloves,
Wellington boots and a thick winter coat. She feels like a complete moron because yes, it is cold, brutally so, but at least
she could be a little more sedate about it. Thanks to Quinn and her hot bloodied nature, she only needs a winter coat and
gloves. So compared to her incredibly beautiful girlfriend, she feels like an elephant or something.
"I feel ridiculous," She hisses as they reach a street crossing. No one pays them no mind, but she can't help but feel their
eyes on her. She really does look like a blimp.
"Baby, you look incredibly adorable," Quinn leans down, dots a kiss to her nose and smiles, "And I love you."

"I love you too," She grumbles, "Sometimes."

"The lady doth protest too much."

"I'm not protesting, I'm stating."

"State away."

Rachel wants to grumble, but she can't help but smile as Quinn firmly takes her hand in hers as they cross the road. She
seems to have cheered somewhat and she's glad that she told Quinn to let it all out. Of course, nothing has been solved,
but the fact that the blonde isn't acting robotically is a good thing, right? The world doesn't seem to be caving in around her
anymore; there seems to be a cloud with a silver lining somewhere.

"Are you sure you don't mind going to a diner with me?"
"I'll drink horrible coffee while you eat a disgustingly greasy but heart-warming dinner. No, I don't mind."

Quinn glances at her quickly before her eyes slam forward once more, a small smile on her lips.
She's lucky to have this woman.

"Howare you even-," Rachel swallows, "How are you even alive after eating this?"
She's halfway through scooping up a mixture of scrambled eggs and bacon onto her fork when the question comes. "High
energy food keeps both myself and Q happy."
Q actually yaps at that and Quinn smirks.

"More like gives you both heart disease."

"Baby, you promised you wouldn't complain."

"I said no such thing, Quinn Fabray. I said I'd sit here and drink disgusting coffee while you eat your meal. I said nothing
about not complaining."

"And you call me a pain in the ass."

"I know," And she says nothing more, but there's mirth in her eyes as she drinks the diner coffee. It takes likewell, like
shitbut she's willing to endure to see that smile on Quinn's face as they banter. It seems like so long ago that they
actually sat down like this and justhad funand to say that Quinn practically had her friend and education ripped from
her that very same morning, right now, you wouldn't even be able to tell.
"Are you happy?" Rachel asks, tipping her mug up to take another sip.
Quinn pulls the fork from her mouth, chews for a few moments, swallows and then shrugs her shoulders, "Right here, right
now? I'm beyond happy. I don't really want to think about tomorrow or the day after right now."
"Will you speak to William again?"

"I dunno," She takes the next few minutes meticulously cutting up her bacon and putting them in little stacks for her to eat
when she's finished her hash browns, "Max told me he only speaks once and makes his decision. I don't really want to try
my luck, honestly."
Q growls dangerously in the back of her mind and she fights off a sigh. Her wolf's pride shines through and sure, it hurts
her to sort of admit defeat, but what else can she do? William is the strongest Alpha in New York City. He has a full
strength pack behind him and what does she have? Herself? She can't really protect herself from a full fledged attack
when she has Rachel beside her. My God, she couldn't deal with that.

"I'll try, okay? I'll ask and I'll see. If not, I'll justgo to a college in Manhattan. The Alpha here doesn't mind me as long as I
don't kick up a fuss."

"More coffee, honey?"

Rachel glances up at the waitress by her side, holding a glass jug filled with lukewarm coffee. She takes one look at the
almost black coffee and shakes her head; the last cup felt like sludge running down her throat. She'd rather keep her vocal
cords, thank you very much.

The waitress disappears as fast as she appeared and Rachel turns her attention back to Quinn who has taken to making
a little bacon castle on her plate. She smiles at the charming naivety; it's almost childish. She loves this part of Quinn, this
childish side that if anyone saw, would melt into a puddle.

"I'll leave this decision up to you." She wants to help. "You know how this works better than me." She needs to help her
girlfriend. "I'll leave it up to you."
Quinn looks up and smiles, "Thank you baby. I'll try and talk to him again, but honestly, I won't hold my breath."

And all Rachel can do is sit there, watching as Quinn finishes her meal, pondering how the hell Quinn can achieve anything
when she's been practically locked to Manhattan with no route of escape.

"We should talk about your problems now." Quinn comments as they walk out of the diner. She holds the door open like a
complete gentlewoman, and it's funny, how at such a regular gesture, Rachel feels like swooning. She smiles as she
passes by her girlfriend and waits until Quinn's hand is free for her to take.

"I think your problems are a little bigger than mine right now."

Quinn doesn't even try to dispute that, "Possibly, but, your problems deserved to be talked about just as much as mine.
We're equals in this relationship, Rach. Just because I am who I am doesn't mean I'm on a higher level than you or
something."
Okay, now she wants to swoon.

"Why are you so romantic today?"

Quinn chuckles, and almost mesmerized, Rachel watches as the puff of breath melts into the cold New York City air, "I
guess it's because it's so close to Christmas. It really hadn't sunk in because of everything that's been going on. But it's my
favorite holiday and, y'know, you should be happy at Christmas."

Now she will swoon.

She leans up on her tip toes to press a soft kiss to Quinn's warm lips, "You adorable holiday geek."

Quinn smirks cheekily, pulling Rachel gently as they start back down the street, "So. Problems. Go."
"Where should I start?"

"Wherever you want to start."

She opens her mouth to voice an issue, but finds herself groaning instead, "I don't wanna."

Quinn chuckles, pulling her hand free to wrap her arm around the singer's waist. She pulls her close and almost instantly,
Rachel feels the heat radiate up her side. She almost clings as they walk and sure, it's a little awkward, but she can't bring
herself to care.
"I guess I should talk about Sophia, huh?"

"Hm-hm."
"I don't even know where to start." She groans, "The look on her face, Quinn, you don't even realize."

"So she was angry?"

"Between enraged and chanelling the devil, I'd say."

"Ah." Quinn nods softly, turning a corner, pulling Rachel along with her, who is only happy to stay clung to her side, "So
what did she say after she said you were actually a bitch?"
She winces at that, "She said we were alike. That back in school, we were no doubt almost identical. She thought she
could have been my friend butapparently not."

"Like you said baby, it's a dog eat dog world. You need to take what you want otherwise you won't get it. Do you think that
half of the millionaires that live in this city got where they wanted by being nice?"

"No"
"Exactly. There will be more Sophia's and unfortunately, you'll be in her position one day as well. You're in a very
competitive business - you need to take it on the chin."
Rachel turns her head to bury it in the soft wool of Quinn's coat, "I hate how you're right."

"Alright," Quinn laughs, "That's one problem off the list. Hit me with another."
The singer laughs and sniffs, feeling the bite of cold hit her nose when she turns her head to look back down the street, "I
suppose Leroy and Michael should be spoken about at one time or another."
Quinn groans, "Do we have to?"

"Hey!" She slaps Quinn playfully on the stomach, "My problems need to be spoken about too."
And Quinn nods with a smile, "Of course. Go ahead."

"Now I don't even know where to start."

"When did you find out? I mean, I know it was yesterday, but when did he call you?"

"I was on the subway coming home from coffee with Sophia." She hears Quinn hiss, "Yes, great timing, I know."
"What did he say?"

She sighs, "I barely remember." She takes a few moments to place herself back in that subway. The conversation itself
reminds her of white noise; she remembers his voice but she can't exactly place the words he'd used. She remembers the
way his tone of voice reminded her of how nervous he had been, but also excited to tell her about the news. He'd stumbled
over his words, told her not to get upset. "I just remember him telling me not to be upset and that if I knew that the divorce
was final. Then he unleashed the bombshell on me."
"He brings up the divorce and then the proposal?" Rachel registers the way Quinn's arm wraps tighter around her, almost
trying to give her an increased form of comfort. She melts into the gesture, "I'm sorry but" She scoffs, "What a complete
asshole."

"Hm. Good ol' Leroy." She says it so completely deadpan that even Quinn has a little bit of a chuckle at it, "Bring up my
dad before you tell me you're marrying the man I despise, way to go."

"You don't really despise him, baby"

Rachel stops at that, right in the middle of the street. She pulls away from Quinn and looks up at her, "Seriously?"

"What?" Hazel eyes flick across her face, taking her in, "Did I say something wrong?"

"You wanted him dead, just like I did."

"No" She shakes her head softly, retaking Quinn's hand, "It's nothing. What makes you say I don't hate him?"
Quinn seems a bit wary as she starts down the street again, her hand swinging between herself and Rachel's body, "You
can't really hate a man for loving, can you?"
"He destroyed my family."

"Not just him though. Leroy did it too. Michael was hurt enough, don't you think?"
Rachel nips at her bottom lip, wondering if she should bring up the attack. It's always been a sore spot between them and
she doesn't really want to destroy the jovial mood between them both.
"From medoing that to him and losing his wife and, y'know, his kids. He's been hurt enough. H is getting over it and
eventually he'll move on too. Would you be angry if your dad found someone else to be with?"

"Well no, but-,"

"Then why should you hate Leroy and Michael for it?"

"Because my dad had the decency to do it when he found himself divorced and single."
There's no reply for a beat and then, "Ah. Fair point."
"Uh-huh."

"I guess it's always gonna be a sore spot for you, Rach. Someday you'll come to terms with it and I'm sure Leroy will be
there waiting for you to forgive him."

"Fat chance."
"Rachel Berry."

The singer rolls her eyes, "Sorry"

"C'mon," Rachel smiles softly at the kiss that's pressed to her forehead, "Let's get home. I've eaten and I fancy a little
something something to warm us both back up again."
The brunette can't help but smirk when she feels a gloved hand sneak up from her hand and up her wrist.

"Happy Hanukkah to me."

"Christmukkah."
She chuckles, "Yes. Christmukkah."

The hot kisses to the back of her neck have her moaning already and they're only in the elevator. Her hand aches to reach
out and hit the emergency stop button, but she's seen way too many movies where people get stuck in lifts and, more
often than not, die when the lift comes to a grinding halt at the bottom of the shaft after careening down a few dozen floors.

They're only five floors up, but that's not the point.
"Oh God, can't this elevator go any faster?" She groans, feeling Quinn's hands slide up the front of her shirt. Her coat has
long since been unbuttoned and all that separates her from bearing her chest is a few straining buttons on her blouse.
There's something mumbled into the back of her neck and she chokes out a laugh at the noise, but then there's a finger
pinching at her nipple and it just comes out as an almighty groan as the doors slide open.
Quinn pushes her forward and together they giggle, almost falling over each other's feet as they rush toward their
apartment door.
But then Rachel's stopping and Quinn almost collapsing into her back, "What's wrong?" She glances over Rachel's
shoulder and lets out an almighty breath.
Max sits there, back to the apartment door, knees up to his chest. He almost looks like a child. Rachel glances over her
shoulder and that lust that was hidden in her eyes has now gone to only be replaced by a little beam of hope.
"Fuck William." Quinn hears as she tears her eyes away from Rachel's. Max is climbing to his feet, dusting off his skinny
jeans, "You're my friend and I'm gonna stand by you no matter what."
Then with a little shy half smile, he adds, "If you'll have me."
*Chapter 17*: Pack Problems
First of all, I must apologize for the wait. This chapter gave me a lot of issues and at times I just stared at the page and just
walked away because it annoyed me that much. But here it is (better later than never, right?) so I hope you enjoy and I look
forward to your feedback.

She's been in some uncomfortable situations, for example; telling Sophia exactly what she did to take her roll, sitting down
to coffee with Leroy as he tried to act like nothing was wrong, sitting down to dinner with both Leroy and Michael and
trying to make happy families. But this was just stifling.
She thought she'd be safe in the comfort of her small but cosy kitchen, but she can feel the tension melt into her even
though her back is to the two people currently not talking in her living room.

Max had been invited in, after all she does have manners, and Quinn hadn't said a word. They'd settled down together in
the living room for ten minutes in silence before it got too much for her and she had to leave and do something. So here
she is, making two coffee's for the old best friends.

She kills about five minutes grabbing two cups and washing them, even though they're clean, and then drying them.
Another two are spent dispensing almost perfect and equal amounts of sugar and creamer. But now the pot has brewed
and she has no choice but to just get on with it and get her ass back into the living room to do some damage control.
They have to speak sooner or later.

Two cups are settled on the coffee table. Max offers a quiet thank you as she sits down, and Quinn actually tears her eyes
away to look at Rachel and smile softly at her. The smile is gentile and caring, but she can't help but see the swirl of
disappointment and betrayal in her eyes, clouding the brilliant hazel.
All three are quiet for another few minutes, just the gentle hum of the radiators and the nonsensical musings of the news
anchor on TV echoing around them. Quinn actually leans back at one point, coffee mug in hand, to watch the news and
Rachel tries not to open her mouth and chastise her for not speaking to their guest, but this is a wolf thing, a friendship
thing; it's something she's not privy to.
So she keeps her mouth shut.

She lasts three minutes until she just has to say something.

"Will you please talk to one another?" Her eyes cut immediately to Quinn, because one look at Max tells her that he's
desperate to talk. "Quinn." Hazel eyes cut to her, "Max came to you with a proposition, will you please talk to him about it
before I bash both of your heads together?"

Max chuckles, "Uh, Rach, we are talking."

Her eyebrow flicks up, and it's enough to rival Quinn's, "It's obvious you're not. I don't hear anything and-," She pauses,
thinks on it for a moment and at Quinn's obvious amusement, leans back on the couch and mumbles under her breath,
"Continue."

She'll bash our heads together, huh? Your girl has balls.
I can, safely say, she does not.
Max barks out a laugh and immediately tries to cover it up by taking a large slurp of his coffee when Rachel's eyes cut to
him.

She's giving me death eyes.

She may be human, but she can certainly give you a run for your money in the fear department.
Tell me about it.
Another minute ticks by, slow and monotonous, and the three of them never move. All three keep their eyes on the TV,
unwilling to look at one another. They may be speaking, and cracking a few jokes here and there, but it still doesn't hide
the fact that Quinn felt betrayed.
When she'd met Max, she'd felt a connection with him. At first, she feared it, unwilling to let anyone else come into her
circle; it was tight, confined and she liked to have control over everyone and everything in it. But then came Max, with his
free spirit and jovial banter, who could drink anyone under the table and almost keep up with her in the amount of nachos
they ate at Sidebar. It terrified her at first, because he felt so foreign, but ever so slowly, she let him in. They hung out more
often, they spoke to one another about their problems, they even stayed up at all hours of the night hunting together. She
shared her hunting techniques, he shared his knowledge of all the boroughs and their Alpha's territories.
Separately, they could take care of themselves, but together, they created a duo full to the brim of power and knowledge.
They were the best of friends, but one phone call destroyed all that. She should have expected it, after all, she did try to rip
out his throat in the back office of his work place. But the call that she'd received from him just ripped her heart out. No
doubt he felt the same way when she attacked.

You couldn't tell me in person?

She hears Max hold his breath for just a few moments, obviously contemplating the question. She hazards a quick glance
at Rachel, who has taken to glancing from the TV, down to her nails and then back up again. Her girlfriend is obviously
bored, and she can't help but feel sorry for her; she was blue balled quite a bit.

He was watching me. He's paranoid that he's losing pack members and that only intensified when he learnt I was
friends with another Alpha. I'm taking a big chance by being here, Quinn. I wouldn't have done this if I didn't mean that I
want to be on your side.
I don't even have my own pack, Max. If he came after us, we'd be like lambs to the slaughter. I may be an Alpha, but I'm
not strong enough to take on William and his Brooklyn pack.
I knowI know.
Quinn actually sighs out loud and Rachel snaps, "Would you please talk out loud? I know this is werewolf business but I
am Quinn's mate and I would rather much like to be kept in the loop."
Max only glances at Quinn before his eyes slide to her girlfriend. She isn't annoyed, per say, she just seems to be put out.
And she is right, as Quinn's mate, she does have the right to know. But it's not for him to acknowledge; Rachel's is Quinn's
mate, not his.

"He wants to be on my side," Quinn adds helpfully, albeit flatly, "But I have the issue of William coming after us both."
"Don't-," The singer gnaws at her bottom lip, "I mean, would you be able to take him on?"

Quinn shakes her head, "I may be strong, but the power I felt coming off of him even had Q terrified. I don't want to mess
with him. And if he has his pack with him, we're completely screwed."

"When do you get a pack?"

Max chokes on his coffee, "Get?"

Rachel nods, "I assumed that when you got to a certain age you got a pack of your own."
Quinn smiles, leaning to press a gentle kiss to Rachel's temple, "It doesn't work like that. A pack is your family, made up of
wolves that are either friends or blood relations. I don't just magically get one when I turn 21."
"Oh."

"I'll happily be in your pack, Quinn, but I'll need protection."

The blonde rolls her eyes, "And how am I suppose to protect you when I'm protecting both myself and Rachel?" She
watches Max shrug, eyes wide and child like, "I'd be happy to protect you, but I'm not even at full power yet. Against
William and his pack, I'm screwed."

"What about your dad?" Quinn's eyes cut to her mate, "And your mom, your sister, her husband, perhaps Alfred?"
"What about them?"

"A pack." Rachel's enthusiasm has her giggling. The singer bounces on the couch, turning so she's sitting crossed
legged, facing Quinn and Max on the one seater, "Get them to make up your pack. Your dad is strong and although Alfred
is old, he's still got cunning."
"Baby," At Quinn's tone, she pouts; wrong yet again. "It's sweet of you, but that's not how it works. Alfred has his own pack
and my parents are a part of that. Two packs can't conjoin, it's just not proper."
"Proper?" Rachel responds flatly, "And where is this written? Werewolf Etiquette 101?"
Max snorts, "It's been like that for as long as I remember. My dad, my grandpop and even his dad have said the same
thing."

"Well why don't you change it?" Rachel asks, not really seeing the point, "Have the pack in Lima join yours."
"It's not that simple," Quinn shakes her head, "For one, how would they get here when I need them? They may be wolves,
but it's not like they can teleport to me."
"Ah" Rachel slumps in her seat, enthusiasm all but worn off, "I see your point."
"It all comes down to power," Max adds, "I know it's a huge deal, but I refuse to turn my back on you. William is a prick and
I don't want to be part of a pack that holds itself in high regard by using scare tactics and violence. We might be wolves,
but we're not killing machines."
Quinn sees Rachel nod in her peripheral vision and she lets out a sigh, "Don't take this like I'm turning my back on you, but
I need to put Rachel and myself first. I can't have you in my pack if it's going to bring a territorial war to my doorstep."
"Sothat's a no."

She shrugs her shoulders, deflated and exhausted, horrified that she's done the exact same thing he did only that morning.
She feels as though she's back stabbed him as he nods his head, floppy black hair brushing over his eyes. He sits there
for a moment, eyes locked to wooden floors before he brings his mug up to his lips and drinks the rest of the warm brew.
"I understand," He gets up, grabs his jacket from the back of his seat and slips it on, fingers fumbling almost shakily as he
pulls up the zip, "I uhjust keep the idea in mind, eh?"
"I will."

She's about to stand up and walk him to the door, but she feels Rachel's fingertips brush the back of her hand, a small
comforting gesture as the singer stands from her seat. It's almost as if Rachel knows that she can't get up, that she can't
look him in the eye again and watch him walk out the door. So she does it for her. She walks him to the door, smiles softly
at him, a silent apology, and hugs him tightly. He doesn't return the hug, but smiles none the less and offers a quiet
goodbye before walking out the door.

"Are you sure you made the right choice?" Rachel asks, sat on the edge of the bed as she watches her girlfriend shut the
bedroom door.
"You think I didn't?"

"I think you did, I'm just wondering if you think you did." She smiles softly, standing from the bed and coming to a stop in
front of Quinn's stoic form, "You're thinking too hard on this. You had to protect us both and once William found out that
Max had defected, he would have come after youand me."
Her hand lifts, fingertips brushing the soft skin at Quinn's jaw. Her eyes watch the movement of her hand as it trails down,
before stopping to pinch her chin softly between a thumb and finger.
"I'm proud of you for making that decision. Most people would say yes to that sort of proposition, but you put us first, you
put our future first."
Quinn smiles, taking Rachel's hand in hers, brushing her lips against her knuckles, "You're proud of me?"

"More than you know."

And that's all she needs to know to lock the old age question away; did she make the right decision or not? She put her
future first, she put the safety of Rachel and herself first. It may have hurt to turn her back on such a true friend but the
consequences outweighed the positives. To know that Rachel is proud of her makes it all worth it.

"You mean the world to me, you know?" Rachel's eyes mist over almost instantly as Quinn takes a step forward, hip to hip,
chest to chest; they can almost feel the thumping of each of their heartbeats echoing in tandem, a love song that only
they're privy to. "I never tell you enough and I know we've been through some hard times recently with me getting to grips
with all this power and Q butthank you, for standing by me when I needed you the most."

"I'd never walk away," Rachel whispers, voice choked, "You know that."
"I know." She smiles, leaning down to bump her forehead ever so softly against Rachel's. She smells the coffee on Rachel
breath as she quietly exhales, she smells the strawberry hint of her shampoo, she smells the pheromone that Rachel was
born with; the one that led her to her that night at the park. "But I just want to thank you. It means to me more than you know.
Anyone else would have run a mile, but you stood by me and I love you even more for that."
"I love you too"

They kiss, softly, lips slanting together almost perfectly as they always have done. Quinn holds her girl close, arms
wrapped around her waist, trapping the smaller girl against her body. The gentle hum of pleasure that Rachel breathes
into her mouth has their tongues brushing softly together. She tastes the bitter coffee, she tastes the sweet taste that is
Rachel and she's so overwhelmed because she's never felt this close to her before.

Not in the park. Not as they held one another as they re-kindled their broken relationship after Michael's attack. Not as
they first made love. Not as they held one another's hands as they drove toward their future in New York.

This is something special; something she never expected in her life. She always dreamed herself to be a lone wolf as she
grew up. The fat chubby kid in middle school was always the one to be laughed at, the one that was told she would never
amount to anything, the one that had no friends and stood at the edge of the playground as she watched others play.
But she has her. She has Rachel and that's all she ever needs. Everything what was shit about her life doesn't matter
anymore because now, in this moment, she knows that Rachel is the one that she was waiting for. Her father always told
her that you always had to wait for the best things in life. Rachel Berry and that chance meeting in the halls of McKinley on
their first day was testament.
She assumed it would be fireworks and explosions as she landed eyes on Rachel for the first time, but nothing could be
further from the truth. In her years of growing up and bitterness of being teased and picked on, she'd come to McKinley to
start a new life for herself as Quinn Fabray. She picked on the weak, the one that had no friends, and that was Rachel.

She broke Rachel down just as the kids had done at her old school. She broke her down until she felt good about herself.
She broke her down because she wanted to know what it was like to be on the other side of that feeling; she wanted to
know what was so good about being the one that crushed people's hopes and wants and dreams.
It hurt her more than it hurt Rachel. That much she was sure about. So she pulled herself away; the name calling gradually
stopped, the threats of violence ceased to exist, the hateful and scornful looks in the hallway became soft fragile little looks
that only belonged between them.

She smiled whenever Rachel said something particularly funny in class, she listened to what she had to say in Glee, she
pushed her to go for the dreams that were so cruelly taken away from her in middle school. And Rachel pushed straight
back and told her she was so much more than a pretty face, told her that she was better than what she truly knew.
They balanced one another, they helped one another. They were Quinn and Rachel. They belonged together, and not just
because of a bond that they'd created through her hidden life as a wolf, but because they were two girls that fell in love in
one of the most emotionally difficult times in a teenagers life.

To anyone else, she'd feel half human and half wolf. But with Rachel she feels all human; the little girl that grew up to be
someone kind and caring, that would stand by you and protect you. She's just a woman.

"You're crying." Rachel whispers softly, pulling away from Quinn's kiss swollen lips when she feels soft trails of tears run
down her down cheeks. "Why are you crying?" She asks, just as soft as before, bringing her hands up to wipe those tears
away with her thumbs.
But Quinn stops her, hands wrapping around her wrists, "Nokeep them there."

The singer tilts her head ever so slightly to the left, "Why?"
"Because I'm happy. Because you see me how I want to be seen."

"How-What do you mean?"

"Tell me" She bumps her nose softly against Rachel's, "How do you see me?"

"I" She smiles, brushing her nose back against Quinn's eyes shutting softly as they softly sway; it's such a tiny
movement, but she feels the gentle sway from side the side, the way Quinn's arms keep her locked and safe inside their
strong hold. "I see you as the girl that holds my heart. Isee you as the girl that made me who I am today."
She pulls back slightly, watching those tears continue to trek down Quinn's cheeks, "If it wasn't for you I'd have stayed in
Lima with my dad because I was so afraid of leaving him alone. You showed me what it is to be strong and to go for my
dreams. You showed me that no matter what the world throws at you, you can always come out at the other end stronger
and wiser. You're the girl - the woman - I adore and love."

"And that's why I'm crying."

"I still- I don't understand, Quinn."

"You don't see me as some half breed human. You see me as any other normal person."

"Baby, that's all I see you as." Arms wrap around Quinn's neck and pull her down, lips brushing against lips, soft and
fleeting, "You're a wolf, and I do love that side of you, but I fell in love with you because of you, not some biological feat
passed down in your family."
Quinn presses a kiss to Rachel's lips, "I love you so much."
And Rachel whispers back, just as softly, "I love you too." They kiss once more, wrapped in the safety of one another's
arms. The problems that have plagued them since they had come to New York seem to melt away with each individual
caress of their lips.

Seconds and minutes melt together, soft moans and the pitter patter of hailstones against the window echo in the content
quietness of the lovers bedroom. They hadn't even planned this; for it to be this romantic. People usually break their own
backs trying to make something this romantic, but with Quinn and Rachel, it seems almost effortless.
Quinn pulls away first, licking her kiss swollen lips, and then she's turning Rachel around, fingertips gracefully brushing
against the inch of skin that shows between the hem of her shirt and jeans. And then she pulls, gently pulling the singer
back against her chest. She buries her nose in brown curls, content to envelope herself in the smell of her mate.
"Quinn" Rachel finally whimpers, feeling the blonde's fingertips brush against the waistband of her jeans. Such a gentle
touch feels almost electric, so much so that she can feel the goosebumps raise up from her skin. She never knows what
touch will come next, or where those hands will wander to, and it primes her body, half tensed with pleasurable excitement,
and half relaxed, melting back into Quinn's warm bloodied body.
The button to her jeans is popped with ease and she feels herself hiss when those almost scorching hot fingertips travel
down and breach the waistband of her underwear. The fingers brush through wiry wet curls and she instinctively pushes
her hips forward, trying to feel those fingers just that little bit more. The touch is almost vacant, she barely feels it as they
slide downward toward their goal.
"You really have no idea how much you mean to me," She hears whispered in her ear, low and full of uninhibited emotion,
"You're everything to me, Rachel." And those fingers are there, brushing over her aching clit and she holds her breath,
steadying herself, readying herself.

Even though she prepares herself, the touches still come when she least expects it. Her body is so charged, so pent up,
that she prepares herself too much for Quinn to rub furiously at her clit, but what happens, is the exact opposite. The pad
of Quinn's finger skims over the sensitive bud, softly, gently and her hips jolt. Her legs feel like jelly all of a sudden and all
she can do is raise her arms up and grip the back of Quinn's hair, steadying herself against the blonde's body.

Quinn's chin is still dipped on her shoulder, looking down at her hand, glancing up at the face that shows such beauty, and
then back down again. "I can't remember the last time we spent a day without a worry; we always seem to have something
new to worry about every day." She turns her head, brushing her lips against the shell of Rachel's ear, "And it's my fault, I
know it is." She presses a kiss to the shell before flicking her tongue against the warm lobe, "But from now on, it's just you
and me. This is our story, no one else's."
Rachel smiles softly, glancing over her shoulder, forehead pressed to Quinn's. "Really?" And Quinn's eyes, hazel as ever
glint with unshed tears as she nods softly, keeping that all important contact as she leans in and settles a kiss on Rachel's
lips.

"Really."
And then Rachel gasps, eyes glazing over as Quinn's finger sweeps over her clit in small circular motions that drive her
crazy. Her hands clench around Quinn's hair, keeping her in place as she hurriedly presses her lips against Quinn's,
moaning and gasping into an open mouth as that finger moves faster against her.

Her hips move up and grind against the finger in time with each motion, moving away for only a fraction of a second
before moving up to meet that wandering finger once more. She's soaked, she can feel it, it's evident in the way that her
girlfriend's finger sweeps so effortlessly over her aching clit.
"So good" She pants into Quinn's mouth before sucking on her tongue. She feels the rumble of a groan before she
hears it and it doesn't nothing to sate the excitement that's starting to grow in the pit of her stomach. She feels completely
enveloped by Quinn and she loves every second of it.

She never wants it to the end; this closeness. Quinn, for most of the time, never tends to show what hides deep inside her.
She closes herself off when she feels something much too strong - scared and terrified that what she feels so strongly
could be somehow perceived as wrong. But in rare times like these, Quinn watches her with open eyes, gleaming with
emotion, and smiles like it's the last time she'll ever smile.

It's perfection; with the snow and hail drifting so peacefully outside, the haphazard taps against the window almost seems
to melt into their own peaceful breathing and pleasure filled moans. It's a perfect December day and nothing else that the
world could throw at them could ruin this.
"Quinn." She whines as she pulls away, gasping for breath, hips losing their rhythm against that moving finger. And Quinn
tilts her head and nuzzles her nose into her neck, licking and sucking and biting ever so softly. It's just another aspect of
the pleasure and she feels as if her body may ignite from the pressure within her. It drives her insane with want; that Quinn
is being so gentle and tame with her, she wants to just take Quinn's hand and push two fingers inside her and ride them
until she comes, but nothing inside her drives her to do it. Every time they have sex, it's just fucking; an uninhibited and
almost violent explosion of needs and wants. They hardly ever make love; Quinn never knowing if she can truly control
herself in the heat of the moment. But it's evident that she can; hazel eyes are locked hazel and the touch is distinctly
Quinn and not Q.

"I know baby," She hears mouthed against her neck, "I know what you want."
And she feels like sobbing when that finger trails down the length of her slit, opening her up. She arches her back,
readying herself when Quinn's finger poises itself at her slick entrance. The tip of her finger swirls softly, gathering the
moisture.

"You're so wet," Quinn groans, nosing the collar of Rachel's shirt away to nibble at her shoulder blade.
"For you," The singer replies, breathless. "Always for you. It's always been for you."
She feels the smile against her skin and immediately she knows she's said the right thing, because then that finger is
slipping ever so effortlessly inside her and her jaw just drops. She clenches around that one finger, feeling it as it bumps
over each sweet spot inside her.

"Oh G-God," She stutters, hands gripping Quinn's hair painfully tight. The pain barely registers in the back of Quinn's mind,
because now, finally being inside of Rachel, Q wants to play.

Her wolf prowls, trying to find a way out of the blockade that its human side had created, but Quinn refuses to let her
defences down. This about them and not the animal that lives deep inside of her.

She dots a kiss to Rachel's shoulder, finger fully inside, waiting for Rachel to calm down and relax around her stoic finger.
It takes some time, but eventually those brown eyes open once more and lock with Quinn's.

Nothing is said, not a single word is uttered, because there's no need. Quinn feels what Quinn wants, just as Rachel feels
what Quinn wants. Quinn is asking her if she's okay and when Rachel nods her head, she has her answer.

That finger slowly begins to slide in and out, twisting with each thrust in and curling with each thrust out. It's a kaleidoscope
of pleasure and all Rachel can do is hold on for the ride. Her hips rise and fall with each thrust, effectively impaling herself
upon Quinn's finger.
Their eyes stay connected, Rachel trying with all her might not to let her eyes slide to a close. She wants to keep the
connection that runs between them, so she tries desperately to keep that connection going. And it works, until Quinn's
other hand trails up her torso and begins to fiddle with each of the buttons of her blouse.

She whimpers, feeling the burning hot trail that Quinn's fingers leave on her skin when each button is popped. The shirt is
pried apart, the two pieces of errant cloth hanging at her sides, leaving her chest bared and heaving within the confines of
her black bra.
Her nipples are pebbled and stiff against the cloth of her bra and they ache to be touched. She pulls one hand away,
drawing her hand down toward her chest, pinching a nipple between her finger and thumb.
Quinn watches, transfixed, and just for a second, her finger stops in her shock. She loves it when her mate touches herself,
it's intoxicating; all she wants to do is sit back and just watch.
"Quinn," Rachel whines, letting her hips rise and fall with a quickening intensity. She needs that finger to destroy her from
the inside, she needs another finger, she needs to be filled, she needs to feel Quinn inside of her, breaking her apart and
putting her back together again.

"Keep touching yourself, baby," Quinn groans, grinding her hips against the delicious swell of Rachel's backside, "Make
yourself feel good." And her free hand moves down to those jeans, pushing them down further until they're mid-thigh.

There's more than enough room for Quinn to manoeuvre her hand, and push in that second finger that Rachel craves.
Slowly, sliding her fingers from the confines of Rachel's wet heat, she watches her girlfriend tease and pinch her nipples,
rolling them and twisting them between her fingers.
"Please," The singer chokes, licking her lips, dry from panting, "Oh please, Quinn."

"Tell me. Tell me what you want."

With a harsh pinch to her nipple, she ghosts her hand down the plane of her stomach, before finally bringing it to a rest
over Quinn's. "Your fingers, I need" She swallows and Quinn watches avidly as her throat bobs beneath the gleaming
tan skin, "I need them inside me."

Quinn is half tempted to tease, to circle her fingertips against that sopping entrance that begs to be filled. But before she
can even think about doing it, Rachel is pulling her hand up and brushing the wet middle finger over her bottom lip. She
licks her lip and groans at her own taste; usually she wouldn't like the thought of tasting herself, but Quinn always seems to
like it and she would be in remiss if she didn't admit that she liked tasting her own come.

"R-Rach?" Rachel's hot mouth envelopes her finger, sucking the length in, tongue circling around and flicking against the
tip. Quinn groans, because god damn this is so unbelievably fucking sexy and Rachel is looking at her with those come
fuck me eyes and it takes everything she has not to throw her onto the bed and ravage her.
That'll come later.

Rachel releases her finger with a quiet pop, kissing the tip, almost as a goodbye as she slides Quinn's hand back down
her body. "Love me."

"I do" Quinn whispers, leaning forward to kiss her, tongue and teeth crashing together as they moan against one
another. They kiss uninhibited, pouring out their need for one another, until finally, Quinn pulls back, panting for air, "I do, I
love you."
"Then show me."

Although she says it with such sweetness, such wanting, there's a hint of a challenge beneath the tone. Words are only
words, and yes, sometimes they work, but in this instance, she needs action; she needs Quinn to touch her.

"I'll show you," And two fingers slip inside her, and her mouth drops open, breath held, eyes half lidded, "I'll always show
you, Rach."

"Oh my Go-," She chokes and slams her head back against Quinn's shoulder. Her fingers are so deep, they fill her so
perfectly, the slide with practiced ease, "G-God, f-fuck"

She's been on edge for far too long; so long that she feels a few thrusts will completely shatter her. She doesn't want it to
be over, she wants to take her time, but she can't still her hips as they ride those fingers. They ride, taking those fingers
deeper, she grinds herself against the palm of Quinn's rapidly soaking palm with abandon.
"You're so beautiful, riding my fingers like this," Quinn pants, watching from over Rachel's shoulder, "You're so hot and wet
and tight, squeezing the life out of my fingers." She hears Rachel mumble incoherently, and she knows it's got the point
where Rachel just strings words together to try and make a sentence.

Quinn's palm slaps against her aching clit and each thrust of her fingers sends jolts up and down her spine. The warmth in
the pit of her stomach is now an inferno ready to breach and explode; she can barely keep it contained. Those fingers
drive faster inside her, scissoring and twisting and just when she thinks the pleasure can't get any better, Quinn hits that
magic spot inside her that makes her see stars.

"Quinn, I'm close, I'm so close," And Quinn clenches her jaw, driving those fingers, fighting off the burn in her forearm as
Rachel rides her fingers, forcing herself toward the pinnacle that her body demands she have.

"Come for me, okay?" Quinn's free hand runs down and starts to rub at her clit, violently from side to side, flicking the
aching nub with renewed vigour. She wants to see Rachel shatter, see her moan in ecstasy, she wants to feel her squeeze
and come around her fingers. "Soak my hand."
"F-Fuck, Q-Quinn!" Her back arches, hips drive down one last time, pushing those fingers as deep as they possibly can
go, opens her mouth and lets out a pitch perfect scream as she tightens and comes.
The inferno inside her explodes and the hot gush of heat from between her legs, the throbbing of her clit, the incessant
thrust of Quinn's hips against her backside, the quiet whine that Quinn lets free from her throat as she, too, comes sends
Rachel into a spiral of pleasure that seems to have no end.

She rocks her hips slowly against those fingers, riding out the orgasm that has her quaking, "Q-Quinnoh Quinn" She
sucks in one long breath and after a beat, blows it out, "Holy cra-,"

"That good?" Quinn asks breathlessly from behind her, hips still rocking ever so softly against her backside.
"More than." The singer chuckles, pulling Quinn down by the back of her head to plant a soft kiss to her lips, "I can't feel my
legs, don't move your arms."
Quinn smirks softly, "I'll hold you up."

This is just so unbelievably

Hot.
She's flat on her back, head cradled in a super soft pillow that almost makes her want to fall asleep, but one thing is
keeping her wide awake and biting her lip to fight off a whine. She glances down between her breasts and watches
Rachel's head bob between her legs.
Rachel's tongue is doing sinful things between her legs, sucking on wet lips, licking at her clit and dripping hole. She
bends her knees and spreads her legs wider, and such a small move makes her feel debauched and dirty and it sends
her mind reeling; fuck she loves feeling open like this.

She has the strength to overpower the hold that Rachel has on her hips, effectively pinning her to the bed, but she loves to
give up the power sometimes. Day in and day out, she always has to be the one in control, but at times like these she just
likes to give it up and hand it over to her lover.
Rachel controls her, but delicately so; not so much that she's on edge from the use of power, but just enough so that she
can relax and enjoy herself. So when Rachel pins her down, she doesn't feel threatened, she feels content and safe.
Rachel won't hurt her.

One broad lick up the length of her slit has her hissing and arching her back. Rachel looks up at her, pupils blown, cheeks
and chin soaked, and Quinn moans. But then she's pinned back down to the bed and she chuckles softly, "What're you
planning?"

"That," She nibbles at the crease between Quinn's leg and pussy, "Would be telling."
"You're driving me insane."

"That's the point, I believe?" Her eyes are sparkling with mirth and Quinn is half tempted to flip her over and show her who
the boss is in the bedroom department, but she just settles her head back against the pillow, keeping her eyes locked on
Rachel and waits.
She waits while Rachel teases her with gentle bites, hard enough to bruise, but never breaking that barrier between
pleasure and pain. The torture seems never ending and Quinn's body is so pent up and tense from how close Rachel is to
her point of pleasure that at one point she has to stop herself from grabbing the back of her girlfriend's head and burying it
between her legs.
"Oh God, just do it, for fuck sake." She moans, tone demanding yet pitiful. She wants to be fucked so bad, she wants to
be fucked into the mattress, she wants to wake up tomorrow morning and feel that pounding between her legs; a reminder
of a glorious night of uninhibited fucking.

"Do what, Quinn?" She props herself up on her elbows, only staring at the blonde's heaving chest as she licks her lips,
humming at the musky taste that coats them. "What do you want me to do, exactly?"

"I-," She clears her throat, ready to actually say what's being practically screamed in her head, but when she opens her
mouth, a blush envelopes her cheeks and she turns her head, burying her cheek into the pillow.

Rachel giggles, dropping her chin to kiss Quinn's clit. She watches it twitch as she pulls back and smirks, voice dripping
with a teasing tone, "Tell me."

"I want you to" She shakes her head, "I can'tnot without Q"
Cold hair hits her and she cuts her eyes down between her legs, Rachel has parted her with two fingers and she can see
how wet she is from up here. Her clit is throbbing painfully as the cold air assaults her and when she sees Rachel lick her
lips, she almost cracks.

"You can. Q is a part of you, all you need to do is access that part of yourself and use her confidence." She dips down,
sucking softly at the sensitive flesh and when she feels Quinn tense beneath her, she runs her tongue down, dipping until it
rests at her entrance. "Tell me what you want baby."
"I want you to" She drags up all the confidence that Q exudes with no trouble. Q offers it up with no fight and even yaps
in the back of her mind when she finally musters up the strength to stare Rachel right in the eye and say, "I want you to eat
my pussy."

Rachel feels herself gush at the words; the way Quinn's voice dips even lower than its usual register almost makes her
thrust her hips into the mattress. But no, this is about Quinn. She won't make this about her.

"I thought you'd never ask," She says when she finally regains her composure and dips her tongue inside that tight wet
heat. She feels Quinn gasp, rather than hear her, not because Quinn's thighs clamp around her head like a vice, but
because her tongue is that far inside, she can almost feel Quinn's body vibrate and tense.
She tastes beyond heavenly; it's so fucking intoxicating that she can't help but dive in. The sounds are almost obnoxious,
but all it seems to do is drive them both forward toward their joined pinnacle. Quinn needs to get off, Rachel needs to see
Quinn collapse around her tongue.

Her chin and cheeks are coated in Quinn's come and it makes sliding between her clenched thighs that much easier. It's
hot and wet and she can feel the sweat that's coating her forehead, but she drives on, she drives her tongue inside, flicks
against that g-spot, pulls away and does it all over again.
Quinn is reeling, stuck in a torturous pleasure and she's never felt so fucking alive. She grabs at her breasts, massaging
and teasing them and when Rachel watches, she pinches her nipples. Rachel's eyes clench shut for just a moment and
she feels the moan vibrate against her pussy, so she does it again. She fucks her tits while Rachel watches.

"Oh fuck," She whispers, refusing to drag her eyes away from Rachel's. Her hips rise and fall with each thrust of Rachel's
tongue. She feels how deep the singer goes and the takes a second to remind herself to pray to God and thank him for
Rachel's simply amazing breath control. "R-Rachel, you're gonna make me come."

Another moan and she whines, feeling herself pushed just that much further forward toward her goal. Her orgasm brews
quietly inside her, burning the pit of her stomach and enveloping her whole body. She feels sensitive almost everywhere,
and she tests that theory out when she lets a hand drift down the flat plane of her stomach, abs tensing over her fingertips.

She can almost see the smirk in Rachel's eyes as her fingertips get that much closer to her clit. It's there, untouched and
wanting and Quinn immediately knows why Rachel left it alone; she wants her to touch herself, she wants her to fuck her
clit while she rides her tongue.
"Oh my God," The thought alone makes her gush and Rachel laps it up happily, "You want me to-to," She pants, shaking
her head, "I can't."
And she wants to slap Rachel over the back of her head when she raises an eyebrow; it's a challenge and the singer
knows all too well that she hates to back away from a challenge. It's not in her character, and Q wouldn't let her hear the
end of it.

"Rachel I ca-," And she gasps, because her fingers are already trailing over her clit. How the-
Q.

She groans and feels all the fight drain away from her because fuck, rubbing her clit like that and with Rachel watching, it
feels so damn good. Rachel groans against her heated flesh and it just drives her to rub faster, two fingers clenched
together rub from side to side, battering her little clit into submission.
Her orgasm only drives closer and she has to clench her eyes shut from the onslaught of it all. Q whines openly, because
now she can't see Rachel's come soaked face, but Quinn can't really give the annoyance the time of day because her
orgasm is just there and Rachel's tongue is flicking faster inside of her and fuck, she's just hit that one spot and-

She feels sparks fly behind her eyes and her whole body tenses, her thighs clench around her lover's head, keeping her
there, needing to feel that tongue as it fucks her through the onslaught of her climax. She batters her clit as she whines and
moans, feeling herself gush into Rachel's open and needy mouth.
"Rachel! Oh fuck, Rach!"

The afterglow is almost as good as the orgasm itself, her body twitches and her clit aches deliciously as her thighs almost
flop open and land with a thump against the bed. Rachel takes one big lungful of air and then lets it out as a chuckle. Her
lips, chin and cheeks are soaked and if Quinn had the strength, she'd blush.
"Did you like that?"

Quinn nods.
Rachel smiles and sits up on her knees, running her hand up and down Quinn's inner thighs to calm the trembling woman
down, "That good, huh?"
Quinn nods once more.

The singer raises an eyebrow, "Can you use your words?"

Quinn shakes her and Rachel just laughs.

"Did I kill you?" Oh God, that tone of voice, it's all flirty andwhy is she crawling up her body like that? She nips at her
lower lip as she crawls over Quinn's body, "Soyou wouldn't want to go again, huh?"

Quinn's eyes widen and she nods.

"But," Rachel shrugs her shoulders, eyes glancing over to the bedside table, "You're probably tired and you can't really talk
so-,"
"I can talk."

And the singer smirks, leaning down to nip at Quinn's upper lip. The blonde can taste herself and usually she'd recoil at the
taste, branding it as just too weird, but she can't help but flick her tongue out and moan at the taste of herself on Rachel's
tongue.
"You're insatiable," She groans, thumping her head back against the pillow.

"Blame your pheromones, baby."

"Remind me to get them removed," Quinn grumbles.

And the singer just giggles, "I'll book the appointment for you." But then her face grows serious, eyes glinting wildly in the
early evening sunset. They've been fucking for hours and she knows she probably won't leave this bed alive. And when
Rachel leans over to open the bedside drawer, she sends a silent goodbye out to her parents and Hiram and all her
friends wishing them a happy life because she's going to get fucked to death by the secret sex machine that is Rachel
Berry.
"I think it's only right that I use this on you this time, don't you think?" Rachel asks easily, almost as if she's answering a
question in class or something, while brandishing a strap on in her hands, dangling it over Quinn's head.
"I" She gulps and her eyes slide to the seven inch wonder, "Guess so."
"Excellent!" Rachel beams and bounces off of the bed, steadying herself before pulling on the strap on harness, "You must
excuse me though, I've never used such a sexual aid before, or any sexual aid for that matter, so it may take some
adjusting to get used to-,"

"Berry." Quinn interrupts, voice dry, "Get over here and fuck me." She chomps down on her inner cheek; seriously Q?
"Well," Rachel chuckles and crawls back onto the bed when she's sufficiently happy with how tight the harness is around
her hips, "I wouldn't want to keep you waiting."
"Noyou wouldn't." She holds her breath as Rachel moves between her legs, pushing her thighs open to accommodate
her, "Do you want me-?" She motions to her body with a quick flick of her wrist.
"Huh?"

"Lying down or"

Rachel's eyes widen, "Oh! Oh. Uhmperhaps we could try something else? We used the missionary position last time
and while effective I think we should-,"
Quinn chuckles softly, leaning up on her elbow to cup her palm over Rachel's moving lips, "So you want to fuck me in
another position?"
Rachel nods.

"You want me on my knees?"

Rachel's eyes widen and she takes it as a good sign; she holds onto that confidence that Q loving bestowed upon her and
sits up, dropping her hand from Rachel's lips.
"You want to fuck me on my hands and knees, Rach?" She leans in, nuzzling the singers throat with her nose, "You want to
fuck me from behind?"
"Jesus Chr-," Rachel chews down on her bottom lip and nods slightly, not trusting herself to speak, lest she burst out into
song about how doggy style should be praised in a Broadway musical or something.
Quinnon her knees

The cock between her legs feel light all of a sudden and it's only when she glances down, she sees that Quinn has it
wrapped in a limp fist, stroking the cock as if it were real.

"Praise Jesus. Praise Mosesoh God, praise them all."

Quinn chuckles deeply, pulling away from Rachel's bobbing throat. She stares her right in the eyes as she thrusts her
hand, making sure that the insert hits Rachel where it matters; it was a small blessing and she knew that Rachel would
begin to appreciate that little insert.

"F-Fuck, Quinn that feels s-so good"

"Hm" The blonde nods her head, expecting that to be said, "Now imagine what it would feel like as you fuck me on my
hands and knees."
Rachel grits her teeth and hisses when Quinn gives a particularly strong thrust. That insert hits all the right places and it
drives her insane; she wants to see that beautiful blonde on her hands and knees. She wants to see Quinn; beautiful,
Christian, wholesome Quinn begging and moaning and screaming as she slams into her from behind.

"Hands and knees, now."

Q whimpers at the tone, battling against the stronghold that she's kept in. The tone in Rachel's voice drives both human
and wolf insane with want; they both want a piece of Rachel Berry and Quinn refuses to share.
"But I haven't done the most important thing, Rach."

"H-Huh?" Rachel mumbles, half obsessing over the thrusting between her legs, "W-What?" And she's pushed over onto
her back, head slamming back against the soft cushion of the mattress as Quinn settles between her legs. "Quinn, what?"

Ohthat.

"Q-Quinn!"

The blonde keeps her hold on the strap on, driving it down whenever her lips move their way down the soft shaft. Rachel
watches, transfixed on the way Quinn's mouth just seems to engulf the cock; her cock.
"Oh wow." Her head thumps back against the bed.
She hears Quinn chuckle around her and then a soft pop, "You just imagined it was yours, didn't you?"

"How did you-?"

"I imagined the same thing when I was fucking you with it."

She whines, and Quinn smirks, "Problem, Rach?"

"Get on your hands and knees, Quinn." Quinn doesn't move and they know they're at a standoff; it's a power play between
them both and Rachel can't help but get wet over the fact she's ordering a werewolf around, and an Alpha at that. So she
smirks, cockily and bites out a, "Now."

And Quinn moves.

She almost claps in her excitement at making Quinn move into position, but she hardly has the time to register it because
Quinn's ass is right there and "Quinn?"

"Hm?" She hears, almost distant.

"Have I ever told you what a splendid rear end you have?"
Quinn barks out a laugh, "I'm sure you've told me before, but it's always nice to hear it again."

She moves onto her knees, hands on Quinn's hips. The heat emanating from Quinn's body is almost stifling, but the distant
cold that seeps in through the single pane windows makes it comforting. She leans down, pressing open kisses to the
bottom of Quinn's back. The blonde moans at the brush of tongue that sweeps across the scorching skin and it's only
when Rachel kisses the swell of her backside does her back tense.

"I won't do anything you don't want me to," Rachel whispers, dotting a kiss to a plump cheek, "Another time, perhaps?"
All she does is she Quinn nod and she smiles; at least the idea didn't go completely out the window. She wouldn't deny
and say that the prospect of anal sex didn't hold some sort of fascination for her, she just never really knew how to breach
the subject with Quinn. She was usually vanilla in bed, unless Q had taken hold, and to say that Quinn, with all her
characteristics and not one aspect of werewolf, said perhaps, means that the blonde was interested too.
She runs a hand down and fingers Quinn's pussy, moaning at the moisture she finds gathered at her slit, "You're soaked,
baby"
"Justreally want you" She sounds so desperate and wanton, "Please, Rach"

Quinn never begs and the fact that she is, proves how badly she wants to be fucked. Rachel shuffles forward carefully,
using the moisture from Quinn to spread across the strap on, "Ready?" She poises herself at the entrance to Quinn's
pussy and holds her breath as she pushes in after Quinn's nod.
The tension that envelopes the cock pushes the insert deep inside her and she's almost howling before she's even
halfway inside Quinn. She honest to God feels like coming already, but when she looks down and notices Quinn's bowed
head, she just stops.

"Q-Quinn? Are you okay? Am I hurting you?"

The blonde is silent for a moment, then she lets out a sob of pleasure, "Oh God, don't stop. Please justmore."

And it drives Rachel insane and she pushes the full length of the strap on inside, effectively sheathing herself inside. She
almost feels Quinn tensing around her, it sends shivers into the insert and it rubs just right against her spot.

"So good" She groans, tipping her head back as she slowly begins to thrust. She's never felt so powerful, so dominant
before, and as she digs her nails into Quinn's hips, effectively holding her there, she continues to thrust, pushing deeper,
fucking faster.
She hears Quinn groan, she hears her moan her name, she hears her beg for more and it just makes her go faster. They
move in time with one another; Quinn pushing herself back to meet each and every thrust like her life depends on it.
And they're going at such a speed that Rachel feels sweat break out, she's panting for breath, her hips ache with each
thrust, her abs burn with each slam of Quinn's ass against her. The sound of Quinn's sopping wet pussy reverberates
around the room and she can smell the blonde, she can smell her pheromones.

"Oh fuck Quinn, take it all." And they're just fucking; a strong animalistic drive that sends them both spiralling out of control.
Quinn is gripping the sheets for dear life as she feels her pussy begin to contract around the cock that slams deliciously
inside her. She won't last long, she knows that, so she glances over her shoulder, and when she sees Rachel, eyes
clenched shut and jaw tensed, she knows her girlfriend isn't far off either.
"Fuck my pussy, Rachel. Make me come."
And all Rachel can do is let out a groan as she dips her chin to her chest and thrusts faster. Quinn screams, pitching
forward to bury her head in the pillows; never in her life has she felt this sort of pleasure, never has she felt like a fuck toy
and it drives her wild.

"Oh yes, fuck mefuck me" She chants into the sheets, mouth wide, eyes glazed, "Make me come for your cock."
And it takes only one last drive of Rachel's hips deep inside her to make her come. She screams her mate's name,
muffled by the bed sheets as her walls collapse around the cock inside her. Rachel holds herself deep inside, whimpering
out Quinn's name as she feels her own orgasm engulf her body.

It rattles her from the inside out and she can barely look at Quinn as shivers overtake her body. She's scared to look,
scared that she'll come again and black out from the pleasure. Quinn has quietened, head still buried in the sheets of their
bed. Sweat coats her back, her breathing ragged, hair a tussled mess.
By the time Quinn comes to, Rachel has already taken the strap on off and sealed it away in their bedside drawer. The
singer draws patterns on her sweat coated back with the tip of her finger; swirling patterns that only meant to calm and not
to arouse. They look at one another, and she's half tempted to laugh because Quinn looks completely shocked at what
has just transpired. Her eyes are still glazed in the afterglow of her body battering orgasm and she opens and shuts her
mouth as if she's trying to find the right words to describe what had just happened. Finally, she settles on the one thing she
can think of without sounding like a complete moron.
"Oh my," Quinn swallows, licking her dry lips as she turns her head to look at her mate. "Wow."

"Wow, indeed." Rachel chuckles, leaning forward to dot a kiss to Quinn's forehead, "You okay?"
"Justovercome."

"That good, huh?"

"That good."

Quinn snuggles up to her, head on the singer's chest, arm wrapped around her waist, "Tired"
"Go to sleep, baby."

"Only if you do," Quinn whines softly, nudging her softly.

And Rachel smiles, "Of course."

"I love you, Rach."

"I love you too, Quinn." But the blonde is already asleep, gently snoring, puffs of hot air melting against her skin, "More
than you'll ever know."
*Chapter 18*: Christmas in New York
She's freezing, she realizes, when she wakes that crisp morning. She also notices that Quinn isn't in bed with her, which
isn't disconcerting; the blonde tends to wake hours before she and can go about her day and complete her tasks before
Rachel even takes her morning shower.

This, however, is weird. Quinn's side of the bed is made, and the sheets are ice cold. Quinn has been gone a while. It
wouldn't matter to her; but today is special, so she can't help but feel a little upset that Quinn's gone about her day when
she promised to clear her schedule.
"Quinn?" She mutters, voice thick with sleep. She clears her throat as she sits up in bed, cradling the sheets to her bare
chest. They had gone out the night before and hadn't come back until early that morning. She honestly can't remember
even getting home, or stripping herself bare, but the ache between her legs tells her it was a good night.

She's out of bed, intent on looking for her wayward girlfriend, but she stops as soon as her feet hit the ground; it is way too
fucking cold. Of course, it's winter, but at least the apartment held some semblance of warmth. She'd usually snuggle up to
Quinn to gather heat before taking the almost torturous steps to the bathroom, but alas, Quinn isn't home.
The thought of getting out of bed, when it's this cold, just has her burrowing back into the sheets, rolling herself up amongst
the sheets until she's effectively looking like sushi. She looks like a bit of an idiot, with only brown locks peaking out from
the top, the tips of her toes peaking out from where the sheets can't cover, but she's kind of warm, so she doesn't care.

She sighs heavily against the sheets against her face and keeps her head up, looking at the clock on her bedside table.
It's seven forty-five and Quinn isn't home. Nor does she know when she'll traipse back into the apartment.

"Merry Christmas to me" She mutters distastefully, burrowing her face into the sheets.

She feels something wet on her forehead, and a musky smell that accompanies it. Somehow, her arm has stretched
upward, her nose burrowed into her armpit, but she still smells like the perfume she wore the night before. So that's
definitely not it. So does shower, after all.
Then there's another drop of moisture, to her cheek this time and she scrunches her face; it's so unpleasant. Slowly, she
opens her eyes, fighting off the sting that the sun brings as she does so. A golden haze shines above her, and that's when
she realizes that Quinn is effectively straddling her, still in her sushi roll, with a beaming grin on her face.
Her hair is messy something chronic, eyes bright and wide, sweat coating her skin. One bead of sweat drips down the
bridge of her nose and hits her square between the eyes, "Oh, gross, Quinn!" She groans, trying to shift the girl off of her
with her hips. But Quinn stays put.

The blonde chuckles softly, leaning down, "Gimme a kiss."

"Not while you smell like livestock," Rachel grumbles, turning her head away, but it does nothing to dissuade Quinn. She
nuzzles her nose against her cheek, pressing a soft kiss to the tan skin.
"It's only sweat, baby. You smell like that every time you get back from rehearsals and I don't complain."

"That's because you like the smell."

"That's not the point," Quinn smirks against her cheek, "Gimme a kiss." She asks again, adamant.

"If I give you a kiss, will you go shower?"

"Yup."

Rachel sighs, tipping her chin up from the duvet, "Fine," She tries to make it sound like she's being put out, and a little
annoyed that Quinn stepped out on Christmas morning, but when she turns her head and Quinn captures her lips, her
annoyance and the overwhelming body odour just melts away.
"Hmm," Quinn hums, pulling back from her girlfriend's lips, "I know you're probably upset." She sits up, resting her hands
on her sweatpant covered lap, "But I needed to hunt. I haven't for a while and I didn't want to be getting antsy during the
whole holiday period."
"You couldn't have done it yesterday?"

"I was going to, but then you sprung the Christmas Eve party on me and I couldn't."
"You could have said no."

"You were so excited though," Quinn smiles, "I'm sorry I missed Christmas morning, but that doesn't mean there still isn't
presents."
The wide eyed look has Quinn laughing, but the violent jut of Rachel's hips has her sprawled on the ground. She only
catches a waft of brown hair as it disappears through the door, and with a quiet sigh, she knocks her head down to the
floor, counts to three and-,
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

And she just chuckles.

It's hard to understand why people wrap presents; it's more trouble than it's worth. It lasts about two seconds and then it
just leaves a giant mess in your living room to clean up later on. That and it's fucking hard to wrap.
Quinn had done her Christmas shopping bit by bit; on her lunches at college, using the computer at work to eBay things
without Rachel checking the internet history, shopping when Rachel was rehearsing late for her play. She planned
everything down to a t; including hiding spots for each present.

Rachel likes to believe that she likes a surprise, but whenever she knows that Quinn has bought her something, she takes
it almost as a mission from God, to search for that present. It's ruined many a surprise that Quinn had planned, so
managing to buy so many, and hide so many presents without Rachel finding them, was a Christmas present in itself.
"I almost feel ashamed that I didn't buy as much."

Quinn glances up from her coffee mug and looks over to where Rachel is by the tree, on her knees, surrounding by ripped
wrappings and a stack of open presents that she's fiddling with.

"Baby, you bought me enough." Quinn smiles, "Trust me." And she had. Rachel had thought through every present
meticulously; a gift card for the deli that Quinn frequented almost every day (their BLT's were to die for), a brand new
watch because she'd forgotten to take it off one time when she transformed, brand new sketchbooks and top of the line
pencils, and a life drawing lesson at Spring Studio in Soho.

Every gift was thought through, and fit her perfectly; that meant more to her than the random knickknacks that she'd seem
fit to buy Rachel. But the singer didn't look like she was complaining; she sprayed different bottles of perfume into the air
to find her favourite, squealed so loud and struggled so hard for breath when she flipped open the front cover to the
Barbra Streisand autobiography to find the woman's signature slap bang in the centre of the page; eBay be praised. She
used almost all her pay check on that beast of a present.
"I love all of these presents, baby." Rachel beams and shuffles toward her, resting between Quinn's knees, "Thank you so
much."
"No problem," The blonde leans down and presses a soft kiss to Rachel's lips, "I'd buy you the world if I could."

Rachel blushes, glancing up at Quinn through her eyelashes. "You're so sweet" She whispers, voice thick, "Oh!" And
then she's shuffling, on hands and knees, back toward the tree. Quinn watches the singer as she fiddles around the back
of the tree, trying to reach, but failing, another present. "Ugh" She ends up face planting the front of the tree in her haste
to get it and Quinn covers her laugh with a couch when Rachel re-emerges, fake pine needles dusting her forehead.

"What's that?"
"Another present."

"Baby," Quinn chides as Rachel crawls back toward her, being careful of the present that she holds in her hand, "You've
bought me enough, I don't need anything else."

"Oh you'll want this one," She holds it out, a long looking present. "Go on," She adds, when Quinn doesn't immediately
take it.

"Okay, okay," Quinn chuckles, settling her empty mug by her feet before taking the present. She tugs at the green ribbon
that holds the wrapping together and raises her eyebrow at the crisp white box, "What did you get me?"

Rachel looks as if she'll burst, "Open it!"

With a laugh, she does, flipping open the lid and peering in. Her smile instantly drops, eyes scanning the object. She
hears Rachel giggling before her and she wants to look up, but she can't pull her eyes away from her 'Christmas present'.
"Do you like it?"

Her mouth gapes, opening and shutting as she finally moves her hand to grab it, pulling it from it's confines. "Think you're
funny, don't you?"

The box lands with a dejected thump to the ground between her feet and she swings the dog bone between her fingertips
as if she'll catch something from it. Rachel is still giggling, tears in her eyes, arms wrapped around her stomach, "Do you-
," She snorts, "Do you like it? I got it for Q."
Quinn narrows her eyes, "You really do think you're funny."

"Baby, I'm hilarious."

"Oh?" Quinn flips the bone in her hand, holding it like a club, "You're hilarious, are you?" Rachel's eyes grow wide, eyes
darting from the bone to Quinn's shit eating smirk.

"No. Don't you dare!"

Quinn growls and Rachel yelps through a giggle, kicking herself to her feet. Quinn is hot on her tail, so she runs around the
couch, hoping to keep some form of safe barrier between the two. But Quinn is much too fast, and because she's laughing
so hard, she finds it hard to keep a measurable distance between them both.

She ends up dashing into the bedroom, hoping to lock herself in the bathroom, but before she can, Quinn thumps into her
back, sending her sprawling to the bed, effectively face planting it.

Quinn pins her down, straddling her waist, sitting on her ass. Then she feels it, the fingertips against her ribs and she can
only choke out a 'no!' before Quinn begins to tickle her into submission.

Her lungs start to burn from laughing so hard, and she tries as hard as she can to push her girlfriend off of her, but her
strength is slowly slipping away, and although she's sure she'll be tickled to death, the fingers against her clothed body
feel miraculous.
Minutes later, after Rachel screams out with submission, Quinn leans down to nuzzle at her neck, kissing that pounding
pulse point as the singer tries to regain her breath.
"I love you, you sneaky bitch."

And Rachel just starts laughing all over again.

"Perhaps you should call your dad?" Quinn asks, nuzzling the top of Rachel's head. They're still cuddled on the bed,
Rachel's head on her chest, leg wrapped around her waist, arm wrapped tight across her chest, melting into the warmth of
Quinn's body.

"In a minute," The singer mumbles, half asleep.

"Baby, it's already one pm. Don't you think he'll be getting worried?"

"Since I was three years old, I allocated a certain amount of time to play with my presents without disruption." Then there's
a pause, "I am now using that allocated time."

"Babe, your presents are in the other room," The blonde tips her head toward the open doorway. 'Her' bone is laying
dejectedly on the threshold of the bedroom, which leads to an almost destroyed living room; wrapping paper, ribbons and
boxes littering the floor and coffee table.
"You're one of my presents."

Quinn smiles, "Oh?"

Rachel mumbles against her chest, something in the affirmative and Quinn drops a kiss to the top of her head. "You're my
favourite presentand that's a lot, when you compare it to that delightful signed autobiography you found for me."

"So I'm only just better than Barbra?"

"Just a tiny bit."

Quinn chuckles heartily, "Love you too." There's a howl, somewhere deep in the back of her mind. Apparently her wolf had
awakened since their morning hunting trip. Q had been aching for a good, long hunt and Quinn was eager to attend to its
wish. The howling is what awoke her at four am, only two hours after she and Rachel had settled down for the night, so of
course, she was exhausted. But the thought of stretching her legs and going out on a long hunt, regardless of how cold it
was, was just too inviting to pass up.

The howl is back, a quiet quake of a voice that sends a warm shiver down Quinn's spine. It's inviting, not at all terrifying.
She knows exactly what Q is trying to say, "Q says she loves you too"

The silence was something she was prepared for, after all, Rachel's last encounter with Q didn't really leave on a high
note. Q was practically heartbroken from the fear she evoked from within her mate, and she had taken to hiding herself
back within Quinn's mind without another word. Her ego, severely bruised, had taken days to recover; it may have not
taken too long, but to a werewolf, not hearing your wolf in the back of your mind, or at least feeling their presence or
strength, is unbelievably terrifying. It feels as if a part of you is ripped away, leaving you open to attack.
So when that low bark did return, she was only too happy to agree to anything Q wanted at stupid o'clock in the morning.
Hunting was on both their Christmas wish lists, and they got it.
She gently nudges Rachel, half wondering if the singer had fallen asleep from her comfortable position on her chest. But
then she's tapping her fingers on Quinn's chest, a rhythmic pattern that she almost becomes hypnotized by; those fingers
had been doing the exact same thing deep inside her only the night before.

"I don't-," She cuts herself off, "I meanI can't"

Q whimpers pitifully inside her and Quinn can almost see her tip her head down into her flattened down paws, trying to
burrow her snout into thick fur. She hurts for her wolf, she truly does; Q doesn't understand the fundamental points of being
a human, but of course, why would she? She was a wolf. She wasn't suppose to have a voice, and when she had been
thrust into Quinn's body, is was almost like throwing someone who couldn't swim into the deep end.
Being around her mate had only worsened her virgin like qualities to human life and she'd suffered for that with Rachel
backing away from her. As a wolf, she had never had to deal with dejection; on a hunt, she could take whatever she
wished, but as a human, she didn't realize she had to work for things.

Maybe she was biased; maybe she felt guilty for Q because Q was just another side to her? Her wolf side.
"Baby, it's Christmas"
Rachel sighs, "So?"
"Christmas is a time for giving" She nudges Rachel again, "So give."

"I gave her a bone."

"Whether you like to believe it, that was a prank present for me." She runs her hand through Rachel's hair, fingering the
dark brown tresses that are in need of a cut. Rachel had let it grow out since coming to New York, and while she didn't
particularly mind, it was a pain to wake up in the morning with a giant fan of hair over her face from where Rachel had
slept on her during the night. "Now give a present to Q. Just three words, baby. That's all I'm asking."
It takes a while, but eventually there's a mumble against her chest. It's muffled by her sweater and Quinn sighs, "So Q can
hear, Rach." Then she pauses; she really didn't want to guilt her girlfriend into saying something. It was always nice to do
something of your own free will. "She's a part of me, you might not like her as much as you do my human side but-,"

Rachel moves above her, raising herself up on her elbows. Her eyes, narrowed, flick from Quinn's, taking in the beautiful
hazel. She lets out a long breath, leaning down toward Quinn's ear. She braces herself, knowing she's going to cringe;
Rachel isn't going to mean it, she's going to say it so sarcastically that it hurts them both. She really doesn't want to fight
on Christmas Day.

"I love you, Q."

It's said with such certainty and devotion that it brings tears to her own eyes. Q's head pops up from her paws and she
yaps, just like a newborn cub, tongue lolling from the corner of her mouth. Then she feels the kiss to her ear, so gentle and
soft, it's almost as if it isn't really there.

Then Rachel is pulling back, looking down at her with such a soft smile, "Merry Christmas, to the both of you."
Quinn sniffles, trying to fight back the tears, "I love you so much."

Rachel opens her mouth to return the words of love, but Quinn is surging up, taking her bottom lip hostage, sucking softly.
She moans, shuffling her weight to one elbow, moving her free hand up to brush through Quinn's long locks.

They kiss fully, softly, gently, Quinn's tongue dragging along her lower lip, before finally brushing against her own. She
moans helplessly, revelling in the taste of Quinn, a mixture of coffee and fresh mint. She nips at the blonde's tongue, and
upon hearing a throaty groan, she drags her hand down through her hair, down her chest to latch onto a heaving breast. It
feels so full beneath her hand, nipple digging into the palm of her hand. From such a simple touch alone, she feels herself
gush between her legs. Between her thighs, slit wet and ready, she wants only one thing.
"Make love to me, Quinn." She whispers, pulling back, nose brushing Quinn's.

"Anything you want."

She arches her back, almost painfully, heels digging into Quinn's back as she finally meets that pinnacle that Quinn had
been torturously denying her for over an hour. Fingers clenching around the bed sheets, tearing them as shivers and
quakes wreck her body from the inside out, she rides the tongue that continues to flick deep inside her.

Her moan, almost deafening, makes her whole body vibrate. Her thighs clench around Quinn's head, holding her there as
she rides out the almost mind numbing orgasm. Her heart pounds deeply within her chest and she struggles to regain her
breath as her climax slowly begins to dull.
Legs flop helplessly to the bed, allowing Quinn to finally resurface. The blonde has such a cheeky smile on her face, that
Rachel would slap it off if she could, but the thought of moving any part of her body right that moment was almost like
asking herself to dive headfirst into concrete. She was not going to do it.

Quinn licks her lips, only to linger in the taste that Rachel left. Her chin is drenched, cheeks also, both with sweat and
come; which is hardly a surprise, an hour between someone's legs would do that to anyone.
"Feel better?"

The sound that comes from Rachel's lips could hardly be recognized as anything in the English language, and it makes
Quinn chuckle. She made Rachel's mind go numb yet again. Her ego loves her, right now.

It takes a few minutes, and by the time Rachel is able to speak once more, Quinn is laid beside her, propped up on her
elbow, fingertips drifting is large circles across the plane of Rachel's stomach.

"I don't want to say anything good because I know your ego won't be able to fit through the door."
Quinn snorts, "Trust me, making you speechless is enough to let me know that I blew your mind."

"Quinn Fabray," Rachel sighs with a smile, "Such an egotistical ass."

"Don't you know it," She leans down, dotting a kiss to Rachel's naval. She lets her tongue flick out, tasting the sweat that
glistens her stomach and smiles when she feels the muscle beneath her tense.
"Quinn?" The blonde hums against her stomach, "Am I getting fat?"

Quinn's head shoots up almost comically, eyes wide, mouth agape, "I'm sorrywhat?"
"I haven't been working out as much and my morning exercise routine now pretty much consists of drinking coffee and
grabbing a bagel on the go-,"
"You're perfect," Quinn says with such ferocity, "You. Are. Perfect. The only reason you've put on a few pounds is because
you're not rehearsing. Once you get back to dancing and prancing around on stage, you'll regulate yourself again."
Rachel smiles, softly, "Really?"

"Really. I mean every word." Then she dips her head back down, dotting soft kissing to her stomach once again, "If
anything, it makes you look sexier. Curvier."

"But it's five pounds."

Quinn's forehead thumps against her stomach and she jolts, "Quinn?"

"Five pounds, that's all? Baby, that's nothing."

"It is for an actress, Quinn Fabray. Our bodies should always be prepared for vigorous training, both dance and singing."

"If you lose these five pounds through dieting and not dancing, I'll kick your ass to Ohio and back."
Hazel eyes glare up at her, but they don't hold malice, just a soft determination. She stares into those eyes, feeling the love
that Quinn holds for her, body and soul.
"If I lose itit'll be through dancing."

Quinn smiles, "Good" Then she smirks and pulls up to press a kiss to her neck, sucking softly at her pulse point, "But I'd
prefer if you kept them on. Curves are so unbelievably sexy on you, Rachel."

"Quinn," She whines, feeling the nip of teeth to her skin, "Don't you dare work me up again. I will not spend all of
Christmas Day in bed with you."

"I don't know if I should feel offended or not," She mumbles against tan skin, not stopping the teasing bites she places
against it.

"Don't be, because I would love to. But I will not make love to you while on the phone to my father." She's already moving
away from Quinn's lips, grabbing her phone that sits on the bedside table, "I was always taught that it was rude to talk with
your mouth full."

Quinn snorts.
"Now behave yourself, do you understand?"

The blonde sighs but nods, begrudgingly.

"That goes for you too, Q."
Q just huffs.

"Happy Christmukkah, dad!"

"Merry-, wait, what did you just say?"

"Happy Christmukkah. It's a split of Christmas and Hanukkah."

There's a soft chuckle on the end of the line and she smiles when she hears, "Only you would come up with that, Rachel."

"It was actually Quinn's idea. She's the genius mastermind behind that."

"But of course." Another soft chuckle, "How has your Christmas been, sweetie?"

She doesn't really want to tell her father that she's spent the majority of it in bed, rolling around, writhing in pleasure with
her girlfriend between her legs, so she settles on telling him about her presents, what she got Quinn and their plans for the
rest of the day.

"You're not having people around for Christmas?"

Rachel glances across at Quinn, who is laid flat on her back, fighting but failing against falling asleep. Max was going to
be a guest at their small Christmas gathering, but due to certain circumstances, that changed. So doesn't really want to
mention his name, so she words it so that Quinn won't know what they're talking about.

"No, not really. We're just going to have a quiet lunch and watch Christmas movies on the TV."

"Sounds riveting, baby girl." Hiram chuckles softly, "I'm double and more your age and I have better plans than you do."

Rachel's eyes grow wide, "Do you have a date?"

Hiram snorts, quite loudly, "Oh no, I'm spending time with the Fabray's. They invited me to Christmas dinner. It seems
they had too much food going around seeing as though Quinn and Francesca aren't coming home for the holidays."
Well, that is certifiable. Quinn could eat a banquet and not be filled.

"Well I hope you have fun, dad. Try not to drink too much. Remember what happened at Bubele's house that Christmas
two years ago."

"I thought you'd forgotten that."

"I could never forget my own father strip dancing on the dining room table."

"Please bleach that memory from your brain, baby girl."

"Never," Rachel grins, raising her hand up to tease her fingers through Quinn's locks. The blonde smiles softly, eyes
droopy, half asleep. "So try not to drink too much and enjoy yourself, okay?"

"Planning on it," There's a lull in the conversation and then a sigh, and Rachel's hand stops it's teasing motions in Quinn's
hair. The blonde would notice, but she's fast asleep. Rachel knows what's coming, and no matter how much she prepares
herself, it still sends a deep pang deep into her heart, "Have you called your father to wish him a merry Christmas?"

"I wasn't planning on it, nor do I want to."

Another sigh, soft but exacerbated, "Rachel, whether you like it or not, he is still your father. He deserves a call on
Christmas Day."
"Deserves? You're telling me he deserves something after what he did to the both of us?"

"I have every right not to call him, but you don't. You're his flesh and blood. His only daughter. It would break his heart if
you didn't call him."
"He broke my heart when I found out he'd cheated on you. I only repaying him the favour."
"Baby girl, you're being arrogant and it does not suit you." Rachel bites at her inner cheek, turning her head to seek
comfort in her sleeping girlfriend. She looks so utterly beautiful, breathing softly as she sleeps on, unaware of their
conversation. "You've been repaying him the favour for over a year now. Maybe it's about time that the two of you finally
make amends?"
"I'll never see him in the light I once did, dad."

"No, you won't. You'll never get that feeling back, and I know baby girl, he was your hero, even though you never wanted
to admit it." Rachel rolls onto her side, shuffling closer to Quinn, dying for that comfort as tears burn her eyes, "Nothing will
ever change what he did, but nothing will ever change the fact that he is your father. We'll both probably never let it go,
but we can try to move on with our lives."
"Did he invite you to his wedding?"

"I-," Hiram pauses for a long while, then the sound of him clearing his throat echoes through the phone, "He did, but I
declined, for obvious reason. I don't want to see the man I still love marrying another man."
"Okay"

"Why do you ask?"

"Just to see how much you had forgiven him."

Another sigh, exhausted, "Rachel, I have my own reasons for not wanting to be at that wedding, but that doesn't mean
that you can't go and be a support for your father. If I chose to move on with another man, would you come to the
wedding?"
"Of course I would, dad." She drops her head on Quinn's shoulder, smiling softly when strong arms wrap around her
almost automatically.

"Then why won't you give your father the same pleasure?"

Her dad doesn't understand, no matter how much he says he does; of course, he has gone through the same agony,
perhaps even harder because their love was on such a different level. But she trusted Leroy, she trusted her daddy, and
he threw that away the day he allowed himself to fall for another man. Of course she would go to her dad's wedding; she
would give anything to see him happy again. But Leroy? He was just being greedy; wanting everything and getting it,
simply through hurting others.
"It's not the same." She sighs, softly, "Dad, I really don't want to have this conversation on Christmas Day, okay? It's
suppose to be a happy day."

"Okay" A small pause, then a soft, "But will you keep it in mind?"

"Yes." Rachel replies, just as soft, "But that's all I'll promise."

"That's all I ask, baby girl. Tell Quinn I wish her a happyChristmukkah and that I love her very much."

"I'd put her on the phone but she's asleep right now."

"Fed her too much?" Hiram chuckles, knowing the feeling.

"No, she's just exhausted."

"Should I ask why?"

"Not unless you wanna bleach your brain."

"Okay, ew." A low groan and Rachel chuckles, burying her face in Quinn's neck, "I think I need a Xanax."

She's alone in bed, once again, when she wakes up. As soon as she'd dropped the call with her dad, she'd got into such
a comfortable position that sleep couldn't seem to alude her. She was warm and content within Quinn's arms, forgetting all
about the talk about Leroy with her dad, but now she's alone in an empty bed.
It's past five in the afternoon and she frowns; she promised Quinn they'd eat early. "Quinn?" She calls out, climbing out of
bed and shuffling into the living room. Quinn is sat on the couch, feet up on the coffee table, watching re-runs of Modern
Family. "Baby?"

The blonde glances over her shoulder and smiles, "Hey, thought I'd let you sleep in before we have to go out."
"Go out?" Rachel frowns, rubbing at her eyes as she drops down to the couch, "I thought we were staying in?"
"Oh, did I forget to tell you?" Quinn smirks, pulling her feet from the table, leaning forward to pull open the only drawer that
it had. There's a drawing pad that Quinn likes to use when inspiration hits.
"You're not drawing me, are you?"

"Nope," She flips open the drawing pad and pulls out a ticket, "Reservations."
"Reservations," Rachel deadpans, taking the ticket from Quinn's hands, "Babyhow did you get a reservation for Le
Bernardin on Christmas Day?" Eyes wide, her eyes scan the slip of paper.
"A hell of a lot of bargaining and a promise to give the owner's daughter a few art classes in my spare time."
But Rachel shakes her head and Quinn frowns, "Baby, this is way too expensive. This is one of the most expensive
restaurants in New York."
"I still have some money left over from what Alfred and Cybil gave me. I thought I could use it for an extra special date in
New York."
"Christmas Dayin one of the best restaurants in New York" She looks up at Quinn with shining eyes, "You're amazing,
you know that?"
The blonde smiles, "It's right by Broadway as well. I thought we could take a walk down there? We'll pass right by the
Gershwin Theatre."
Rachel laughs, a lone tear making its way down her cheek, "My God, you're perfect."

"No" Rachel smiles softly at the look in Quinn's eyes, "You are."

"I have nothing that I could possibly wear, Quinn. Why couldn't you tell me sooner so I could go and buy something?"
"Because," The blonde drops a kiss to her exposed shoulder, wrapping her arms around her waist. She's only wearing
underwear, her best underwear because Quinn deserves to be treated for her amazing gift giving when they get back,
"That would ruin the surprise."
"Still," Rachel smiles, resting her hands over her girlfriend's, "You still could have hinted or told me to go shopping."

"I did," Quinn dead pans, "You told me you enjoyed your wardrobe the way it was and made me cook my own dinner."
"I did not!"

"Oh, you did."

Rachel huffs, defeated; she remembers that night. She had been in the midst of preparing dinner when Quinn has
mentioned such a thing. She had taken it offensively, mostly because she was wearing a star covered onesie as she
cooked, and promptly told Quinn to 'cook her own damn dinner' and left for the bedroom in a huff. Her best diva storm out
to date.
"Baby, no matter what you wear, you'll look amazing. Just pick something and put it on."

"Fine, I'll go out in my underwear." She smirks when she hears the growl against her shoulder, "Down girl."
"Only I get to see this, no one else."

"What if I have to do a nude scene on Broadway?"

"I'll re-write the damn script."

And Rachel snorts; she truly does adore Quinn when she gets territorial like this. "Whatever you say," She pries Quinn's
hands from around her waist and nudges her back with her backside, "Go get dressed. I'll find something."

"Kay."

She finally settles on a dress she'd bought for the graduation party at Puck's house back in Lima. It was a beautiful black
number and showed just the right amount of cleavage and thigh without looking trashy. She took her time doing her hair
and makeup, whereas Quinn seemed to change, do her hair and make up in record time and had taken to sitting on the
edge of the bed, twiddling her thumbs as she waited.
"You know, we're gonna miss our reservations if you take any longer," Quinn chuckles, "Q and I wanna eat."

Q barks loudly, eager to eat.

"Well you and Q can wait. I am not walking into Le Bernardin looking less than my best," She glances through the open
bathroom door and into the bedroom. Quinn is in the very same suit she wore to Leroy and Michael's dinner; grey slack,
white shirt, grey waistcoat and tie ensemble. Her hair is down in loose curls and while her makeup is light, it seems to
make her natural beauty just radiate. "Do not rush me, Quinn Fabray."

Quinn props her chin up on her calm, "Yes ma'am." Then she smirks, "But we have to leave in ten minutes or we will miss
our reservations."

"I said don't rush me!"

The blonde just chuckles.

"Welcome to Le Bernardin."

"Hi, we have reservations. Under the name Fabray."

She wraps her arm around Rachel's waist, who seems in complete awe at being inside one of the best restaurants in New
York. She smiles down at the singer, smitten as all hell.
"I never thought I'd be in here until I'd made it onto Broadway. But here I amnineteen years old and still in college!"

Quinn chuckles, "Enjoy it, baby. You deserve it." Her head snaps back to the Maitre'd when he clears his throat softly.
"Right this way Miss. Fabray, I have your table ready and waiting."

Before she can even say thank you, Rachel is clapping her hands together like an excited toddler and almost screaming
thank you right in his face. She grimaces and opens her mouth to apologize to him, but he just chuckles heartily and
shakes his head, "I've had worse, believe me."
They're settled at their table, granted, it's not the best table, but Quinn wasn't expecting a miracle. The miracle itself was
getting the owner to actually agree to the last minute reservations; she couldn't really care less about where they're sat.
They're right at the back, but not exactly hidden away. They have a beautiful view of the whole restaurant, which is
cramped and busy; waiters and waitress' alike dash from table to table, from front of house to the kitchen and back again.
Quinn feels herself go dizzy just watching them.

"My name is Allison and I'll be your waitress for this evening," Allison is completely bright eyed and bushy tailed; fiery red
hair and green eyes, thick New York accent, "If you need any help, don't hesitate to ask." She hands them both menus and
smiles softly, "What would you like to drink?"
Quinn immediately glances at Rachel, knowing that the brunette doesn't exactly like to drink. Apparently drinking alcohol is
bad for your throat, almost as if it'll melt your vocal chords or something.
"Uhm" Rachel glances right back at her and shrugs, "You can choose."

"Well," She glances up at Allison, whose smile never wavers, "I was going to order wine, but your voice."
"I drank last night, baby. I don't mind drinking again."

Quinn nods with a smile, "What wine do you recommend?"

Allison immediately goes into a long spiel about, what seems to be, every single wine that the restaurant has to offer.
Rachel seems too preoccupied looking around the place and the long names of every single wine seems to grate against
Quinn's brain like a cheese grater.

"Uhm, theBarolo was it? That's a red wine, right?"

"Barolo Mirafoire, yes, it's a red wine."

"Then that one," Quinn adds with a smile.

"That's a hundred and twenty-five dollars a bottle, is that okay?" If Quinn wasn't content that she had enough money in her
savings account, she'd be face planting the table by now, she reasons. She knows Allison is only asking because they're
so young, and most of the other restaurant goers are well to do business men and their wives.

"That's fine, absolutely fine."

Allison beams, "I'll be right back with your wine."

When Quinn turns her attention back to Rachel, she shoots back in her seat at the look of utter shock on Rachel's face,
"Rach? Are you okay?"

Rachel leans forward and hisses, "A hundred and wenty-five dollars a bottle, Quinn? Are you insane?"
"I couldorder champagne if you prefer?"

The singer melts, "Oh baby, noit's perfect. It's justI know you have the money, but we have no idea how much all of this
is going to total up to."

"I have enough money for tonight, Rach," She pats her girlfriend's hand softly, "Trust me."
The wine is divine, and Rachel savours each and every drop. She can hardly believe what is happening; she, Rachel
Berry, is in Le Bernardin, drinking expensive wine and well on her way to ordering a slap up meal for herself. Quinn sits
primly before her, hand clutched around her wine glass as she looks around.
To say she's nervous is an understatement; she never really prepared herself to be here. But Quinn looks pale and if she
may throw up, it worries her. "Baby," Quinn's head snaps to her, "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," She sounds confident, but as an avid Quinn Fabray observer, Rachel knows that Quinn is lying right through her
teeth. Quinn taps her foot incessantly, it's only a tiny movement, when she's nervous, but it's there.
"You're nervous, why?"

"I just," Quinn sighs and takes a sip of her wine before slowly placing the glass back to the table, almost afraid that she'll
shatter it. She doesn't want to know how much they pay for their wine glasses, "I don't want to eat like a pig in front of all
these people."
Rachel smiles softly, "Baby, you'll be fine. Just relax, take your time and enjoy your meal. Don't care what other people
think of you, okay?"
"Kay" Allison walks up to their table, hands clasped before her. Her tiny notepad is clenched beneath her hands.

"Are you ready to order?" She asks with a devastatingly beautiful smile.
"Uh, Rach?" She waves her hand in her girlfriend's direction, before slamming her hand back down into her lap. Oh God,
what if she tipped the wine over onto the table? That would be a disaster.
Rachel doesn't seem fazed though, and glances down at her menu, reciting her choice, rolling elegantly off her tongue, "I'll
have the Hamachi, please?"
Allison scribbles down the order in two seconds flat, "And for yourself?" She asks, turning her attention to the fidgeting
blonde.
"Oh, uhm" She glances down to the menu that's spread open on the table, "Can I have the" She narrows her eyes;
are all things given a weird name in posh restaurants? Some things are much too hard to say, so she settles on one thing
she does know, "Can I please have the lamb?"

"Of course," Allison scribbles away, "So one Hamachi-Lettuce Roll with Mint Thai Basil and Sauce Vierge. And one
Pistachio Crusted Rack of Lamb with Grilled Spiced Eggplant and Jus."

Rachel is beaming and Quinn just stares wide eyed in awe, "I've worked here a while," Allison comments with a wink, "I'll
be back with your meal. In the meantime, if you need anymore wine, please do ask." And she's gone again.

"Jesus fu-,"
"Quinn Fabray," Rachel chides softly, shaking her head with a smile, "Mind your language. I'm in awe too, but there's no
need to swear."
"She's memorized that menu! That's crazy!"

"She has to, she works here," Rachel chuckles, taking a long sip of her wine, "Calm yet?"
"More like freaked out" Quinn smirks, "That woman's memory is crazy." Q yaps in agreement.

Rachel is adamant that Quinn try some of her lettuce roll; it looks divine, but the bloody meat on her plate, cooked to
perfection, is calling her name. Little lambs chant for her to eat and Q howls happily in the back of her mind, licking her
chops for Quinn to take a bite.
"I'll try some of yours, if you try some of mine?" Quinn asks with a smirk. The look of pure horror on Rachel's face has her
almost in stitches, she covers her smirk with her wine glass. They've already made it through one bottle, and they're
halfway through a second.

"Evil," Rachel chides before munching happily on her meal, "My," She mutters around her mouthful before swallowing,
"This is divine. Quinn, you have to try it."
"I'm happy with my lamb," Quinn chuckles, "Just enjoy your meal, baby."

Rachel smiles at her warmly, leaning forward to cup Quinn's cheek, "Thank you for this"
"I just wanted to give you a good Christmas"

"And you did, Quinn. You certainly did."

Quinn avoids marking her waistcoat with Jus five times during the course of their meal; it took everything she had not to
grab the rack of lamb with both hands and sink her teeth into the delicious meat. But she followed Rachel's lead and ate
sedately; she wasn't getting her meal in her stomach as quick, but at least she was eating.
No matter how painstakingly slow it was.

"How was your meal?" Allison asks, looking down at their empty plates, "I hope it was to your satisfaction?"
"It was perfect, thank you so much." Rachel chirps, wiping the corner of her mouth with a napkin.

"It was great," Quinn replies, just as eagerly.

"Fantastic. Could I interest you both in dessert?" She hands them both menus, specializing in desserts and Rachel's eyes
light up.
Looks like they're eating dessert.

Quinn sips at her wine as she peruses the menu, while Allison picks up their plates and carries them into the kitchen.
Minutes later, Rachel is almost bouncing in her seat in her excitement to get dessert and Allison has finally returned to
take their orders.
"Are you able to make these desserts Vegan?"

Quinn's eyes cut to the waitress, half preparing herself to cause hell if they deny her girlfriend on Christmas Day.
"Of course; we value everyone's eating habits."

Q deflates in the back of her mind; seems she was excited at causing a ruckus.
"Fantastic! Could I please have the Gianduja, please?"

Allison scribbles away and turns her attention to Quinn, "Could I have the Chocolate Peanut, please?" Seriously, it was the
only thing that sounded English on the damn menu. That and it sounded delicious.

"Excellent, that's one Milk Chocolate-Hazelnut Mousse, Caramelized Banana and Burnt Honey-Pistachio Ice Cream.
Vegan friendly," She adds with a smile, "And also one Madagascan Chocolate Ganache, Peanut Mousse and Salted
Caramel Ice Cream."
And the red head is turning away with a smile, dashing toward the kitchen.

Quinn and Rachel just watch in awe, "How does she do that?" Rachel asks, and Quinn just shakes her head.
"Fuck knows."

"Quinn!"

Dessert, for lack of a better word, was amazing. They shared this time, although Quinn wasn't a fan of anything Vegan;
she'd tried Facon once and vowed never to again before chomping her way through two BLT sandwiches with extra real
bacon.

Rachel isn't able to taste Quinn's desert, for those very same reasons, but it didn't stop her grabbing Quinn's spoon and
practically feeding her. It's so unbelievably romantic and Quinn, no longer nervous after spending over two hours in one of
the most expensive resturaunts in New York, allows herself to lean back in her seat and let her beautiful Broadway-bound
singer feed her.

"This was simply amazing," Rachel gushes, clearing the rest of her plate with one last spoonful which she barely holds
back from licking. "Thank you so much for this."

"My pleasure, baby."

The check arrives and Quinn glances at the total without allowing Rachel to see, "Tell me how much." The singer
demands, but Quinn just smirks, "Quinn. Tell me."
"Nope, this was your present. I'm not telling you how much I've spent."

"Quinn Fabray."
"Rachel Berry."

She pulls out her credit card, slipping it into the check book and handing it back to Allison who suddenly appears at their
side. Apparently the call of a credit card is enough to beckon any staff member. Even the Maitre'd looks up.
"You're not going to tell me, are you?"
Quinn grins, draining the last of her wine. She savours it, after all, if she pays four hundred and thirty-two dollars for a meal,
she's going to drain each and every drop.

Rachel stares up in awe at the Gershwin Theatre, reliving the memories of when she sung on that stage with Kurt almost
two years ago. Singing For Good on the stage it originated from, was so thrilling and filled every fantasy she had ever had
for singing on Broadway.

If there had been an audience, she would have been in heaven.

"You're going to be there, one day." Quinn whispers in her ear before kissing it gently, "You're going to perform to sold out
crowds and wow each and everyone of them."
Rachel turns to look at her girlfriend, eyes wide, "You really think so?" She knows she's good; she knows she's an
amazing singer, but there's times when she just needs reassurance. Everything at Julliard and Sophia had proven how out
of league she could possibly be in New York.

This wasn't Lima, Ohio. She wasn't the best in town, anymore.
"I know so."

The singer leans up, pressing a kiss to Quinn's pouting lips, "I love you."
"I love you too," They turn away from the theatre, Rachel's arm wrapped around Quinn's. It's a chilly night and the body heat
Quinn gives off is a God send; it's like having her very own personal heater. They walk in silence, content to walk amongst
the snow, to feel the gentle fluttering of snowflakes against their faces, to listen to the quiet bustling of a usually busy city.

"Quinn?"
"Hm?"

"What are you going to do about college?" She asks, glancing up at Quinn, "We go back to college after New Years
andyou'll need to know what you're going to do."

"I'm not going to leave. I've already paid all my tuition; I can't afford to go to another college right now." Quinn sighs and
Rachel watches the puff of air melt into the air like a cloud of dust, "William will just have to make do. I'll try talk to him
again."
"But Max said-,"

"I know, butI have to try, right?" Quinn glances down, trying to decipher the look that her mate is giving her, "I'll have to
prove to him that all I want in Brooklyn is to go to college and that's all."

"What if he says no?" Her body jolts as Quinn stops, effectively bolting them in space, "Baby?"
The blonde sighs and continues walking. Rachel tightens her grip around Quinn's arm, following blindly, "If he says no, I'll
just prove to him that all I want from him is permission to go to school."
"How will you do that?"

Q growls dangerously in the back of her mind and it makes her wince; what she's contemplating is enough to make her
cringe and Q growl with dissatisfaction. It's not just because she's a stubborn human, but the fact that she's an Alpha that
makes the choice she'll have to make twice as difficult.
As an Alpha, it is never acceptable to bow down to another, regardless of their social standing. An Alpha never bows to a
wolf, or another Alpha for that matter. They only bow when they show their defeat, and that was something that Quinn never
wanted to show.

Q never wanted to be defeated without a fair fight, but if it meant her future in New York was secured, she knew she had to
do it. It may kill her from the inside, but it meant more to her to have a clear path to her future instead of living a life that she
ultimately didn't choose, thanks to an ignorant and pigheaded Brooklyn Alpha.
"I'll bow down to him," They walk a couple more steps until Rachel pulls her to a stop. She sighs, softly, fighting off the
headache that Q's growling is giving her as she turns to face her girlfriend, "What?"
"Butyou can't do that."

"And why not?"

"Because you're an Alpha, Quinn. You can't destroy everything your werewolf stands for."
"I can if it's my werewolf that's stopping me from having a future that I choose," She pulls her arm free and wraps her arms
around Rachel's waist, pulling her close, securing her against her front, "It may hurt like hell and my ego may never
recover, but at least I'll know I stood for something I believed in."
"You'll be labelled a coward."

"Excuse me?" Quinn bristles, "How did you know that?"

"Quinn, have you already forgotten my PowerPoint presentation from when we were back in High School?" The blonde's
eyes roll and Rachel sighs, "If a wolf bow downs to another without a fair fight, that werewolf will be labelled a coward and
expelled from the pack." A pause, "Slide fourteen, paragraph six, line two."

Quinn snorts, even though she's annoyed, "I can't believe you memorized that."
"You told me to learn everything, and I did. Apparently, you've forgotten your roots."

"Rach, I don't need a lecture about my 'roots', okay?"

Rachel sighs, "I'm just saying" She shrugs, "If you had any compassion for your wolf and its feelings, you'd reconsider
bowing down." She shoves her hands in her pockets and begins down the sidewalk.
"What?" Quinn asks, jogging up to the singer, "You don't want me to leave NYU, yet I come up with a solution and you
shoot it down. What do you want from me, Rachel?"
"I just-!" She turns and stomps her foot, "I don't want you to destroy your morals just because of an idiotic pig headed man.
You'll become someone less than yourself, and I don't want that. Q would never forgive you."
"Would you?" Quinn asks, softly, voice wavering.

"Of course," She replies adamantly, reaching her hands up to cup Quinn's cheeks, "Justplease reconsider? Q and I
may not see eye to eye, but the last thing I want to see is everything she stands for to be destroyed."

Quinn sighs, taking Rachel's hands in hers and pulling them down to they hang between their stoic bodies, "I'll think about
it, okay?"

"That's all I ask."

And they continue, Quinn's arm wrapped around her girlfriend's waist, mind turbulent with which road to go down.

She's almost in tears as Rachel whispers words of love and devotion into her ear. Her body feels almost like a comfort
blanket as it drapes over her; chest to chest, hip to hip, each inch of skin is touching, bringing that comfort and love that
Quinn needs.
Quinn needs to know that no matter what, Rachel will always love her, will always care for her and stand by her. She needs
to know that Rachel will always be there, even if she comes home a wounded Alpha, or a prideful one.
And the singer makes it her mission to prove that. So as soon as they walked through the door, she had meticulously
undressed her girlfriend, the love of her life, and kissed each pale inch of skin with a kiss filled to the brim with love.
Tonight, they would not be filled with lust; they would be gentle, she would be gentle. She would prove to Quinn that no
matter what happened, she was staying put; even if it meant she would be the mate of an Alpha shunned from society.
She would stay by her, because all she would see is that prideful Alpha that she always loved.

"I love you so much," She whispers, sucking softly at the lobe of her ear, "I love you both. You're both so strong; I know
you'll make the right decision."

She hears a soft sob from Quinn and it makes tears shimmer her eyes. She fights back the urge to cry by kissing down
the blonde's body, soft kisses and gentle nips; collarbone, to breasts, to stomach, to hips, right down the expanse of her
legs, right down to her feet.
Love is poured into each touch, each caress; she'll love every part of Quinn and Q, regardless.
"I don't know why I'm crying," Quinn sobs, "So much for a happy Christmas," She chuckles, throat suddenly feeling knotted
and dry.
"You've given me the best Christmas I've ever had, Quinn. Don't you dare think differently." She kisses back up Quinn's
legs, softly flicking her tongue out from time to time, dipping behind her knees, up those glorious thighs, to crease of her
leg, to soft curls, "You've made me feel so special; like I'm the only girl in the world that has this love."

Quinn sobs softly and runs a hand through Rachel's hair, feeling the soft, almost silky texture beneath her fingertips.
Rachel smiles up at her, nudging her thighs apart with her shoulders, "Hold tight, baby. I'm going to make you feel just as
special as I do."
And she does, my God, she does. Quinn feels every inch of her body become engulfed with the touch of Rachel's tongue
against her; a spike hot feeling that tears her limb from limb and puts her right back together again. The touch of hot
tongue against her clit has her whimpering, but the sensation of being filled with two fingers has her arching her back and
sobbing out with ecstasy.
She's never felt so loved; so torn apart yet complete. It's such a mystifying experience and she wants to drown in it for the
rest of her life. Only Rachel Berry could pull such a thing off, and she does it perfectly.
"R-Rach," She sobs, pushing her cheek into the pillow as her hips grind down on those working fingers inside her. "More."

A third finger is slipped in without question; there's no teasing tonight, no begging. What Quinn wants, Rachel will give her.
The fingers move deeper, flick against tensing walls, rub a rough ridge that has both her and Q howling.

"U-Up here," She pants, looking down at Rachel, who has her eyes shut tight, focusing wholly on the task at hand, "Up
here. I need to kiss you."

Rachel's eyes snap open, and without question, she's kissing Quinn, fingers still working. She takes in each and every
moan, groan and whimper that Quinn has to give and feeds off of them. She speeds up her fingers when the telltale signs
of Quinn's fluttering walls let her know she's close, and only brings her thumb into play when the blonde shows sign of
climaxing.

It's fast and brutal, but also slow and soft. It's so unbelievably parallel and it's hard to describe, but then Quinn is clutching
at her, nails digging into the backs of her shoulders, dragging down softly as her orgasm swipes through her, consuming
her, controlling her.
"Oh f-f-fuuuuuck," She groans, voice trembling along with her body. Rachel pants against her neck, enjoying the burn of
Quinn's nails against her skin and the aftershocks that shake her slow moving fingers. "Rach"
"Shhhh," Rachel pulls her finger free, slowly and wipes them against Quinn's thigh, "Go to sleep, baby. It's been a long
day."
"I love you so much," Quinn mumbles, already half asleep. Rachel smiles, cuddling up against her side, and beaming
when Quinn's arms, yet again, wrap around her. They hold one another, content, and only when the blonde's breathing
even out does she whisper,

"I love you too."

It's seven am, and the wine that she'd had the previous night has come back with a vengeance it seems. Her head is
pounding with a headache so ferocious that her eyes feel they may fall out of her head, so slowly, trying not to fall out of the
damn bed and wake Rachel up, she climbs out of bed and stumbles into the main room.

A bottle of ice cold water waits for her in the fridge, and two Paracetamol are popped in quick succession. She knows
they won't do anything to fight back that terrible pain, but the placebo effect is always a bonus.

Her mind isn't in the right place, she knows that, and all she wants to do is crawl back into bed and cuddle up to her
girlfriend. But she knows that if she doesn't do it now, she'll never have the guts to do it.

Q is primed and ready, barking and jumping, ready for a fight. She's half tempted to call Alfred for his opinion, but she
knows she can't always rely on him. He's not always going to be there, and one day, she'll have to deal with things on her
own without backup.
Why not start now?

She tiptoes back into the bedroom and pulls on a pair of jeans, a shirt and hoodie before toeing on some winter boots. It
looks cold as hell and another fresh blanket of snow has covered New York through the night.

She won't be cold, but regardless, it's good to keep up appearances.

With a sigh, she glances at her phone, finger itching to call her mentor. But she disregards it at the last second, and
instead of grabbing her phone, leans down to press a soft kiss to Rachel's forehead. The singer is sleeping so peacefully,
the urge to crawl back into bed almost overpowers her.
But she drags herself away, and out into the early New York City morning.

She's constantly on guard as she enters Brooklyn, regardless of the fact she's actually on a subway and no one will really
attack her in broad day light. No one can know the existence of wolves; that's the first rule. William, even though a Grade A
prick, isn't stupid enough to break the one golden rule to werewolves.
Sidebar is where she waits; outside until it opens at eight, fifteen minutes away. She knows William or one of his
henchman will appear sooner or later; she'll have been traced as soon as she walked into Brooklyn territory.
With a sigh, she leans against the front of the building, hands shoved in her hoodie pockets. The uncomfortable pounding
of her heart has her completely on edge and she settles to knocking her head back against the brick to pass the time.
Surprisingly, it helps with her headache.

Her pockets are empty though; why didn't she bring her phone? With a groan, she pounds her head back particularly hard.
Now she really wants to call Alfred; get his take on things and ask for his advice. She's going into this blind and the
thought terrifies her.
Q, however, is primed and ready. She won't hesitate to jump out and fight and Quinn knows that.

Ten minutes later, she sees the bar staff milling around inside, but knows they won't open the door until dead on eight.
"C'mon" She groans, turning her head back to look out at the street. Cars pass by, more yellow cabs than anything else
and she's second away from jumping into one and going back home.
"You were told not to come here."

Her head snaps to her right and her eyes go wide.

"My father told you not to come back. Why didn't you take his advice?" That shit eating grin, cocky tone, bright eyes. No.

"NoYou're not William's son."

"Oh," He steps forward, hands shoved into his jeans pocket, "I assure you, I am."

Jesse St. James.

*Chapter 19*: Howl
Jesse St. James still carries himself with the same air of confidence that he had back in High School. His hair, cut shorter,
pushed back and styled with wax, gives him a more sophisticated vibe; unlike the super tight jeans, boots and ripped shirt
that makes it seem like a six year old styled him.

"Quinn Fabray," The tone in his voice has Q poised and ready to break free; she doesn't like the smell he's giving off right
now, it just reeks of arrogance. She takes her time, reigning herself back in, trying to process her thoughts; the last person
she expected to bump into in New York City was her girlfriend's ex-boyfriend.
"What the hell are you doing here?" She doesn't intend for it to come out as hostile, but she can feel the niggle at the
bottom of her spine, just ready to snap and contort into its animalistic shape.
"I smelt you a few minutes ago; a smell I only smelt back in Ohio. I thought I'd come and investigate."

"You're"

Jesse smirks, eyes tracking to Sidebar's door, where one of the bartenders finally unlocks the door to allow the early
crowd to enter. His eyes slide back to Quinn, "Early breakfast?"
Not with you, she wants to say with teeth bared, but he's already walking into the bar, holding the door open for her like the
perfect gentleman. His smile, disarming, urges her to enter. She keeps her defences up as she slides past him, creating
a wide berth so she doesn't have to touch him.

She watches him as he waves at Rick, who stands behind the bar, stacking glasses underneath the counter, which the
bartender openly returns before Jesse wanders toward the back of the bar, sitting in the exact same booth that William
had occupied only a week before.
"Going to sit?" He asks, grabbing a menu and opening it, "I won't bite, if that's what you're afraid of."

"I'll bite right back," She says, almost automatically, but instead of the smell of fear that should exude from his body from
the threat, only a smirk and an amused scent comes from him.

"Just sit down, Quinn. I'm not here to piss you off or threaten you. I just want to talk."
"About?" And she finds herself sliding into the booth, sitting directly opposite him. She crosses her arms proudly over her
chest, muscles tensed, ready to pounce if he makes any sudden movements.
It was okay to trust another wolf, but with Jesse's prior involvement in her past, she has every right to be on edge. He used
Rachel to get a fourth consecutive National championship, and broke her heart to get it. Of course, he came back,
declaring that he'd changed, any maybe he had, but his involvement with clinging to Rachel and going to prom with her
had just rang alarm bells in her head.
"About why you're in New York; in Brooklyn, when my father expressly told you that you shouldn't."

Quinn eye's narrow, glittering gold, "Father?" Then her eyes widen, "William?"
Jesse's eyes continue to scan the menu, and it's only when he's made his choice, and when he shuts the menu, does he
respond, "William St. James. My father and Alpha of the Brooklyn borough."
"So you're-,"

"A wolf, yes."

His eyes snap to the door when the familiar ring of the bell sounds. A man, in his late fifties comes in, obviously a bit of a
bum, and sits at the bar, pulling a fistful of dimes out of his pocket to pay for an early morning drink.

"You can't be," Quinn challenges, staring Jesse right in the eye when he looks back at her, "You can't. I would have smelt it
on you back in High School."
"What did you smell on me when we were in school together?"

Quinn's nose twitches at the question; she remembers it vividly. It actually brought tears to her eyes whenever he was
near. He would douse himself in what seemed to be a whole bottle of cologne; she really had no idea how Rachel could
deal with the smell. Just being near him for five minutes was enough to give both her and Q a headache.

"Cologne."
"Musk, to be precise. I used so much that it cancelled out my natural pheromones. It's a simple trick; used for years. It's
how my father slowly took over the Brooklyn pack. Not one wolf could smell his Alpha pheromones and took the prior
Alpha by surprise when he challenged him in a fight."
"What happened?"
"The prior Alpha, a man by the name of Joseph, thought my father was just some stray wolf. So he took my father's
challenge and fought him, but made the mistake of not taking him seriously enough. He only fought with half his power and
by the time he actually caught on to what my father had done, my father tore him a new throat."

Quinn blanches, and Jesse openly chuckles when he watches her naturally pale skin turn even paler.
"SoI didn't smell it because you used so much cologne?"

He nods and glances over at Rick as he comes toward them, "Food?" The bartender asks, not even bothering to look at
Quinn.

"Yeah, I'll have the cheese and ham omlette." He pats his stomach, "Need to watch my waistline."
Rick chuckles and then throws a half hearted glance at Quinn, "And for you?"

"Anything with bacon on it," She hadn't even glanced at the menu, and didn't feel really feel like eating, but the growling in
her stomach was something that she couldn't ignore. If she didn't eat, she'd lose her strength, and although Jesse was
being amicable right now, he could turn at any given moment, just like his father had done.
From charming to threatening in one sentence. She would be prepared this time, unlike Q had been.

Rick nodded and left, disappearing behind the kitchen doors. Jesse is smirking at her, and for some reason, it feels like
No Man's Land. The table between them is one they both don't want to venture past; it's a barrier between a fight that
could inevitably break out between them.
They don't talk until Rick comes back with their food, a good twenty minutes later.

Jesse is digging into his omelette, slathering it with tomato ketchup, when she slowly slides her eyes away from him, half
worried that if she took her eyes off of him, he'd attack. Tense, she glances down to her plate, a full English breakfast and
the amount of meat on her plate has her salivating; sausages, bacon, fried mushrooms and tomatoes, hash browns,
baked beansand was that steak?

"Jesus," She praises as she digs in, almost shovelling a whole sausage into her mouth. Jesse smirks, chewing softly on
his eggs as he watches Quinn almost inhale her breakfast.

"Hungry?" He asks, after he's swallowed.

Quinn just glares up at him, but her eyes soften when she sees no malice in his eyes, just a soft teasing look, and nods
slowly.
"So," He starts, dipping another forkful of omelette into his pool of ketchup, "I suppose you have preconceptions about
why I'm here." He chews, swallows and then adds, "That I'm probably here to rip you a new asshole."
She watches a baked bean fall from her fork and land with a dull plop back onto the plate, "You're obviously here for your
father. You're here to warn me that if I come back, you'll have me killed or forced out."
"Look," Jesse sighs, leaning back in his seat, "I don't believe in what my father believes in. He's so archaic it's almost
painful. This is the twenty-first century, and yes, while wolves stick to their animalistic routes, we're also human."
"Wait," Quinn mumbles around a mouthful of bacon, "You're not here to threaten me?"

Jesse cringes when a speck of bacon hits the table between their two plates, "If anything, I'm here to tell you that I think
you're doing the right thing. It takes balls to come back here and you've done it. My father needs a wake up call, and
maybe this will be the thing to do it."
"Wake up call?" She asks, mouth finally empty. She begins sucking the tomato juice from her fork when she realizes she's
already demolished her meal and the plate is almost scraped clean.
"He likes to believe that he's the leader of all leaders; he thinks he has all the power over his pack and from what I've
heard, and I've heard a lot, a large group of the wolves in this borough aren't happy with the way he runs things."
It's not unheard of; if a wolf isn't happy with the way an Alpha runs their pack, they will challenge them to a fight in the hopes
of taking over that pack. Wolves run their lives, almost as a human would, just with an added push. Humans use voting to
change their leader, wolves use strength and power to change theirs. It's not surprising that William runs his pack in a way
that aggravates the other wolves around him, but to see his own son taking a stand, must mean it's a huge issue.

"What's he doing, exactly?"

"Scare tactics and attacks." Jesse immediately shuts up when Rick drops off two mugs of steaming coffee before
heading back to the bar. He waits until Rick is distracted by the bum, finished with his first drink and now bartering for a
second for free, before he continues. "He attacked a local werewolf last week because she thought about moving to
another borough."
"She?"

Jesse shrugs, "It doesn't matter about the gender. He'll attack anyone if they don't live to his standards."

"She thought about moving to another borough and because of that, he had her attacked?"

He nods, "Like I said; he uses scare tactics to rule his pack. We're slowly becoming sick of it."
Quinn picks up her mug, cupping it in both hands, allowing the warmth to soak into her skin, "But you're his son."

"I may be his blood, but I have morals. I don't believe in his way of ruling; I never have and I never will."
Quinn frowns, eyes drifting back over the bar. Rick is in the process of throwing the bum out; his strong hand is on the
drunk's back, pushing him with a hidden strength toward the door. Rick, it seems, is on his Alpha's side. And with the way
he doted on William only a few days ago, it was proof that Rick wasn't one of the many werewolves that hated the way
William treated his pack.
"What does this have to do with me?"

Jesse's eyes glint dangerously in the low lamp light, "I knew when I first met you at McKinley that you could one day
become an Alpha; the way you carried yourself, your scent, the way you protected the people around you and stuck up for
yourself. I could feel your strength, I could see it hidden in your eyes."
Quinn chews nervously on her inner cheek, fingertips tapping a haphazard rhythm on her mug. "Get to the point."

And Jesse stares her right in the eye, and with a low voice, so low that even her tuned ears struggle to hear, says, "The
only thing that can topple an Alpha, is another Alpha."

"I wish you'd stop disappeari-," Rachel stops, dead in her tracks, spatula in her hand. She was halfway through making
herself some pancakes when she heard the front door open and shut. But this? She wasn't expecting the scene before
her.
Quinn, stood before her, clenching and unclenching her fist around her keys, isn't a particularly weird sight. Her girlfriend
did it all the time, especially if she was thinking; she would stay rooted to the same spot and fiddle with her keys as she
thought.

But having Jesse St. James stood behind her, a charming smile on his face, was the last thing she expected.
"Jesse," She gasps, clutching the spatula to her chest. She can feel the cold wetness of the pancake mix smear across
her chest; her low cut tank doesn't leave much to the imagination. "What-how-when?"
Her eyes immediately snap to Quinn, eyes wide in silent question; why the hell was Jesse St. James here? Why was he in
their apartment? Why was Quinn acting so weirdly?
"Long story short?" Quinn glances over her shoulder and waits for Jesse's nod, before looking back at her girlfriend,
"William? The Brooklyn Alpha?" At Rachel's hesitant and confused nod, she continues, "His name is William St. James."
"St. James?" Brown eyes slide to Jesse, "You're his son?" The confusion gets the best of her and slowly, she settles the
spatula back down on the countertop. This is all too much, and it's only been a few minutes. Her eyes don't know where to
land; her girlfriend or her ex-boyfriend? Confusion swells deep inside her and just for a second, she feels as if she'll be
sick. She can't control this situation and it's terrifying her. "Excuse me," And she rushes into the bedroom, shutting the
door with a soft click behind her.

"That went well," Jesse sighs, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets.
"Yeah"

They both cringe when the hear the low wretching that fills the bathroom and filters into the living room. Sometimes they
hated their good hearing.

"I'll go check on her."

"Baby?" Quinn rubs at her back, soft and gentle circles that calms Rachel right down. Quinn hands her the bottle of water
that she'd grabbed from the refrigerator before walking into the bathroom. Rachel is almost collapsed on her side, elbow
propped on the rim of the toiler, head in her hand. She takes slow and cautious sips of her water, praying that it'll stay
down.
"Thank you" The singer whispers, voice hoarse, acid still burning her throat.
"Areyou okay?" Quinn shuffles closer on her knees and keeps her hand on her back, soothing circles that has Rachel
melting into the touch. Her eyes are wide with worry; she never expected bringing Jesse back into the picture would have
Rachel vomiting.
"I just-," Rachel swallows and then takes another few sips of her water, "I wasn't expecting him to be stood there."

"Should I tell him to leave?"

"NoNo, you don't have to do that. It was just shock."

"Why were you so shocked?"

Rachel looks up at her, eyes watering, and this time, Quinn doesn't know if it's from being upset or just throwing up. She
can't smell her girlfriend's scent over the obnoxious smell of vomit and she can hear Q yelping to get the hell out of there;
it's horrid enough for humans but for wolves the smell is almost toxic.

"For a second I thought" Rachel sighs, "I don't know."

"No, tell me."

"I thought he was going to hurt me again."

Quinn drops her chin to her chest when Rachel begins to softly cry; she had done this, she had brought Jesse into their
home, their sanctuary, and the safety bubble that Rachel had created around herself had been unexpectedly burst. She felt
vulnerable, and Rachel never wanted to feel vulnerable. She had always told Quinn that it took her back to Sophomore
year when everyone trampled over her, when she was slushied and bullied relentlessly, when people used her for their
own gain. And that included Jesse.

"I'll tell him to leave, okay?" The blonde is already up on her feet, "If you don't want him to come back, I'll understand."
Rachel just nods, suddenly too tired to talk.

"So Rachel Berry is your girlfriend," Jesse comments from where he's sat on the kitchentte counter, "I never expected
that."

Quinn sighs, shutting the bedroom door behind her, "I didn't either, trust me."
Jesse smiles softly, "I hope you're treating her better than I did." He looks down to his lap, "It seems she's still got a little
PTSD from when I was in her life."
"It was like whiplash for her, being with you. One minute you loved her, then you were using her, then you were coming
back and then fighting with Finn over her."
"Whiplash," He chuckles and slides off the countertop, "I can't deny that."

"She wants you to go. She isn't really comfortable around you."
He nods, "Understandable, I'll leave." He's already walking toward the door, and it's only when he's about to shut the door
behind him does he ask, "Tell her I'm sorry, okay? I know it's probably meaningless, but I'd appreciate it if you told her."
Quinn just nods and it's enough to make him leave.

Rachel wakes up in bed. How she got there, she doesn't know, but her head is swimming and her mouth tastes
disgustingly horrible. Quinn is propped up beside her, drawing pad open across her lap, pencil drifting across the page
effortlessly.
"Hey," The singer mumbles, lifting her head slowly, hoping that the momentum won't make her want to throw up again. Her
whole body aches, which is awful; it feels as if she's just had a full night of drinking.
"Hey," Quinn shuts her pad and puts it on the bedside table before rolling onto her side, facing Rachel. "You okay?"

She just shrugs, dropping her head back down to the pillow, "How did I get on the bed?"
"Carried you. After I told Jesse to leave, I came back and you'd passed out on the floor, so I thought I'd let you sleep
someone comfortable. Because I'm, you know, chivalrous like that." Quinn says it with such a charming smirk that it makes
Rachel giggle.

"Such a gentlewoman."
"And don't you forget it," She leans forward and dots a kiss to the tip of her girlfriend's nose, knowing that if she kissed her
on the lips, Rachel would flip out. One rule in the house was that no kissing went on in the morning before they had ample
time to brush and floss their teeth.
And it's not like she could exactly brush her girlfriend's teeth while she was passed out. Choking on toothpaste was
something she didn't want to inflict upon her mate.
They're both quiet, and Rachel takes to playing with Quinn's hand that lays between them. She plays with each individual
finger, flexing it back and forth, running the pad of her own finger over the soft skin, just touching, needing that contact.
"Want to talk about?" The blonde finally asks, quietly, almost afraid to shatter the quiet that settles between them almost
naturally.
And the only thing she can think to say is, "Why was he here? I thought you didn't like him."

"I didn'tI still don't."

"Then why?" Rachel whispers, pulling Quinn's hand up to her face and nuzzling it. She smells like meat, but she doesn't
shy away from it; she needs all the contact she can get from her werewolf girlfriend right now.
"I went to Brooklyn to talk to William. I assumed he'd smell me and come to meet me, or at least send someone that could
take me to him."
"You were going to fight him?"

"If it came to it."

"Quinn Fabray," Rachel pushes her girlfriend's hand away, eyes wide, "How dare you not tell me! You just left this morning
and I had no idea where you had gone; what if you had been seriously hurt? I wouldn't have known where to find you. You
even left your phone here!"

"Baby, baby" Quinn shuffles closer and wraps her arms around the flailing singer, "Baby, relax. It was the last option on
my list. The very last option."

"We need to talk about your issues with making decisions without me,"
Quinn groans, "Rach"

"No, Quinn. I am your girlfriend, I am your mate; that should at least give me some sort of power into what you do in your
life."

"Okay, if I say next time I'll talk to you about it, will you let it go? We have a much bigger issue to talk about right now."
Rachel stares for the longest time, and Quinn actually finds herself squirming away. Even Q seems to shudder and hide
beneath her paws at the long, blank stare. But then there's a, "Fine," And Rachel takes Quinn's hand again.
Both Q and Quinn huff with relief. Jesus, fuck, Rachel could be scary sometimes.

"So as I was saying before you rudely interrupted," She nudges her fist softly against Rachel's nose, "I went there to see
William, but then Jesse showed up and told me that he was William's son. We had breakfast and he told me a few
interesting things."
"Hm?" Rachel is only half paying attention, her eyes locked on Quinn's hand, nose brushing softly against the knuckles
every now and again, "Like what?"
"He told me that a lot of the wolves in Brooklyn don't like the way that William is ruling them. Apparently the wolves are
planning a revolt; it's on the down low at the moment. Jesse doesn't think his father has caught on, and he's hoping he
doesn't."

"Jesse wants to revolt against his dad?"

Quinn nods, "Did you never meet his parents when you were together?"

"No, they were always 'away on business'. That's what he told me."
Quinn nods, "Well, apparently Jesse doesn't agree with the way his father is running his pack. He wants to weed out all
opposition and then go for his dad."
"He wants to kill him?" Rachel gasps, pulling her face away from Quinn's hand and propping herself up on her elbow, fully
invested in the conversation. She knew that Jesse would stop at nothing to get what he wanted; but killing your own father
to do it?

"No, not kill him. Just strip him of his power. William follows wolf rules more often than human. If another wolf fights William
and wins, he'll have to back down as Alpha and leave the pack. He'll be shunned away and ordered never to come back."
"But" Rachel's eyes drift away from Quinn's, falling to the few inches of crisp bed sheets that separated their bodies. It
takes a moment, perhaps only a second, for it to finally sink in. From what she's learnt from Quinn, all they other New York
Alpha's were content to stay in their own boroughs and never venture out from their territory. Only one Alpha in the whole of
New York City didn't belong to a pack and that Alpha was

Her eyes lock with Quinn's and she sighs, "Noyou can't. He'll destroy you."
The blonde shakes her head, "Baby, that's what Jesse and I were going to talk about. The wolves that aren't happy with
William are starting a resistance of sorts. Together, they're slowly weeding out his supporters, then by the time another
Alpha goes to fight William, he'll have no back up. He'll only have his own two feet to stand on."

"Quinn" Rachel shuffles forward, reaching out to brush a hand through Quinn's golden locks, "You shouldn't get involved
with this. This whole situation doesn't concern you. Let them sort it out amongst themselves; I don't want you getting hurt for
stepping in and trying to help."
"Jesse wants me to take over as Brooklyn Alpha."

It's said so flat and so fast, that it takes Rachel by surprise. Her head rears back, her eyes grow wide and her jaw
unhinges almost unnaturally, "I-I'm sorry, what?" She stutters, almost lost for words.

"Rachel, you heard me."

The singer shakes her head, "Quinn, you were saying to Max only a week ago that you didn't want to start a fight. You may
have people on your side but you're not ready for this. You don't have full control of your power yet, and there may be more
to come. Alfred told you that before you left Lima."

"I know, I know." She sounds annoyed, not just by how much sense Rachel is talking, but also by not knowing which choice
to take. Should she help? Should she not? She's new to New York; she doesn't know how things work yet, especially in the
werewolf society.
"No, you don't." Rachel takes her by the shoulders and pushes her flat to the bed, she straddles her girlfriend's waist and
looks down at her, hard determination shining in her eyes, "You're not ready for this. Let Jesse and the rest of his group
take on William. I don't want you getting involved. You don't have a pack, and you certainly don't have the resources to take
control of a whole borough. You can't do this."

And because Rachel tell her she can't do it, she finds herself more intent on doing it. She hates being told what she can
and cannot do; she had always been this way. Whenever someone told her that she couldn't do something, she did
everything in her power to prove them wrong. Unfortunately, it never seemed to work out and she always ended up getting
hurt.
But now she was strong, she was an Alpha with more power to come; she just needed to train, needed to focus, she could
do this, right? But Rachel was looking at her with soft eyes, almost silently pleading with her to decline Jesse's offer.
The power that would come from being Brooklyn's Alpha, however, was intoxicating. Q was pacing relentlessly in her
mind, snuffing and howling, wanting to take that power from William and have it herself. Every Alpha, from birth, loved
power, and that was obvious from her love over power back in High School; most popular girl in school, dated the most
popular boy in school, Head Cheerio, straight A's, 4.0 GPA. It gave her the power she needed to fly through school.
"It's hard to turn this down, Rach. Everything inside tells me to go for it; Q wants it and I need the power."

"Why, though? Why can't you be happy with what you have?"
"What I have right now, is being dictated by another Alpha. I can't deal with it. I hate being controlled by someone else, and
as an Alpha, it makes me feel weak. I'm not weak, Rachel."
"I know" Rachel whispers, leaning back against Quinn's stretched out legs, "Does my opinion matter at all?"

"Of course it does, Rach. You're my mate and your opinion means the world to me." She sits up, wrapping her arms tightly
around the singer's waist, "You're the clear mind that I need right now and you bring up valid points, butsometimes my
werewolf needs overcome by human ones."
Rachel nips at her lower lip, "You need this? Both you and Q?"

And Quinn just nods, lungs feeling tight all of a sudden, words alluding her.
"You're not ready" Rachel whispers, almost broken, "You might be strong but you're not strong enough. I could lose you
and I-," She breaks off and Quinn watches her throat bob almost violently, "I can't l-lose"
And she just breaks down.

She quietly shuts the bedroom door behind her, phone clutched tightly in her hand. It digs uncomfortably into her palm, and
suddenly it feels like a lead weight. She skims her finger across the screen and clicks on the name that had recently been
added to her contact list.
It rings for only a few seconds before she hears the now familiar hello on the other end.

"How does this work?" She asks, quietly, heading toward the kitchenette.

"We only have a small resistance group so far. Luckily, we have the Beta involved; he doesn't like the way my father is
handling the pack either."
"Beta?"

"Second in command. If my father were to ever die or leave the pack, he would take over and become the active
Alpha."
Quinn sighs with relief, "So you don't need me to take control?"

Jesse laughs, loudly, but not arrogantly, "Scott is a strong wolf, but intelligence is not his strong suit. I wouldn't like to live
under his rule. I'd prefer it if you took control." Quinn groans softly, "Have you spoken to Rachel about my offer?"
"Suffice to say, she hates the idea."

He chuckles, "Of course she doesn't. Look, I'm not forcing you to make a decision right now. I can deal with Scott until
we find another well deserving Alpha, but this plan will take years to come to fruition. We've only just started and our
numbers are small. My father has a lot of followers; followers that are willing to die for him. We need to weed them out
before we even get close to him."
"And how will you do that?"

"Get our numbers up, first and foremost. That's the most important thing. Including myself, and you, if you're interested,
our numbers are only a pathetic fourteen. Yes, we have the Beta on our side which helps with a lot of issues, but we
need more wolves if we're going to do anything remotely drastic."
The hum of the refrigerator echoes in the otherwise silent kitchen; there's nothing she fancies eating, but she hasn't eaten
since that morning and her stomach is getting a little antsy. She grabs a few slices of bread, a bag of grated cheese and
a pack of honey roasted ham. It's not a BLT, but she'll make it just as meaty as one.
"You seem okay with turning against your dad." It's an observation, and she half expects Jesse to laugh in her ear, but he's
just silent. Quinn can almost picture his face; the cocky smirk gone, and a look of pained agony on his face.

"I'm not okay, but I know when to stand up for something I believe in. Someone very important taught me that and I'm
not willing to stand by and let my father hurt any more people."
Quinn meticulously folds slices of ham, trying to make them thicker, phone poised between her shoulder and ear, "Who
taught you that?"

Silence once more, "Just someone." Then a slight cough, "This is a long distance plan. Nothing will happen until we get
our numbers up and finalize a proper plan."
"How long will all that take?"

Jesse huffs, "An estimate?" Quinn just hums, then licks her lips when the smell of ham reaches her nose. This sandwich
looks damn near exquisite; a work of art. She'd nail it to her wall if she had the strength to not eat it two minutes later. "I'd
say a year and a half. Two at the most."
Quinn cringes, "So, in a year and a half you hope to have the number of wolves you need, and then the plan starts?"

"Numbers are important. If we don't have enough people, we're totally fucked. By the two year mark, I hope to have
around a quarter percentage of my father's followers taken care of."
Quinn snorts, "Taken care of? What are we? The mob?"

Jesse does chuckle at that, "They can make a choice. Join us or get the hell out of Brooklyn. If they don't co-operate
wellyou know what happens."
Her masterpiece of a sandwich is complete and she takes an almighty bite, for which she praises her huge mouth,
because the amount of ham in her mouth right now is just beyond glorious. Jesse waits until she's finished with her
mouthful; he knows how it feels to be hungry, he is a wolf after all.

"Is Max Thorpe in your group?"

"Never heard of the guy."

"He's my friend. I go to school with him, I could get him to join up."

"Great! Talk to him and hopefully he'll have some people he trusts to have other people join. We need to get the word
out there, but on the down low. Can he be trusted?"
Quinn smiles, "He's probably one of the best friends I've ever had. He can be trusted."

"Quinn, I'm all for your friendship, but don't let that shadow what's at stake here. If he told one wrong person, it could be
the end for us."
She takes another bite, savours it, swallows it and then takes a long gulp from the carton of milk in the fridge. It's a pet
peeve of Rachel's to drink from the carton, but her girlfriend is asleep, so she can do what she wants. Living on the edge,
Got Milk? Style.
"He wanted to defect from William's pack a week ago. I told him no because I couldn't risk it, but I'm sure he'd be still up
for it."

Jesse sighs, almost with relief, "Okay, good, goodWell, talk to him and we can meet up and talk. It has to be
somewhere private, where no one will hear us. It was bad enough of me talking to you in Sidebar; we need to be more
careful from now on."
"Okay, where do you suggest?"

"Bring Max to the hunting ground. We'll hunt together and make a day of it, then at least we can talk in our minds. No
one will be able to hear us."
"No problem. When?"

"We can't meet up anytime soon. My dad will get suspicious and if I'm seen around with you on consecutive days,
people will ask questions. Give it a week."
"Okay, sure. A week then."

"Great." Then there's a pause, a long pause and then a sigh, "How is she?"

She knows who he's talking about, but the way he asks, with such utter defeat, like he's almost sorry, gives her pause. Q
growls dangerously, stamping her paws down, defending her territory, defending Rachel. Jesse might be cool right now,
but he was still Rachel's ex; he stilltouchedRachel.
Blonde hair dances across her eyes as she shakes her head, trying rid herself of the images and of her jealousy, "She's
fine. Tired, but fine."

"I wasn't anticipating that sort of reaction from her."

"Well, you did egg her in the school parking lot."

"I-," He sounds as if he'll defend himself, but then he just stops, "I can't apologize enough for that. I don't deserve her
forgiveness for that either."
"No, you don't." She doesn't intend for it to come out as a growl, but it does, nonetheless.

"I hope I can see her again. It'd be nice to catch up with her."

Her eye twitches, "Perhaps."

"Hm," He sounds distracted, like he's not really paying attention, "I have to go. Remember, a week."

And then only a dial tone rings in her ears.

She has her teeth sunk into a tomato, cucumber and guacamole sandwich when she hears a familiar ringing fill the
kitchen. She chews quickly as she glances down at the flashing screen; taking in the cheesy picture that both Quinn and
Max had taken together, obviously in class, with charcoal smeared across their faces.
"Baby! Phone!" She calls out to Quinn, who she hopes hasn't jumped in the shower yet, after she's swallowed her
mouthful.
"I got it!" She hears shouted right back, and glances up just in time to see Quinn dash around the bedroom door frame,
only clad in a pair of fluffy wool socks.
She openly leers, a smirk on her face, as Quinn skids, butt naked across the wooden floor, socks powering her forward
toward the kitchenette counter. She had seen her girlfriend naked plenty of times, and although there's something
unbelievably adorable about Quinn skidding across the floor in only a pair of woolly socks, her body is enough to make
any conscious thought leave her mind.

Suddenly she wants to pin her girlfriend to the counter and fuck her.
Fuck, that v-cut at her abs could even make a nun break her celibacy vow.

"Wow, hello," Rachel smirks, holding up the vibrating phone, "You need to wear this more often."
Quinn just smirks and grabs the phone, sliding her thumb across the screen and bringing it to her ear. "Max."

"You text me?"

"Ah, yeah." She cups the phone in her free hand and smiles, "Private convo, I'll take it in the bedroom."

"Oh, so that's how it is?" Rachel asks playfully, reaching for her sandwich.
"Yeah, we're planning to elope." The blonde shrugs, "Sorry. I meant to tell you sooner."

Rachel just smirks, "I hope he's as good in bed as I am, then."
"Oh, he's better." Quinn turns, padding back toward the bedroom, and she feels Rachel's eyes follow her backside.

"Good luck getting laid, Fabray." Rachel chuckles when Quinn flips her off, and dives back into her sandwich when the
door shuts.

"So, what's happening? I could only understand so much from your text."

"I met your Alpha's son. Turns out he used to be an old acquaintance of mine from High School. He doesn't particularly like
the way his father is leading the Brooklyn pack and he has hopes to change that."

"How?" He sounds so confused, but also giddy; he had never liked William, this was his chance to change that.

"I can't say anything now. But Jesse, his son, told us to meet him at the hunting ground. Two days from now, we'll go up
there, and talk shop."

"Okay. I can do that. Should I meet you there, or?"

"No. Come here, we'll go up together. I still don't fully trust Jesse and I want to at least have some form of backup."

"Sure thing, Alf."

Quinn chuckles, "I've missed you, Max."

"I like this," Rachel comments as she leaves the bedroom, "You, walking around in just socks. This should become a
common occurrence."

Quinn flicks an eyebrow up, "Oh?"

Rachel smirks as she dusts the remaining crumbs off of her hands, "Mhm"

"Well, only if you do it too."

"So it's a rule?" Rachel leans against the counter, fingers already teasing a button on one of her father's old button down
shirts, "No clothes in the house except for socks?"
The thought is enough to make Quinn's brain melt. Q yaps happily; the more naked, the better. It's always a deep hunger
to see her mate naked; to see what she had been born with, to see that smooth tan skin, to see that mark that she had left
their years ago and watch it never fade from view. But damn, wouldn't she be constantly turned on? She'd never leave the
apartment.
"Perhaps in the summer, right now it's too cold in this apartment."

"You're hot blooded." Rachel dead pans, fingers already popping a button. "It's not an excuse."
"You're not hot blooded, baby."

Rachel watches as Quinn licks her lips as another button is popped, "You'd keep me warm, I'm sure?"
God damn on a donut. Who knew Rachel's voice could go that husky?

"And how would I do that?" She asks, closing in on her girlfriend, only the counter standing between them. She's always
been happy with her body, and the fact she's stood around in only a pair of socks doesn't make her feel self conscious. If
anything, it's freeing; it reminds her of running through the open woods as a wolf. Free, without a care in the world.
The singer leans forward, pressing her chest to the countertop, breasts pushing together as she stares Quinn dead in the
eye and says, "You could fuck me?"
Quinn gulps; she actually gulps, "Oh?" Wow, she may be hot bloodied, but fuck, did it just get hotter in here?

"Mhm" And then she's pushing away from the counter, circling it, hands on the waistband on her short shorts, "You know
how hot I get when make me come again and again and again"

Quinn aches to touch her, her fingers itch to reach out and rip Rachel free from her clothes, but instead, she clenches her
fists and holds them at her sides. She's enjoying this way too much; she wants to see what her girlfriend has concocted in
that suddenly sultry brain of hers.
"I'm sure you've felt how hot I get when your mouth is on me," Fingers tease that one button that confines Quinn's prize,
"How you set my body alight when you suck on my clit."
"Fuck," Quinn gasps as that one button is popped. Her body is visibly shaking, she can feel herself shaking and she
knows Rachel can see it too. The singer is smirking, the tip of her index finger trailing across the waistband of her cotton
panties. "Rach."
"I'm sure you could keep me warm." Rachel refuses to drag her eyes away from her girlfriend; she knows the effect she's
having and she soaks each and every second of it up. It's not every day she has one up on Quinn Fabray and her Alpha
wolf. "Just a little contact" And she's moving forward, pressing Quinn back against the counter, the marble digging into
the bottom of her spine. She barely registers it, because Rachel is turning, back to her and sliding her shorts down the
length of her legs.
"Fuuuck," Quinn watches, eyes glazed as her girlfriend's ass comes to view, covered with, ironically enough, white cotton
panties. She wants to reach out and grab it; grab both swells and spank them hard, hard enough to tease but also to teach
her mate a lesson. There's only one top in this household.

But before she can even will her hands to move, Rachel is grinding her ass back, moving to a rhythm she creates in her
head, only for her own listening pleasure. The grinds are long and torturous, the swell of her ass dragging right up Quinn's
rapidly glistening slit. All Quinn can do is use those hands that she wished would work before, to grab onto the countertop
for dear life.

Each grind, long and hard, hit her in all the right places, and the delicious heat that engulfs her own body only seems to
excel when Rachel, in one particular grind, swirls her hips, ass grinding in a tight circle against her clit before stopping to
grind up against the length of her again.
"Jesus Christ, fuck, holy"
She barely hears a chuckle over the gentle roar in her ears, "God won't help you now, Quinn." Rachel glances over her
shoulder, locks eyes with Quinn and smirks, "Take what you deserve, Quinn. Come on my ass."

Her fingers are digging so hard into the marble, so harshly in fact, she's sure her fingernails are chipping away the layers.
She holds on for dear life, feeling each grind, feeling those panties rapidly soak from her own come. The circular grinds to
her clit only come one every few grinds, and it's only when she whines for them, or breathlessly pleads with her mate for it,
does Rachel push harder, ass pushing down harder against that straining and twitching clit.

"I need moreGod dammit, Rachel, just fuck me."

Her head is pushed back, throat strained as she forces breath into her lungs. The pleasure is so unbelievably good, and it
feels as if it'll engulf her body, but it's nowhere near enough to make her come. It's just a teasing hot torture that destroys
her from the inside out and she knows that Rachel is trying to assert her dominance by teasingand fuck, she's doing a
good job.
"You know how I like to be prepared" Rachel reaches behind Quinn, hand clutching a small remote and Quinn's eyes
narrow, "And make everything a show."
"Rachel?"

The singer clicks a button and the remote and throws it across the living room, landing with a thump on the couch.
Drums and guitars fills the air, and Quinn for the life of her, has never heard the song. She can barely think right now,
especially with the way Rachel drags her hands up her own body and runs her hands through her brown curls, shaking
them out and practically lap dancing and grinding against her.

The pounding beat fills the air and she knows there's going to be a noise complaint filed through their door sometime in
the future, but fuck, she can hardly bring herself to care, because Rachel's ass is grinding into to the beat of the song and
the beat is mind numbingly fucking fast.
And Rachel is joining in with the lyrics, her voice, so powerful, but so soft at the same time, takes a spine tingling rougher
tone and it sends electric shocks straight down to her clit.

My girlfriend's a dick magnet, my girlfriend's gotta have it

She's hot, can't stop, up on stage, doing shots
Tip the man, he'll ring the bell, get her drunk, she'll scream like hell
Dirty girl, getting down, dance with guys from outta town
Grab her ass, acting tough, mess with her, she'll fuck you up
No one really knows if she's drunk or if she's stoned
But she's coming back to my place tonight.
Quinn groans and rocks her hips against Rachel's ass, matching the pounding rhythm and almost screams when the
chorus hits because Rachel pushes forcefully against her, grabbing at her own breasts through her open shirt and rubs her
hips hard and fast against her aching cunt.

She likes to shake her ass, she grinds it to the beat

She likes to pull my hair when I make her grind her teeth
I like to strip her down, she's naughty to the end
You know what she is, no doubt about it
She's a bad, bad girlfriend!
Her hands snap out, grabbing that working waist, and she grits her teeth when Rachel glances over her shoulder, eyes
smouldering, lips wet. She's never looked so fucking delicious and she whines when the ache in her clit shoots through
her body. She's close, she needs just a little bit more; just a little bit more of that perfect voice and an equally fucking
perfect ass against her.

Red thong, party's on, love this song, sing along

Come together, leave alone, see you later back at home
No one really knows if she's drunk or is she's stoned
But she's coming back to my place tonight
I say no one really knows just how far she's going to go
But I'm gonna find out later tonight.
And that punching chorus once more that she silently pleads for kicks back in, and Rachel's hips work twice as hard, the
swell of her ass pushing hard against Quinn's soaking slit, working that clit in tight circles, just the way her girlfriend likes it
best.

She likes to shake her ass, she grinds it to the beat

She likes to pull my hair when I make her grind her teeth
I like to strip her down, she's naughty to the end
You know what she is, no doubt about it
She's a bad, bad girlfriend!
And she's so fucking close; she can feel it building right in the pit of her stomach and she knows that this orgasm is going
to rip her apart and she isn't sure if she's going to be able to put herself back together again. Rachel has such a unique
way of tearing her apart, and she's so fucking happy that she's dating such a musically inclined girlfriend because fucking
to music was probably invented by the sex God's themselves.

Doesn't take her long to make things right

But does it make her wrong to have the time of her life?
The time of her life
My girlfriend's a dick magnet, my girlfriend's gotta have it.
"So close," She cries out over the music and she reaches up to threat her fingers through Rachel's hair, pulling her head
back against her shoulder. She leans down and latches her mouth onto the mark she'd left; the territorial mark that proved
to everyone that Rachel was hers. Rachel screams out, trying to compose herself as she feels a clash of tongue and teeth
against that aching mark.

She's a gold digger, now you figure out it's over, pull the trigger
Future's finished, there it went, savings gone, the money spent
Look around and all I see is no good, bad and ugly
Man, she's hot and fixed to be the future ex-Miss Connelly.
Hips working double time, ass burning from the heat that Quinn is exuding, panties stuck to her ass, soaked with come,
pleasure wrecking her own body as Quinn sucks, bites, licks and nips at her mark. Words jumble from the song in her
head and just for a moment, she feels like she can't stop, but she moves her hands back and threads them through
Quinn's hair, holding her close as she continues; continues her song and continues on her way to their mutual climax.

She likes to shake her ass, she grinds it to the beat

She likes to pull my hair when I make her grind her teeth
I like to strip her down, she's naughty to the end
You know what she is, no doubt about it
She's a bad, bad girlfriend! She's a bad, bad girlfriend!
She's a bad, bad girlfriend!
And hips working against a soaking slit, mouth sucking and biting at an already sensitive mark, pounding beat, beautiful
rough voice and an electric guitar brings everything to their climax. Quinn groans and screams against tan skin, her
orgasm ripping straight through her body and sending pulsing electric shocks against her clit as her come coats her
girlfriend's already wet ass.

Rachel clutches hard, almost ripping at her girlfriend's hair as her hips work the air, humping nothingness as her climax
shoots straight through her body. Every muscle tense, mouth open, she screams as an influx of pleasure engulfs every
inch of her body.
She almost feels the trickle of her own come slide down her inner thigh, and the mark on her collarbone throbs deliciously
where Quinn is panting heavily against it. The orgasms Quinn gives her is enough to wreck her, but when the blonde does
something to that mark, it almost feels like a little death.

A little death she wishes to have over and over again.

"Wow," Rachel pants, dropping her head forward, chin propped on her heaving chest.

"I don't know what all that was," Quinn weakly flails her hand, muscles floppy, "But it needs to happen again sometime in
the future. I propose tomorrow afternoon."

Rachel snorts, "We both have school tomorrow."

"Morning then."

"Early rehearsals."
"Fuck my life."

"I'll fuck you after school, though?" Rachel smirks slyly, feeling Quinn softly suck at her mark, "I take it that proposal
meets your approval?"

Quinn just hums and pulls her close, "Rachel Berry, get your ass in that bedroom, this instant."
"Yes ma'am."

"Where the fuck is he?" Max grumbles, dipping his chin into the collar of his jacket, "I might be hot bloodied but this is
taking the piss."

Quinn surverys the area, looking from left to right and back again. It's unnervingly quiet; too quiet in fact. The whole thing
reeks of a trap, but she's willing to give Jesse the benefit of the doubt, even if she still doesn't completely trust him.

She knew that Jesse was genuine on the phone; he sounded hurt in all the right places and determined in others. Quinn
didn't know if he was just a terrific actor, or if he truly was genuine. But she was willing to go into this whole situation with
an open mind.
"I don't like this," Max huffs, "I don't like this at all."

"Just relax," Quinn doesn't tear her eyes away from the path that leads toward them. Jesse should come over the crest of
that hill any second now, "Relax and keep a cool head. If this is a ambush, we run. We don't fight, we just run."

"Fuck that, I'm fighting."

"Do you want to die?" Quinn growls, neck snapping to the side as she glares at him, "We're only two wolves, Max. We're
not strong enough."
"You're an Alpha."
"I may be an Alpha but I'm not at full strength yet. I can only fight off so many."

Max sighs, burying his chin further into his jacket, "I still don't like this."
Quinn rolls her eyes, "I don't either but-," She takes one almighty sniff and her head snaps back toward the path, "I know
that smell."
Both tense, Quinn, half ready to turn, Max, poised forward with fists clenched, they watch the crest of the hill. Slowly, brown
hair falls into view. A mid-size wolf, dark brown with a lighter brown muzzles walks toward them. She knows it's Jesse;
something about the way he carried himself, even as a wolf, gave him a way. He looked no different to Max's black wolf,
perhaps only a little smaller in length.

Dark brown, almost black eyes, stare at them as the wolf comes closer.

Guys, it's me.

Max sighs, but Quinn sniffs around to make sure no one else is around. There's another wolf about six hundred yards
away, but apart from that, there's no one else around to bother them. And only after a few tense minutes, does Quinn lower
her defences and relax her muscles.

You guys didn't trust me. That's understandable. But we can't just stand around. We need to talk business. Transform
and we'll go for a hunt.
Max and Quinn quickly glance at each other and nod. It'd been a while since they had both hunted together; perhaps it was
time to rectify that.

Don't hunt in a group. Lets have a five hundred yard gap between us at all times. Quinn, take the centre, Max to the
right, and I'll take the left. We can still keep in contact with that distance.
Q huffs and turns her head to Max, who barks in favour of the plan. He may belong the Jesse's pack, but he doesn't
necessarily want to be seen with him. Max trots off first, disappearing into the trees. Quinn waits behind and watches as
Jesse disappears in the opposite direction, and only when she feels them a few hundred yard from her, does she forge
forward, snuffing at the dirt. She may be here to talk, but she can already smell a catch with her name written all over it.

My father knows I'm hunting. I told him I was hunting with a Brooklyn Alpha. Max, you'll have to back me up if any
questions pop up.
There's silence for a beat, Fine, I suppose.

Quinn, my father assumes you're still in your borough. But beware, there are Brooklyn wolves hunting at this moment in
time. Try to keep your head down.
Q huffs, pissed at being told what to do. She's the wolf with most authority here, but she taps into what Quinn tells her to
say and begrudgingly, she says it, Fine.

I managed to recruite another two people in the past week. It's not many, but it's better than nothing. They're spreading
the word on the underground circuit. My father doesn't know much about it, he's pretty much oblivious, but we still have
to use caution.
I still don't understand why you're going against him. Max voice rings fresh in her ears, almost as if he's hunting right by
her side. I understand why, because he's a prick, but he's your dad.

There's a long pause, and for one minute, Q thinks Jesse has disappeared off the radar, but then his voice is back,
strong, but not as strong as before.

He's my father, but he's not my dad. He's never really been there for me and I don't want to stand by and watch him rule
over the Brooklyn pack by using fear and threats. I refuse.
Q huffs, I'm not getting involved in something you haven't thought through. Tell us now, truthfully, that if worst comes to
worst, you wouldn't think twice about having one of us kill him.
In the time it takes Jesse to respond, Q has covered almost a square mile of forest, If that's what it took to protect my
pack, I wouldn't think twice.
Dude, I applaud that. It'll be hard, but I don't like the way Brooklyn is being run either. I was threatened by one of your
dad's cronies after he found out I was hanging out with Quinn. I was lucky I only came out of it with a bruised stomach.
Q stops in her tracks, What?

I was pretty much kicked in the stomach until I agreed never to meet up with you again. Then I was told to call you and
tell you never to come back to Brooklyn. He uses fear as his only way of leadership and it needs to stop.
She hears Jesse howl softly, We need to start with the plan immediately. My father knows nothing at the moment, but
because of the hold he has over the Brooklyn pack, many wolves are keeping themselves hidden. It's hard to get
supporters right now. It'll probably take longer than anticipated to get the numbers we need.
How many do we need? Q asks, peering up at a birds nest high up in the trees. She can smell at least three birds in that
one nest and needs to eat them.
There are around five thousand werewolves in Brooklyn alone. They don't have to be particuarly strong, after all,
strength in numbers. I'd say a few hundred. Then we can work in groups to weed out my father's followers.
A few hundred? I know you're dad is strong, but fuck, do we need that many?
Q can't help but agree with her best friend. He's only one man, do they really need that many wolves to overtake one man?

It's not just my father. It's his followers too. For example, Rick, the barman at Sidebar. He's my father's lapdog. He
wouldn't dare turn his back on him. We need to weed out his followers one by one. And trust me, there will be plenty of
them.
She hears Max almost scoff, So what do you think, Alf? You think we can get that many followers?

It's not entirely impossible, but it seems to be getting there. They need, at the most, two hundred wolves to weed out
William's followers one by one, and then have one wolf's back as they fight William from his position as Alpha. It would
take a lot of planning, it would take clockwork scheduling; it would take a lot of man hours that she wasn't sure she had.

She had college, work and she had Rachel. Oh God, Rachel, could she really protect Rachel and do this at the same
time? Would Rachel be targeted for such acts of aggression against one of the strongest Alpha's in New York City?

Q howls and shakes her body, snow shaking free from her body, I need Rachel to be safe.

I can have the Beta of my pack take care of her when you're not there. Would you prefer that?
She does prefer that, but she certainly doesn't like the thought of having another man near her girlfriend. Of course, a wolf
could not take another wolf's mate once they had been marked, but jealousy still lingered inside of her.

If he keeps his hands to himself, then yes, I would prefer that. You told me he was a strong wolf, and I need strength if
he's going to protect Rachel.
There's a pause from Jesse, Does this mean you're a part of the resistance?

Silence between the three of them. Max and Quinn had yet to agree to joining, but when Jesse, far away from them both,
howls into the mid afternoon sun, Q makes up her mind. Max's deeper howl joins in only seconds later.
And a minute later, Q lifts up her head, points her snout to the sun and lets out a long and piercing howl. The wolves in the
area shudder as they hear her piercing Alpha howl, and bow down when three wolves voices melt together to make one
terrifying powerful and prideful howl.
*Chapter 20*: Silence Before the Storm
She dives in and out of the shower, tied down by time restraints, and pulls on clothes like it's the last thing she'll ever do.
Rachel, lying comfortably in bed, hears none of this; she doesn't hear the way Quinn's jean zipper echoes in the bathroom,
or how she howls lightly when she stubs her toe on the bedside table as she collects her phone. The girl is all but
comatose and Quinn counts her lucky stars that Rachel is one of the deepest sleepers known to man.
These early morning hunting sessions had become a common occurrence; a routine. Every wolf they had managed to
persuade over to their side went to the forest at a specific time and hunted as one. They perfected battle techniques, they
worked on their strength, pushed their power up to levels they never thought they could gain. They were slowly becoming
one unit, one powerful unit that even William St. James and his henchman would find hard to take down.
But Quinn knew not to count it as a victory just yet; getting the acceptable numbers for their resistance group had been
harder than anticipated. Jesse had tried his hardest; using his leverage as the Alpha's son to try and garner support, but
they mostly saw him as a snitch, a snitch for his father that would turn them in if they agreed. Max had tried too, and when
he wasn't getting into physical fights with other wolves as they called him out on bullshit, he was alienating them away
when he called them chicken shits and wusses.

The time they were putting into the whole operation, but having no numbers to show for it, was beginning to grate on them
all. It was only when Max went around Brooklyn and the surrounding borough's with the Brooklyn Beta, Scott, did the
supporters slowly begin to trickle in.
Scott may not have been smart, but there was something about having a six foot, 220 pound man that had people readily
agreeing. His status helped where Jesse's couldn't, and together, they made a fantastic team.
Quinn, on the other hand, had used the time to train. She had flown over to Ohio for a three day weekend and had Alfred
train her in everything he knew. He never asked questions, and she never expecting him to; the man was like a mage, he
knew everything. He may have lived in the small town of Lima, Ohio, but he was a leader and a leader made it his
business to know the goings on of the wolf community.
He had trained her, almost brutally, attacking her, sending her against packs of wolves that had trained with him for years.
Men and women almost double her age attacked her from every direction, never letting up, never wavering in their
objective. Quinn had taken them all down.

It had taken over three hours of fighting, but she had done it. She had taken six wolves down, Alfred included, and luckily,
she had healed by the time she had gone back home. Of course, Rachel would ask questions if she turned up at the door
with bites and bloody scratches covering almost every inch of her body.
Alfred had told her to rest, to conserve her strength before training again when she returned to New York, but she only took
one day's bed rest before she was out training with Jesse and Max again. She was exhausted, and Max picked up on it,
but she refused to take his advice to go home to rest. She pushed her body to limits she never knew existed, Q howled in
agony and in pure exhaustion whenever Quinn pushed her to run just that little bit faster, just to bite that little bit harder. She
knew the stresses she was putting on her body, on Q's wolf form too, but she was too restless to sit at home and rest.

She was exhausted, so was Jesse, Max and Scott, but they all forged forward together. What sort of Alpha would she be if
she was the first one to bow out? Hell no. An Alpha never bows out from a fight; they fight for what they believe in, they fight
for their pack. She would have to push herself harder than any of the others, she would have to stick at it, she would have
to come out as the winner.

Her pride, and most importantly, her ego, wouldn't want anything else.
Her phone buzzes in her hand and she flicks a glance down, swiping her thumb as a new text fills her screen.

We're going to try Formation 12 today. You up for it?

It's Jesse and she suddenly feels a pressure in her chest. Formation 12 was one of the most difficult fighting formations
they had created, but proved to have results. They had tried it out only two times before, and the first time, one wolf had
almost snapped his neck. They didn't use it for another two months. The second time, however, while using the formation
around a male, and quite frankly, huge deer, Quinn had almost killed Max.
She had lunged, but not in time with the others; she had been exhausted, hungry and wanted to go home. She hadn't been
in tandem with their counts and lunged just a beat too late. The deer was already down as she reached it, and with at the
speed she was going, with her jaw bared wide, Max's throat was in her path.
She had collapsed into him, jaw wrapped around his neck, and brought him down right along with her. She remembered
the taste of his blood in her mouth, the way he howled in agony as he tried to kick free. She had been disorientated, half
dead from exhaustion, and it had taken almost fifteen seconds for her to actually open up her jaw again to let him free.

Max had bled. There was so much blood. Luckily, Scott was a trained medic and had put pressure to the wound before
more blood had managed to escape. Max's wolf genes had managed to stop the bleeding only minutes after the wound
had opened, but he was out of commission for almost a week.
They hadn't used the formation since, at Quinn's rule, but it had almost been three months since that fateful day and she
knew it was about time to perfect it. It was their strongest formation, and the formation they were planning to use against
William; she couldn't just disregard it.
Her heart tells her no, but her head tells her yes. Q, powerful as ever, strong and prideful in the back of her mind, cowers
away. Q had called herself responsible, but Quinn knew from the very beginning that it was hers. She hadn't slept, she
hadn't recuperated like Max and Alfred had told her. She had kept going and she paid the price; a price that now scarred
Max's neck.
With a sigh, she looks up at her sleeping girlfriend and smiles softly. The yearly play, which Rachel auditioned and starred
in every year, had finally exhausted her. Rachel was dead to the world, a small trickle of drool marking the pillow. With a
smile, she leans down and presses a soft kiss to her mate's temple. "I love you."

Rachel just grumbles and shifts, hand clutching the pillow tightly.

We'll see, she types as she leaves the apartment, closing the door with a soft click.

Max is sat in the dirt when she arrives, picking up fist full's of dry dirt and dropping it back down to the ground. His eyes
don't even seem focused; he seems to be doing it out of necessity. He's staring into space and it takes a few clicks of her
fingers in front of his face to snap him out of it.
"Shit, sorry." His voice is gruff and he clears his throat with a soft cough, "Sorry." He clambers to his feet and Quinn
watches every single movement his body makes as he stumbles to regain balance.
"Are you drunk?"

He wipes the dirt from his palms onto his jeans and shakes his head, "No."
Her eyebrow flicks up, "Are you high?"

Max just stares at her, almost questioning her if she is in her right mind. But his pupils are completely blown, he's sweaty
and it's not even that warm out. His hair is matted and unkempt, his nature olive tone almost pasty and unhealthy.

"Max, what's wrong? You look like you're dying." She cups his neck, stiffening when she feels the scars on his neck
beneath her fingertips. The scars are so unbelievably smooth; almost baby soft. She takes a deep breath to calm herself,
to not snatch her hands back and run. She holds him there, stares into his eyes and he stiffens when he sees the flash of
gold. At first he feels as if she'll attack, but there's a softness to those eyes; Q cares for him too.

"I just, I can't" He shakes his head, eyebrows furrowed, "I can't think straight, Quinn. My head, I can't, I'm so confused
and-," He's cut off with Quinn pulling him forward, slamming his body against hers as she wraps her arms around his
waist. Eyes wide, hands held out behind her back, he stands stiff against her, but then he melts, eyes wet as he clutches
at her back.

"What's wrong?" He hears whispered against his neck, "Tell me, Max."
He pulls back and wipes at his eyes, "I've never felt like this before, Quinn. I swear, I can't think straight, I'm not eating, I'm
not sleeping. I feel like I'm going insane."
Something pulls inside of her and Q howls softly, nudging her, reminding her. She had felt just like that back in school,
back when
"Max, are you urging?"

His eyes go wide, "H-How did you?" Then he stops and chuckles humourlessly, "You would have known, you've gone
through it."

"Who? Who is it?" She takes a step forward to him, hands strong and calming on his restless shoulders, "Girl?" Then she
pauses and flicks an eyebrow up with a smirk, "Guy?"

"Dude, it was one time!"

Quinn chuckles and slowly, she begins to see her friend slowly climb out from within his shell. She plays to it a little more,
hoping to pull him out just that little bit farther. "Oh sure, every night for almost two weeks."

"I was experimenting!" His hands flail and Quinn pulls back, chuckling, "Guys my age do that, okay?"
She's laughing so hard, and his face is the picture of perfection, mouth agape, eyes wide, arms flailing. She snorts. She
cups her hand over her nose and mouth and stares right back at Max, who slowly, quietly, begins to chuckle.
"Did you just snort?"
"Shurrup," She mumbles behind her hand and Max bursts out into laughter. She drops her hand with a smile when he has
to hold himself up, hands braced on his knees as he hunches over. "Feel better?"

He looks up at the soft question and smiles slightly, "Yeah, a little."

"So" She asks when he's finally regained control of himself, "Who is it?"

He lets out one long winded sigh and stuffs his hands into his jacket, "I don't even know."
Her eyes narrow, "Wait, what?"

"Exactly, hence why I can't sleep." He shrug his shoulders, "My wolf wants to be with her so badly, and he won't shut the
fuck up long enough to let me sleep. I don't know who she is, I don't know her name, I haven't even spoken to her."

"Please tell me you've at least seen her and haven't been falling for people in your dreams again."
He bites his lip, "It was one time" Then he rolls his shoulders and drops his had back, looking up to the sky, half cloudy
with oncoming rain, "I see her from time to time. The coffee shop, the park, near work. It's killing me."
"Are you're sure it's urging?"

"I feel the exact same way you feltright?"

She nods with a sigh, "Yeah. You are." Then a pause, "We can't train with you in this condition. We need to find this girl."

"Quinn, I can train." His voice almost cracks under the pressure he puts on his voice, adamant but not sure in himself, "I
can train, don't stop practice just because-,"

"I'm calling quits on this training session," She's already pulling out her phone, "I'll text Jesse and tell him another time, that
another issue has come up."

"I can sort it out myself, Quinn. Trust me."

"Maybe," She pockets her phone after sending off the text, "But I'm your best friend and I want to help you."

He just smiles and hugs her.

"It's not even that bright, why are you wearing sunglasses?" They're at the Washington Square Park, sat on one of the
benches that overlooks most, but not all, of the park. It's busy as all hell, to say it's December, and even though she doesn't
know who the hell she's looking for, she knows this is going to be harder than she anticipated.

"And where did that newspaper come from?"

Quinn glances up from the paper, "Undercover."

"We're not in an episode of The L Word."

Sunglasses are pushed down a perfectly bridged nose and hazel eyes gleam with mirth. Max swallows in reflex and looks
away, "It was one time. I was bored and there was a re-run."
"Sure." Quinn glances back to her paper before glancing up over the top to see if anyone new had entered the park. It
seemed fruitless, simply because she had no idea who she was looking for and Max had only giving her a vague
description. "Mr. I have a box set in my bedroom."

"A girlfriend left it behind."

"Hmmm," She replies, noncommittally, because she's heard him quote the show more than enough times to count. "So
see her yet?"
He glances around again, eyes wide, hopeful that she's nearby, but he just frowns after a sweep of the area, "No. I can't
smell her either. There's three werewolves here and I can only smell them."
"Overpowering." Quinn hums, shuts and folds her paper and dumps it on the bench beside her, "Where else have you
seen her?"
"Uh. Comic book store? I always see her walk by at the end of my shift. Butthat's only on Wednesdays."

"That helps," She comments with a roll of her eyes, "Seeing as though it's Saturday. Where else?"
"The Starbucks on Columbus Avenue."

"That's near Juilliard, what are you doing up there?"

Max looks sheepish, "Coffee."
"There's Starbucks all over New York, especially near NYU. I could tell you three off the top of my head. Why go near
Juilliard for coffee?"
"The coffee's nicer there."

"It's Starbucks." She deadpans, ripping the sunglasses from her face, "It's the same everywhere."
"I" He scratches the back of her neck, "It's gonna sound creepy."

"I've urged before. I know what creepy is."

Max chuckles, then it dies out, and that sheepish expression washes over his face once more, "Well uh, I've kinda been
haunting the place. I was with my roomie, he has a friend from Juilliard, and we were on Broadway. I saw her and I
followed her. She disappeared into the Starbucks up on Columbus."

"You followed her?"

He frowns, "I'm not lucky enough to urge for someone who goes to the same school as me, Quinn. I don't get to see her
everyday. I take what I can get."
Quinn slaps her palm on her thigh, then taps her fingers, "Looks like we know where we're going then."

"But-," She's already out of her seat, zipping her jacket back up. Suddenly he's worried, what if he does see the one he
urges for? How will he make conversation? Will he even be able to control himself? What if he lunges for her? Oh God,
what if he starts talking about comic books and she thinks he's a total geek? "Quinn."
"C'mon."

"I look like shit," Max brushes his hand through his hair; old wax has matted his hair and it leaves an unhealthy shine to his
black locks. "Seriously, I look like a hobo."

"Not my fault you wouldn't take my advice and go back to your dorm for a shower."
He sighs pitifully and looks through the window into Starbucks; it's jam packed and there isn't a seat free. The line is
almost out the door and from what he can see and smell, the girl he urges for isn't nearby.
"I just wanted to see her." He sounds so helpless, almost child like and Quinn's eyes soften as she looks at him. She
knows the feeling; your heart feels as if it'll tear in two inside your chest if you don't see the one you urge for, it feels as if
you're going completely out of your mind when they aren't nearby. She had gone through the exact same channels while in
school with Rachel. The taunting, the endless pornographic scrawls, the slushies, it was just to see her face, to have a
reason to be in the same vicinity of Rachel. She and Q needed to have that closeness; to smell her, to devour that scent
silently, to satisfy the hunger that buried itself deep inside her.
Her hand clutches around her phone as Max looks away from her and back toward the window. Q whimpers, silently
begging. She wants the closeness once more. Her iPhone is out of her pocket and almost automatically, as if Q is
controlling her, she types out a simple message and sends it off to her girlfriend.

"Wanna go in?"
"Can we just" He shakes his head, "I can't be around a lot of people right now. If she's nearby, I'll smell her a lot better
from out here."
Quinn nods, "Sure." She looks around, "Guess we'll just stand here." She pushes herself against the brick of the building
and glances out into the street. Max is restless, naturally, pacing in front of her, barely looking up as people check his
shoulder as they pass. His mind is fixed on the woman he urges for and Quinn can't help but see herself in him; she had
felt the same way every night at that damn park in Lima. Only Rachel existed in those moments, her mind was only
focused on that almost tiny looking woman on that swing.

There's a faint buzzing against her side and she pulls her phone from her pocket, thumb swiping across the screen.

I love you too, baby! Where are you? :[

She smiles and types back, On a mission. Super secret style.

"You okay?"
Max shrugs his shoulders, "Shitting my pants."

"I would tell you to calm down, but I know that's gonna be worthless advice. I've been through what you're feeling and it
sucks, it really does suck, but you won't be able to do anything if you don't control yourself." He turns to her, chin to his
chest as he looks up at her, "Calm down. Relax. Breathe. And focus your thoughts. That's what my mom and dad taught
me and it worked. I got the most beautiful girl in the world by my side, as my mate."

Max smirks softly, "Sorry Quinn, but I think my girl will give Rachel a run for her money."
Q growls, territorial, protective and Quinn chuckles, "If you say so, but nothing will change my mind."

A quiet buzz erupts against her hand and smiles, "You texting your girl?" She hears Max ask and she nods as she reads.

On a mission? Hm, how interesting. And may I ask what your mission is?
Found out this morning that Max is urging. Problem is, he doesn't know who the hell she is. Trying to find out
who she is. Currently haunting a Starbucks.

He's urging? So cute! Bring me back a Soy Frappuchino! xxx

I'll think about it ;] xo

"I hope I can get what you have."

Her head snaps up and she pockets her phone, "Huh?"

"Your face lights up whenever she texts you. I hope I can get that sort of reaction, that sort of love, from my girl."
"We can try," She smiles, not wanting to put a dampener on the mood. In some cases, when a werewolf urges for another
wolf, or a human, those feelings may not be returned. She just hopes this isn't the case. "We'll try our best. But first, I'm
gonna go buy you a hairbrush 'cos your hair is disgusting."

"Where the hell have you been?" Max's eyes are frantic, arms flailing again, sweating profusely as she walks toward him,
hairbrush in hand.

"I wasn't spending eight bucks on a hairbrush. Had to find a cheaper one. Here." She hands it to him, but he doesn't take
it, he's on edge, jaw clenched, eyes almost close to tears. "What's wrong?"

"She's here. She's in there!" He points, and he keeps pointing as he continues, "She walked straight past me, looked at
me and put a fucking quarter in my hand! She thinks I'm homeless and fishing for change for coffee!"

"Look, relax." She pushes his arm down and puts the brush calmly into his hand, "Brush your hair. Take a few deep
breaths and walk in. I'll be in the line, I'll try open up a convo."

"'Kayokay" He takes one deep lungful of air and with a shaking hand, works the brush through his unruly lock, "Okay,
go in. Go in and try your hardest okay? You can't suck at this. You need to do this for me and it needs to be-,"

"Max!" He sighs, "Relax." She pats him on the shoulder. "I know how to do this." She glances through the window, "Which
one is she?"

"Bobble hat, brown coat."

Her eyes narrow in on the woman in question; quite beautiful, she has to admit. "You have good taste."

He smirks.
"Now chill out and make yourself look presentable. I'll open up a line." With an air of authority, she pulls open the door and
walks in, a blast of coffee scented air hitting her square in the face as the door shuts behind her.

Okay, so she can't do this. She's two places behind the girl in question and she has no idea how to get up the line, or how
to talk to the woman without seeming like a stalker. She was going to ask for a coffee recommendation, but why ask a girl
two places up when you could ask the person in front of you?

"Fuck."
The man in front of her looks at her with a furrowed brow and she shrugs her shoulders, suddenly miffed, "What?"
He whips his head forward again; good choice, man.

Max has joined her by the time 'his girl' is at the counter, "Have you spoken to her?"
"I was going to ask for a coffee recommendation, but it seemed a little awkward." She watches as the girl heads toward
the collection counter and she smirks, "Pretend you're waiting for a coffee. Go stand beside her and start a conversation."
He rips his eyes away from her, "Aren't you coming with?"
She shrugs, "Gotta get my girl a Soy Frappuchino."
"I can't. I can't do this. I'm freaking out." He blanches, "What if I throw up on her?"

"Max, you won't throw up on her. Just take a deep breath and act casual."
"Casual? I walk into everything like a bull in a china shop and you're asking me to act casual?"

"Just do it." Her eyes flick to the girl, "Perhaps before she collects her coffee and leaves?"
He almost mows her over he passes by her that fast.

He drifts his fingers through his hair. It's still matted and the texture is almost disturbing, but that's what you get for not
showering for two days. He takes a quick sniff of his armpits, and he nods, he doesn't smell completely disgusting. He
takes a step forward but then pauses; oh God, what if she can smell him? What if she does think he's some hobo off the
street begging for a cup of coffee?

He looks over his shoulder and locks eyes with Quinn who's stood texting on her phone, eyes concentrated, probably
playing Angry Birds or something to pass the time. She seems to know he's looking at her though, senses it, and she
looks up and locks eyes with him.

You can do this.

She sounds so sure in his mind, so full of faith of him and he smiles. He can do this. Now is not the time to be a wimp, now
is not the time to walk away from something precious, he wouldn't make that mistake again.

He's beside her, feet planting themselves, holding him steady. He breathes heavily through his nose, calming his racing
heart. "Uh," He stuffs his hands in his pocket and glances up at her, but then words allude him. My God, she truly is
beautiful. Long brown locks, the brightest blue eyes he's ever seen. Fuck, she takes his breath away. "What did you
order?"

But there's no reply and he frowns; he really wasn't speaking that quietly. But then he rolls his eyes, white earphones are
stuck in her ears and it's obvious she's too busy concentrating on the book in her hand to actually see that he's looking at
her.
"Fuck," He looks away and then back to her. There's only one thing he can do. Slowly, he backs away, hoping that she
won't glance up at him.

What are you doing? Why are you backing away?

Quinn's voice sounds frantic and he rolls his eyes.

Trust me.
One deep breath, fists clenched, he steps forward and checks the girls shoulder. He almost grins victoriously when the
book thunders with a sharp slap to the floor, but he holds it back, and he just stills himself.

"Oh crap," The girl stares at him, frowning, pulling the earphones from her ears, "Sorry, I didn't mean-," He crouches down
and reaches for the book, "I wasn't looking where I was going, I'm sorry."

The girl sighs, "It's okay." My God, her voice is perfect. He smiles up at her and almost melts when the girl's grown seems
to melt away into a soft smile, "Just, watch where you're going next time, hm?"

He grins, almost goofily as he stands to his feet, her book clenched in his hands, "I will." She smiles and holds her hand
out for the book, which he seems to have forgotten he has in his hands, "Oh! Sorry!"

She takes it from him and tucks it away in her bag, "It's okay." And she's reaching for her earphones again and he panics,
oh shit, do something, he needs to do something.

"So uh, what were you reading?" She looks at him, hand clenched around an ear bud, "You seemed pretty into it."
"Oh, uhm, it's just an old journal I read from time to time."
He grins, an opening, "Oh? Who's it by?"

She seems almost hesitant to tell him, but she just shrugs her shoulders, "My mother. It's pretty much just a big diary."
"Wow, that must be cool." He rocks back on his feet and stuffs his hands into his pockets, "I hope your mom doesn't know
you have it!" It's a joke, and he shows it's a joke with the big gleaming grin he has on his face.
But she isn't laughing, nor smiling, "My mother's dead. She left it to me."
Motherfucking shit. "Oh. Uh. Sorry, I didn't-," Well of course he wouldn't know. Don't act like a stalker. Bring it back. Quinn
is beside the girl, waiting for her order, and she's watching them in the corner of her eye.

"It's okay, you didn't know." She smiles and moves to put her ear bud back in. Quinn notices and takes one big sigh.
"Hey Max, long time no see! Who's your friend?"

Both the girl's head and Max's snap toward Quinn and he praises every deity known to man that Quinn Fabray is his best
friend.

"Yeahlong time no see." He coughs to clear the sudden blockage in the back of his throat, "This isuh" This is it.
She's going to tell him her name and he's going to melt into a giant werewolf puddle on the floor of Starbucks.

The girl blushes and clasps the hand that Quinn held out, "Sophia Richmond."
Quinn blanches and Max frowns. The hell? But then the blonde's face morphs into something completely different. "Nice to
meet you, Sophia." Hazel eyes gleam and Max can smell the sex that Quinn is exuding. This is her battleground, this is
where she excels, she could charm anyone out of their pants if she wanted to. Any Alpha could. "So are you and Max
friends?"
Their hands are still clasped between them and Max growls; Quinn might be helping him but that's still his girl. His wolf
prowls and barks viciously and he tries to reign it in, chanting to himself; Quinn is a friend. She has a mate. Quinn is a
friend. She has a mate.

"Oh no, we just" Sophia glances over her shoulder and Max straightens his back, charming smile on his face, "We just
met, actually." Then her eyes narrow, "You were the guy outside right?" Then it dawns on her, "Oh my God, I thought you
were homeless. I gave you a quarter!"
Sophia turns and apologizes to Max, offering to buy him a coffee as an apology and Quinn smiles, slowly slipping away
into the background as Max takes Sophia up on her offer. She grabs the Soy Frappuchino and digs out her phone, You'll
never guess who he urges for.

Who?
I'm coming home. I'll tell you all about it then. Xo

She's almost out the door when she hears a soft, thank you, right in the back of her mind and she smiles as she opens the
door. Anything for a friend.

"Is this a goddess I see before me?" Rachel clasps her hands to her chest and rather dramatically swoons toward Quinn
who stands with the girl's coffee in her hand by the front door.

"The goddess of coffee, maybe." Quinn jokes, pulling the coffee away when Rachel reaches to grab it. "Kiss first, then
coffee."

Rachel smiles, "That, I can do." She cups Quinn's neck and brings the blonde down, softly brushing her lips against
Quinn's, before enveloping her bottom lip, sucking softly and moaning when Quinn wraps her arms around her back,
careful to hold the coffee out of harms way.
Quinn darts her tongue out and flicks it out against Rachel's upper lip, groaning at the taste of her girlfriend exploding
across her taste buds. It feels unbelievably glorious and it just proves to her how even after four years together, her hunger
for Rachel hasn't suffered. She still craves, still hungers for her girlfriend's scent, touch and taste.

"Fuck," Rachel gasps, blunt nails dragging down Quinn's back. She can barely feel it, thanks to the faux leather jacket, but
it still feels like perfection. Rachel's hands cup her ass, pulling her closer, hip to hip, chest to chest. Rachel openly whines
when she feels the buckle of Quinn's belt press between her legs and the blonde takes the opportunity to suck on the
singer's tongue.

They clasp at one another and Quinn all but prays the coffee would disappear from her hand, and she's pushing Rachel
back, toward the kitchenette counter, but she hears a chuckle before she can put the coffee down and Rachel's pulling
back, taking the coffee from her and popping the straw in her mouth.
"Hmmm, thanks baby."
Quinn takes a few deep breaths, hoping to calm the pounding of her chest and the pounding between her legs. "God
damn on a donut." She brushes her hand through her hair, "Tease."
"Hm," Rachel smirks, biting down on the straw, "So." She takes her girlfriend's hand and pulls her down to the couch, "Tell
me! I want to know everything that happened."
"I uh, well I was meeting him for," She pauses and feels her heart clench, "An early hunting session. We haven't hunted in
ages together. So uh, I met him out by the reserve and he wasn't acting like himself, he was pretty much acting like me
when I was urging, so it wasn't hard to put the pieces together."

Rachel snorts, "Tell me about it. I remember you following me everywhere."

Quinn blanches, "You noticed me?"

"Quinn, I was extremely paranoid about slushy attacks back in school. When Quinn Fabray started following me around
like a lost puppy I think I gave myself a complex."

She has the grace to blush, "Uhsorry."

"It's okay," The singer whispers, dotting a kiss to Quinn's pouting lips, "So go on. Did you find this girl? Who is she?"

"Oh yeah. We found her at a Starbucks near Juilliard of all places."

Rachel frowns and takes one quick sip of her coffee, "Why were you there?"

Quinn shrugs, "Apparently he followed her there. She goes there a lot of the time."
"Huh." She pauses, but just for a beat, "Which one?"
"Columbus Ave."
"Oh God."

"You know who I'm going to say he's urging for, aren't you?"
"It can't be."

"Oh, you don't know the half of it. Who do you think I'm talking about?"
Rachel sighs, "Let me guess. Long brown hair, curled, blue eyes, wears a bobble hat, always reading a book?"

Quinn just smirks and Rachel groans.

"Sophia? Are you kidding me?"

And Quinn laughs, falling back against the couch at Rachel's gaping expression, "Oh my God, that boy has balls if he's
going for that girl. Just" Rachel shudders as Quinn wipes the tears of mirth from her eyes, "Gross."

"Baby, you're only saying that because you don't particularly get on with her. I thought you two were amicable?"
"We are but that doesn't mean that I like her." Rachel groans, "You know, I only promised to be amicable with her because
we always went for the same roles. I couldn't really be antagonistic with my other lead, could I?"
"You did it for the first year."

"Yeah and I almost put a hit out on her."

Quinn snorts, "Babe, don't be so dramatic."

"I'm Rachel Berry, I'm suppose to be dramatic."

Quinn chuckles, "That's quite true. Well anyways," She leans forward and takes a long sip from Rachel's coffee before
pulling back to continue, "I left them there after I opened the conversation. Max was as subtle as an oncoming truck."
"That bad?"

"That boy has no skills whatsoever."

Rachel giggles, "That's probably quite true. When he first met me he talked to me for an hour about comic books because
I told him I liked books. I mean" She rolls her eyes, "How did you get them to talk?"
"I uh," The blonde sighs, "I kinda used my pheromones on her."
Rachel blanches, "I'm sorry, what?"

"It was only a little, just to ease her a little. Her scent gave off that she was a little overwhelmed so I just calmed her down a
little."

The singer nods, lips pursed, "Okay," But then she's getting up, heading toward the kitchen to dump the almost empty
coffee cup. Quinn sighs; she knew Rachel would react like this.
"Baby, don't be mad. It was just a little."
"It doesn't matter if it was just a little, Quinn." The blonde stands from the couch and heads toward her girlfriend, "Your
pheromones are personal to you and you only use them when you're with me. It was our own private thing and you used it
on heron Sophia of all people."

"Baby"
"She had no right to feel that."

Quinn melts and comes up behind her girlfriend, wrapping arms around her waist, dropping her chin to a shaking
shoulder, "I'm sorry baby, I justyou know how difficult it was for me when I was urging. Max has no idea how to deal with
this and he has no one to turn to with this sort of stuff. His mom and dad don't talk to him anymore andyou know."
"Yeah," Rachel sighs after a beat, "Justdon't do it again, okay?" She glances over her shoulder and locks eyes with
Quinn, "Please?"
"Of course, baby." She bumps her nose against Rachel's, "I won't use them again on anyone that isn't you."

Rachel smiles softly, "Thank you."

And they stand there, Rachel content in the arms of her girlfriend, hands clasped over Quinn's as they gently rock from
side to side. Rachel feels so utterly perfect within her girlfriend's arms and she's still shocked, even after all this time with
Quinn, how her fears and discomforts seem to almost melt away when her girlfriend holds her. She wouldn't change the
feeling for the world and she never wishes to. All she wants is for Quinn to hold her forever, just comfort her and love her
like she's the last person she'll ever love.

"It's your birthday tomorrow."

Rachel smiles shyly, "Mhm"

"Twenty-one years old. Excited?"

"Ecstatic if we do what we did to celebrate your twenty-first."

Quinn growls against her neck and bites softly at the skin, "We fucked the entire day away."
Rachel drops her head back with a pleasured sigh, "What a glorious day that was."

"Couldn't have said it better myself. Is there anything you want to do?"
The singer shakes her head, "No, not really. I just want to spend time with you," She brushes the tip of her fingers slowly up
and down Quinn's forearms, letting her nails softly dig into sun kissed skin, "Lazy day in?"
"Sure you don't wanna do anything? We could go out for dinner?"

"We'll just see, hm?" Rachel smiles, pulling away from Quinn's arms, "And stop using your pheromones to get me into
bed. I have a script to go over."

"Dammit."

"Are you training today? Thanks to you and Max disappearing we couldn't train properly. Quinn, you're the Alpha of
this whole operation, you need to be there for each and every training session."
"Don't you think I know that?" She hisses to Jesse, glancing over her shoulder to shut the bedroom door. It's almost one
in the morning and she and Rachel had only just gotten to sleep, "He had urge issues, we needed to sort them out. If he
was too busy going nuts from an unattended urge, he'd have been no use to any of us."

She hears a sigh, pissed off but taking the excuse, "Fine, okay. We need to hunt tomorrow. I propose early morning. I'll
send a text blast out to everyone."
"It's Rachel's birthday. I can't just go out and train."
"Quinn," He doesn't want to sound like he's chastising, because after all, Quinn is a wolf and although she doesn't belong
to his pack, one day she will hopefully control it. He has to be kind and curious, but sometimes it's too fucking hard,
especially when Quinn makes excuses. "Look, I know early mornings suck but we're getting closer to the time to start the
plan. The wolves are getting restless and I had to stop one guy from leaving because he's fed up of waiting around. We
need to train, we need to perfect our techniques and we need to get this started."
The blonde sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, "Fine. Okay. We'll train early morning but
I want to be back for the afternoon, okay? I can't have Rachel be alone on her birthday. It's her 21st."
"Bring her along if it's that much of an issue."

She almost feels her heart skip a beat. Rachel still doesn't know about the plan; they hadn't spoken about it ever since
Rachel had put her foot down and told Quinn she couldn't go through with Jesse's plan. But the power was insatiable to an
Alpha like Quinn, and she knew a person like William needed to be pulled down from his pedestal before he hurt anymore
people, or worse, killed them for wanting to leave Brooklyn.
There were lies, two years worth and Quinn had dug herself so far into the metaphorical hole, she knew she wouldn't be
able to crawl out of it unscathed. She had her reasons for continuing with the plan, but would Rachel see it that way? All
she'd see were the lies, the constant day after day lies that went on for two years and it would cloud her judgement.

Quinn sighs, "She still doesn't know."

"QuinnI told you to tell her a month after we began recruiting. You're an Alpha, she's a human, she can't order you
around."
"I'm not as archaic as your father, Jesse. Rachel is my girlfriend, but first and foremost, she's my mate. She's entitled to
voice her opinion."

"So you let her voice her opinion, but go behind her back and lie to her anyway?" She growls, harshly, deep and heavy
and she almost hears Jesse's breath catch on the line. Her hand is so tense around her phone she feels as if it'll shatter if
she grasps just a tiny bit harder, "I'm not saying this to be cruel, I'm just telling you how I feel. She deserves to know the
truth, you know that."
Tears prick her eyes, "I know"

"Come train with us and bring Rachel along. I'll bring a gift."

"Jesseshe hasn't spoken to you since you step foot in my apartment two years ago. Do you really think she's going to
want to come see you?"

"It's about time I made amends. Especially with what's about to go down, it's better I do it now, before something could
potentially happen to me."
"Don't say that."

"I'm just speaking the truth, Quinn. There will be casualities and there will be deaths. We have to be prepared for that."

Quinn nods, not really caring that Jesse can't see her, "Fine. Send the text."

"Baby?" Quinn's already dressed and looking fresh at six in the morning. After her call with Jesse, she had been unable
to sleep, the weight of her lies bearing down on her shoulders. Everytime she closed her eyes she remembered the times
she had lied to Rachel's face about where she was going, took phonecalls from Jesse and told her that they were from
Alfred or Max, made every excuse known to man for Rachel not to join Quinn on their hunting trips.

The lies ate away at her and it felt like a punch to the gut every time she remembered them. She promised never to lie to
her mate; it was a promise that wolves always made to their mate. And every time Rachel looked at her with those wide
and caring eyes, she died a little bit more on the inside. Rachel held so much faith in her and she stepped on it daily.
Did she really deserve to give Rachel the present that she had bought her? Did she really deserve to see that one in a
lifetime expression on her face? It had been hidden away since Rachel's 20th and never seen the light of day since; there
never seemed to be a right time, and could this really be the right time, with even more lies stacked alongside the old
ones?
"Baby, wake up."

Rachel grumbles, shoving her face deeper into her pillow, "Nooooo, too early, go back to sleep." She reaches her hand
back and pats Quinn's hip, but when she feels the teltale texture of the sweatpants Quinn only wore when hunting, she
almost jolts awake.
"Quinn?" She rubs at her eyes, peering at her girlfriend through the early morning light, "Baby, why are you hunting this
early?"
"I uh" Quinn sighs, "I have to go hunt." Another fucking lie. "I want you to come with me."

"At six am?" The singer dead pans, falling back against the bed, "No, thank you."
"I," She chews on her inner cheek, trying to force back the lie that forces its way up her throat. It's almost automatic now,
the lying; she had been doing it for so long that it seemed like the more common thing to do rather than tell the truth. "It's
your birthday, I have to hunt, I want to spend the morning with you. I don't want to be away from you."
Rachel peers up at her, one eye shut and the other slightly narrowed, the light hurting her eyes, "It's way too early and I
know it's my birthday, but if you have to hunt, you have to hunt."

Another lie forces its way to the surface, but Q howls at her, willing her to tell the truth. It goes against everything that Q
stands for; a wolf drives itself to be truthful, honest, prideful. Quinn and her human traits destroy everything it ever held dear
to itself.
"Will you spend the morning with Q?"

She even narrows her eyes at herself; where the hell did that come from?
Both of Rachel's eyes open and they slide slowly over to Quinn, "Baby"

"It's been two years and I know you've allowed her out from time to time, but it's usually when you're nowhere in the vicinity.
It's your twenty-first, she wants to celebrate that. Even if it's just for a few hours."

Rachel bites at her bottom lip, contemplating. She knew she wouldn't have to wait around for an hour like last time; over
the years Quinn had become quite adept at forcing her wolf into her human body. It was almost within the blink of an eye
that the transformation took place and Rachel didn't particularly know how Quinn had become so adept at it, but she didn't
want to ask questions. Perhaps it was just from ageing and hunting?

But does she really want to spend the morning with the wolf that she once saught solice in and then became terrified of?
Could she really trust Q enough to be around her, especially on such a special day? This was her twenty-first, she would
never get this day back, what if Q ruined it?
"Quinn"

"Please say yes." Quinn pleads, and there's something in the blonde's eyes that seems to hit Rachel square in the chest.
Q is just another part of Quinn and by denying Q, she's denying Quinn. Could she really do that and have a healthy
relationship with her girlfriend? Maybe it was time; time to forgive and forget. Maybe all she and Q needed to do was sit
down and put everything to rest?

"Okay." She nods, sitting up in bed to grab the shirt that Quinn had almost ripped from her body the night before, "Let me
get changed first."

"It's nothing she hasn't seen before." The tone is sarcastic, but laced with humour and Rachel shakes her head with a
smirk.

"Do you really want the first love session to go to your wolf instead of you?"
A pause, she pulls on her shirt, and just when she's pulled it over her chest does she hear, "Fair point." Rachel turns to her
girlfriend and leans in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, smelling the fresh mint blow across her face, "Ready?"
Rachel sighs, "Ready."

Quinn takes her hands, clutching them in hers, thumbs brushing over soft knuckles, soothing, comforting, "See you soon."
The clenching of Quinn's hands against hers only last but a moment, but the pressure is there, and Rachel holds her breath
as Quinn's eyelids float open, hazel changed to a perfect glowing gold.
A soft smile, pearly whites, husky voice, she knows Q has control, "Hello birthday girl."

Q swings into the bathroom, one hand on the door frame, charming smile planted on her lips, "Ready to go?"
Rachel almost jumps, toothbrush lodged in her mouth, "Oh," she spits and rises her mouth out with water before turning to
her girlfriend, "Sure. Ready."
"Rachel," She forces herself not to step back as Q comes toward her; be open minded, that's all she can do with Q
nearby. She has to try and at least be comfortable around the wolf/human hybrid, after all, if things go to plan, she'll be
seeing a lot more of her. "I know you're not comfortable around me, but I'm trying my hardest to be a better wolf for you. It's
all I can do, but I won't truly call myself an Alpha until I have the trust of my mate behind me."
Rachel's eyes soften, her hand planting itself on the edge of the sink, holding herself steady. Why does she feel like
swooning all of a sudden? "Really?"

Q smiles bashfully, "An Alpha may be strong and have the power of a pack at their feet, but an Alpha is nothing without
their mate. They guide one another andI need you to guide me."

"I thought," She clears her throat, feeling Q's breath was over her face, "I thought Alpha's never asked for help?"
"They don't, but I'm willing to change that. I'm not invincible and I'm not the most patient wolf on this planet, but you are. You
make me see things in a different light, a light I can't always see. You're my conscience."
The singer feels herself melt and when Q reaches a hand out to brush the back of her fingers against her cheek, she
doesn't pull away or tense as she usually would. She lets the quiet power and adoration soak from Q and into her own
body; she feels the love that this wolf has for her and it chokes her up.
"Those nightsat the parkI was there." Rachel's eyes flutter closed, letting herself drift into the huskier tones of her
girlfriend's voice, "I stood there and watched as your cried. It tore me apart doing it but I did it because I knew that you
wanted someone, or something, there with you. I never wanted you to be alone. I listened to you cry and I listened to you
talk about your problems because I wanted you to have someone to talk to. I wanted to be there for you."
"You were," The singer finds herself whispering, raising her hand to hold onto Q's, holding it to her cheek, "You were
there."
"I only attacked because I was angry. I was angry because you were hurting and I cared too much to see you hurt," She
says it with such a fierce intensity that Rachel's eyes snap open, locking with gleaming gold, "I never want to see you hurt
again, Rachel, and because of that, I did what my mind was programmed to do."

Rachel chews on her lower lip as she contemplates, and suddenly, everything falls into place, "You attacked because you
had to protect what you loved. Every wolf defends, it's in its nature."

Q nods, "Yes. That's the only reason I attacked. If I had known you didn't want me to, I wouldn't have, but Quinn and I were
coming into our power and we weren't thinking straight. You understand that, right?"

She nods, barely, "Yes."

"Good," The blonde nods and drops her hand, pulling Rachel's with it, "I only ever want you to be proud of me, okay?"

"I am."
The look that graces Q's face is completely indescribable; a mixture of relief, excitement and happiness. Her eyes glisten
and her smile is so wide that Rachel has the overwhelming urge to lunge forward and kiss her.
But she holds herself back and smiles, "Ready to hunt?"

And just holds her hand delicately as they leave, she doesn't let go until they're at the reserve, and Rachel mourns the loss
when Q's hand is pulled away.

"Happy birthday!" Max lunges for her and she finds herself lifted off of the ground and swirled around. She's almost close
to throwing up by the time Max puts her back down to her feet and has to clutch at his shoulders to steady herself. "I didn't
uhget you present because I was busy with stuff, but uh, that's a good enough present, right?"
Rachel chuckles at his beaming smile; obviously his coffee date with Sophia had gone well. "That was a great present
Maxwell, thank you."
If it's possible, he beams even harder.

"Hello, Rachel."
Q stands behind her as Jesse steps forward, measuring his each and every move as he pulls a small but elegantly
wrapped present from his inner jacket pocket. "It's not much, but I guess it's the thought that counts, right?"
Rachel tenses and Q presses her fingertips into the bottom of the singer's back, drifting in small circles, calming her mate.
"T-Thank you, Jesse." The young man beams as Rachel takes the present, but doesn't dwell on the fact she tries her
hardest not to brush fingers with his.

She rips open the packaging, a ghastly white and green affair that should only be ever seen at Christmas, but she
assumes he was planning to use it for Christmas anyway and it was the only thing he had on hand. Inside is a small box,
and for a second she thinks it's jewellery and about to slap it back into the palm of his hand, but Q is dropping her chin to
her shoulder and whispering, "Open it," Into her ear so delicately that her fingers find themselves pulling open the box.

Inside are two tickets to Wicked, a show that Rachel had seen over a dozen times since moving to New York, so she isn't
particularly moved. "They're VIP. They'll get you backstage to meet the cast." Okay, now she's moved, oh she's moved so
hard.
"Jesse," She gasps, "These must have cost a fortune."

But the boy just shrugs, "Eh, I know a few people, managed to wrangle some tickets. I thought you'd appreciate it; the
theatre buff that you are."

Rachel smiles and for the first time since High School, she's reminded of the boy she once fell in love with.
"Thank you, Jesse. These are great, truly." She wraps him in a hug, which he returns gratefully, "And you're forgiven."
Jesse chuckles, "About time, don't you think? I've missed having you in my life, Rach."
"Ditto," Rachel replies softly as she pulls back, "But if I catch you around me with eggs, your ass is getting thrown out by
my most spectacular," She turns to Q and pulls her close, allowing the blonde to wrap her in a tight hug, "Alpha girlfriend."
"Point taken." He holds his hands up in mock surrender and Q growls playfully. They look over to Max who is softly
chuckling to himself, fingers rapidly tapping away on his phone, and they all glance back at one another when they realize
who he's texting. "Jesus. A boy in love, we'll never get anything done."

Q smiles; it's about time something went right for Max.

"You've gotten bigger." Rachel suddenly comments in the quiet silence that lies between them and Q snorts as Rachel
slaps her palm over her mouth, "I didn't meanoh God, I didn't mean you were fat or anything"
Jesse smirks, "You mean I'm more muscular, I get it, don't worry. It's all the training."

Rachel frowns, "Training?"

Jesse's eyes flick so fast to Q's, she's surprised they didn't roll out of his head. You haven't told her yet?

I haven't been able to find the right time.

Do it now.
Are you ordering me? Q growls defensivly, but softens when Rachel looks up at her with wide eyes, "Sorry baby, Jesse's
just being a bit of an ass."

The singer's eyes narrow but she replies nontheless, "What else is new?" They all laugh, with a belated one from Max who
has only just caught wind of the conversation after pulling his nose away from his phone.

"So, ready to go?"

Q nods and begins pulling off her jacket, handing it to Rachel to hold, "Are you sure you're going to be okay out here
alone?"
Rachel smiles, "I'll be fine. I have Angry Birds on my phone."

The blonde huffs out a laugh and pulls off her shirt, adding it to the growing pile on Rachel's arm, "We'll be back soon,
okay? But if you get bored, don't hesitate to go home, I'll meet you back there."

Rachel feels herself melt all over again, and suddenly, she realizes what this feeling is. She's felt this before and she never
knew she'd feel it again; the pounding beating of her heart, the butterflies in her stomach, the ache at the thought of Q
going anywhere she wasn't. She's falling in love again.
"I'll be here," She whispers, leaning up to press a soft, barely there kiss. Q is taken back, quite obviously because her lips
don't move for a second, but then she's kissing back, wrapping the singer in her arms and pulling her close. "I won't go
anywhere" She says as she pulls back, pushing a lock of the blonde's hair away from her face.

Q stands, dumbfounded, "What is that thing that Quinn says all the time?"
"Hm?"

Jesse and Max are already stripped down to their boxers and waiting for Q, and Rachel should feel the urge to tear her
eyes away and look at two rather muscular men only in their boxers, but her eyes can't seem to pull away from that
stunning gold.
"The motto she always say, I can't quite remember it."

Rachel smirks, "God damn on a donut."

And Q just nods, breathless, "God damn on a donut."

Are we going to do this?

It's up to the Alpha.
Quinn?
Let's do it.

Wolves, formation twelve, go.

Scott, the Beta, turns first and dashes off into the undergrowth, six different wolves following him close. The pack, the
fourty of them, disappear one by one until only Q, Max and Jesse are left in the center of the clearing.

We have to be synced. Listen to each and every one of the voices, do you understand me?
Yes, Quinn.
You got it, Alf.
Jesse takes his position, and Max in turn, takes his, opposite Jesse. Quinn stays where she is stood and listens to the
almost thundering countdown of fourty wolves in her head. There are more wolves than this, but the final fourty are the ones
that will go through with the final fight against William and his pack. The others, dedicated with the task of weeding out his
followers, would start when Quinn and Jesse gave the go-ahead. It was only a matter of time.

10.
Quinn?
Q, shouldn't you be paying attention to the countdown?
9.
Are you going to ask Rachel?
Ask her what?
8.
The present you bought a year ago. Are you going to ask her?
Q, not now. The countdown.
7.
Just tell me.
Probably. Maybe, I'm not sure. The lying
6.
Can I?
Can you what?
5.
Ask?
I think you'd find it was my business, don't you think?
4.
She's my mate too.
I know that. But this is a human tradition. You had yours when you marked her.
3.
Quinn.
No, Q. Let me have this and only this, please?
2.
Fine, okay.
Thank you.
1.
Quinn?
Pay attention, Q.
0.
Every wolf, all fourty of them, dash from their hidden confines and lunch for the dead catch set in the center of the open
field. Each and every wolf, in perfect syncronisation, almost silently, lunge toward the catch and land perfectly at its fallen
body. Jesse and Max lunge with practiced ease and Q lunges too, eyes narrowed in on the catch, feeling that
syncronisation between their little makeshift pack.

Each wolf, growling, teeth beared, muscles tense and ready, rip apart the deer, flesh and blood spinning into the air as
growling and howling wolves tear at it's carcass. Q has never felt so alive and she can hear the howling cheers of their
pack in her mind; they've done it, they've perfected it, they've synced themselves up to the rest of the pack and heard the
countdown.

Formation 12 was a go.

Rachel is on the floor, laughing, trying to push the giant wolf that had jumped on her from what seemed like out of nowhere.
The wolf, the beautiful golden wolf that she had fallen in love with back in High School and that she hadn't seen in so long,
licked away at her face, her neck, her exposed chest bone, almost joyfully and she couldn't help but suck in that
happiness.
Q was happy, Quinn was happy and that meant she was too.

"Q! Oh my God!" She squeals when the laungish and frantic tongue licking turns into something soft against her mark. It's
soothing and gentle and she chuckles as she pushes Q away with a playful shove, "Down girl."

The wolf whines, but then yaps and lols its tongue out of her mouth.
"Gonna turn back?" Rachel comments as she sees Jesse and Max pad out from the forest. She takes them both in, never
having seen their wolves before as she hears Q transform her body back into her human form.
Never in her life would she have known that Jesse could have been a wolf; but then again, she shouldn't be surprised,
she'd been pretty close to giving her virginity to him, obviously she'd had her first taste of pheramones long before Quinn
had gotten to her.

"Phew," Her head snaps back to Quinn, expecting to see hazel eyes, but somehow comforted when she sees they're still
locked gold, "Good hunt."

Rachel smiles, "You seemed excited."

Q smiles softly, knowing that she shouldn't be the one to tell Rachel to truth, when all along it was Quinn that dug them into
such a huge hole, "Like I said. Good hunt."
Jesse and Max, now fully transformed and back into pants, thank God, stood beside them. "Same time next week?"
Jesse asks, arms crossed over his bared chest. Jesus, he did have muscles. Rachel's eyes scan across his abs, then
clears her throat when her eyes seem to scan over to Max's.

She still did appreciate the male body. She just happened to appreciate her girlfriend's a lot more. She bites down on her
bottom lip when she takes in the defined abs, the V cut and feels the sudden urge to follow it down, biting and sucking until
she's between her legs. What would it be like making love to Q, without having Quinn force the wolf back?

"Same time."

Rachel smiles, "Ready to go home?"

And Q smiles, "Sure."

"So uhm" Rachel is sat on the couch, hands in her lap, fiddling with her fingers, "What do you want to do to celebrate my
birthday?" She's hinting, my God she's hinting so hard, and she might feel a littlewhorishbut my God, she just wants
Q's fingers inside her, making love to her and-,
"Well Quinn wants to celebrate with you, so I better let her have her time."
Oh.

"Oh" She tries not to sound disheartened and even forces a smile, "Okay."
"I would-," Q sighs, "I'd love to stay with you andperhapsyou know, but, Quinn really has something she needs to tell
you."

Qnot today, it's her birthday!

It's about time you did something about this.
"Okay. But uhm, thank you, for this morning."
Q smiles and leans down, pressing a soft kiss to her girlfriend's forehead, "Anytime, beautiful."

Rachel blushes, "I'll see you soon?"

"Sooner, I hope." And with a grin, Q shuts her eyes, and within a beat, those eyes open once more to reveal soft hazel,
"Have fun with Q?"
Rachel smirks, "Totally."

Quinn lands with a thud on the couch beside her girlfriend, wrapping her up and pulling her close, letting the singer's head
rest against her chest, "Sorry your birthday had to start out that way though. I'm sure you didn't want to have wolf spit all
over your face on the day of your birth."
"Better than what was on my face when I was born."

Quinn cringes, "Oh gross, baby."

Rachel muffles her chuckles against Quinn's shirt, "Sorry, I couldn't resist."

The blonde shakes her head, "New York has made you crass."
"Are you complaining?"

"Nope."
"Good." Rachel pulls back with a smile, "Q said you wanted to tell me something?"

And here it is, the thumping in her chest, the painful twisting in her gut that makes her want to throw up; could she do it?
She hopes she can, she prays she can, and she takes the strength that Q hands to her like a lifeline.

She needs to do this or the lies will never stop.

"First, I want you to know that I love you very much." Rachel smiles and nods, "And uhbefore I tell you anything, I want to
give you your present, okay?"
"Sweetie, I said I didn't want presents." But her tone betrays her, she's excited as all hell and she can't stop the grin that
threatens to split her cheeks as Quinn stands from the couch. She's almost bouncing and only minute away from clapping
her hands together like an excited school girl when Quinn returns, "Where is it? Is it big? Is it in the bedroom? Oh my God,
is it a new vacuum? We needed one."
Quinn frowns, "You seriously wanted a vacuum for your birthday?"

The singer shrugs, almost physically saying with one shrug of her shoulders, 'so what?'
"You're twenty-one. Not fourty."

"I resent that."

The blonde smirks and settles back down beside her girlfriend, "It isn't a vacuum, but I'll buy you one next week if you want
one."
"Good, I'm fed up of dusting with a newspaper."

She can't help but snort at that, "Okay, but uhbut first" Okay, now she wants to throw up. Rachel catches the trembling
of her hands and takes them, holding them steady, and it feels almost like a second lifeline; the strength that Q had given
her slowly melting away.

It felt like a panic attack. Was it natural for a heart to beat that fast?

"I uh"
"Quinn, take a deep breath." Oh God, was this happening? Rachel stills herself, trying not to blurt out what she's thinking.
Four years, that was long enough, right? "Just calm down."
Why can't she take her own advice? The advice she had given Max only the day before? My God. She thinks she's dying.
She's having a stroke, just like that time she went to dinner at the Berry household. She's having a stroke and she's gonna
die at the age of twenty-one and nothing is going to stop it.

"I uhm," She nods to herself, perking herself up, pulling that strength forward, "Okay, I uh" And then she finds herself
sinking to the floor, on one knee, chest heaving, mouth agape as she begs for air to fill her lungs, "I uhmit's okay if you
don't wanna, I mean, you don't have to 'cosyou knowwe're still pretty young and we don't have to straight away and
we could wait, y'know? Likeyears" She pants and drops her chin to her chest, "Or a decade, or whatever, or for the
rest of our lives, you know?"
"Quinn." Rachel's voice, steady and strong, makes her drag her head back up, "Ask me."

Suddenly, with a quite clarity that she never knew she had, she pulls the box from her sweatpants pocket and holds it up,
clasped between two hands, pushing it open with two fingers, "Rachel Berrywill you do me the honor of becoming my
wife?" And she pauses and begins to hyperventaliate again because holy fuck she just asked and-, "It's cool if you don't
want to, I mean, it's totally okay and-,"

And suddenly, Rachel's lips are upon hers, soft but yet to powerful and she feels every bit of air that had managed to get
into her lungs wheeze out. She melts into the kiss, almost at tears, because she can feel the acceptance, but she needs to
hear it, she needs to hear that beautiful voice say that one word.
"So?" She asks, quietly, terrified.

And Rachel can't believe she's keeping herself so calm; people can get so shocked that they have no reaction
whatsoever, right? Quickly she checks the pulse at her wrist; yep, her heart is still going.

"I" She sucks in a breath and just bursts into tears. "Oh God, yes. Quinn, yes, yes, I accept!"
And Quinn follows right behind her, bursting into tears, hands shaking, putting the ring on Rachel's equally shaking hand
and they fall into each other's arms. Rachel sobs happily into her neck, pulling her close, fingers in her hair, body crushed
against the blonde's.

Four years together and she never thought it would happen. Four years of fighting and loving had finally come together to
create one perfect moment. Quinn had finally asked her to be her wife and she had never been so happy. Her father's
betrayal, her parents divorce, the unbearable weight of school on her shoulders, the bullying, the need to understand
something she never thought existed, seemed to melt away.

In this moment she felt like she could see Leroy and forgive him, she felt like she could go to that wedding and have a
smile on her face, because she knew when she went home, she'd have her very own fiance ready and waiting for her.

The mark had been one sign of commitment, and she knew it meant a lot to Quinn and her wolf, but this meant the world.
She finally had the human equivalent of a mark on her finger and she could be proud to show it to the people around her;
no more make up to hide the scarred mark to her collar, she could openly tell the world that she was betrothed to another
and that would never change.

She pulls her left hand away, and with shining eyes, stares at the tiny gleaming diamond on her finger. She knows that
Quinn must have saved up, saved up for months for this one ring, and as she clutches the blonde closer, she sobs harder.
But as Quinn continues to sob, she can't decipher if it's from happiness or from disappointment at the fact she has to ruin
this whole scene.

They're lying in bed, past exhaustion, Rachel already drooling into the pillow, half asleep. They had made love until three in
the morning and as Quinn stared at the clock, four am, she knew it was time. It was now or never. At least it still wasn't
Rachel's birthday; at least she gave the girl a day to remember.
"Baby?"

"Hmpfh?" Rachel mumbles against the pillow, "Wha-?"

"I need to tell you something."

"Can it wait?" Rachel yawns, shuffling closer to Quinn to rest her head on her chest. The blonde welcome her,
welcomes her warmth and pulls her close, drifting her hand through unruly brown locks. "Tired"

"I know," She whispers in reply, voice hallow, "I know butI need to tell you now."
"Hm?" Quinn can tell she's barely awake, and the fingers she's threading through her mate's hair isn't particularly
helping the situation, but she needs some form of connection, she needs her close, to touch and to feel her.
"Have you noticed that I've gotten stronger over the years? And that Max is more muscular andso is Jesse?"

"Hm"
"It's not a coincidence." She sighs and stares up at the ceiling, "Instead of hunting, we've been training" There's a
sudden blockage in her throat and she has to quietly cough to get rid of it, "We've been training to fight against William St.
James, to fight and control the Brooklyn Borough."

There's silence and she clenches her lips together, trying to stop the apologetic word vomit that makes its way up her
throat.
"What?" Quiet, but so utterly distraught

Tears prick at her eyes and she clenches them shut, trying to hold them at bay, "I didn't meant to lie to you, but I couldn't let
William stay in power any longer. I know you had your say, but I thought if I told you, that you'd leave me or something and I
couldn't deal with the thought of being without you, Rach, I couldn't."
"You lied to me." Rachel's moving and Quinn pulls her hand away, suddenly unsure if she's allowed to touch her own mate.
The singer props herself up on her elbow, "Youlied to me for," Her eyes narrow in contemplating, "You lied to me for two
whole years?"

Quinn shakes her head, the word vomit taking its place, "Baby, I didn't meant to lie. I just, I needed to take control of this
situation, the power, I couldn't turn away from it and I thought you'd hate me if I stepped over your word and-,"

"Hate you?" Oh God, there's tears in the brunette's eyes and she feels her heart slowly beginning to crack, "I wouldn't have
hated you. I wouldn't have talked to you for a few days buthate you? No." Rachel shakes her head, tears making
themselves known as she looks away, "But you know what I would have hated you for?"
Quinn doesn't even bother to reply, words unable to formulate.

"If you had lied to me about it."

Brown locks with hazel and Quinn feels herself completely shatter from the inside out, "Baby"

"Two years, Quinn. You lied to me for two years."

"I know," She whispers, avoiding the heavy howl of Q inside her mind, "I didn't mean for it to go on for so long, I just-," She
sits up, "I justI thought you'd leave me if I went ahead with the plan and I didn't want that, Rach. I wanted you by my side."
There's complete silence, only the ruffle of bed sheets as Rachel sits up, back to the headboard, knees to her chest, fully
awake. Her heart physically aches, and she's barely stopping herself from rushing to the toilet to throw up. The perfection
that sits on her finger no longer means nothing; the ring was bought and given through a lie.

"Baby, I am so sorry. Pleaseforgive me."

Rachel, eyes dull, stares into space, "How did it feel?"

Quinn's brow furrows, "Huh?"

"How did it feel to have me by your side?"

Quinn shakes her head, "I don't-," She sighs, "It was perfect. I was glad you were there, I needed you there."
"Then I hope you have a good memory," Suddenly, voice strong, brown eyes lock to hers, "Get out."

"But"

"You knew how I felt!" The brunette explodes, hands planted to the bed, sheets in clenched fists, "You knew how I felt
about lies, Quinn! Leroy lied to both me and my dad for months and you knewhow it effected me! You knew and you still
lied! You lied for two years and you think that asking for my forgiveness can change that?"

Quinn chokes back a sob, crawling toward her mate, "Rachel, please. I love you."
"Get out. I can't even look at you."

"Rachel,"
"I said get out, Quinn!" They stare at one another, and the quiet peace that had filled the room only minutes before,
completely vanishes, as Quinn, sobbing so hard that it burns her lungs, climbs out of bed and clambers for her clothes.
"You can come back for the rest tomorrow." Rachel comments when Quinn is finally back in her sweatpants and shirt.

"Rachelplease. Don't do this."

"You saw how lying effected me" Rachel stares her right in the eyes and sobs, "You knew and you still did it. You sat
there every night while I cried and you still did it."
"I'm not your father, Rach"

"No" The singer shakes her head, soft and heartbroken, "You're worse."
And Quinn collapses back against the wall, hands clutched to her stomach as nasuea washes over her. Everything she
had fought for, everything she had pushed herself to be, meant nothing. All she had ever wanted was for Rachel to be
proud, all she wanted to do was protect her mate until the end and she had failed at both of those simple but important
tasks.
She had sat there, night after night and watched as Rachel sobbed to a lone wolf about how her father had lied, how he
had cheated and lied to her face about the deception. Rachel had told her how she had hated liars, how she couldn't bare
to look at them, how it made her think back to Leroy and how he had torn apart her family.

She had promised herself that she would never inflict that pain upon her girlfriend; she would stand by and be truthful and
do anything it took to make her happy.

But here she was, breaking the promises she had made to herself all those years ago, broken the simple promise she
had given when she put that ring on Rachel's finger.

The ring that was now being thrown to her feet.

"Take that with you."

"Rach," She chokes out, sobbing, pleading, "Please don't do this."

"Just go, Quinn" She whispers, suddenly exhausted.
"Rachel"
"Quinn, please," She sobs, dropping her head into her hands, "Oh God, please, just leave, I can't-," And the tears are
violent, heartbreaking and Quinn begs once more, begs to stay, begs to make it better, but there's no reply, just a sob that
forces her from the room, makes her drag her feet toward the front door, makes her shut that door behind her with a quiet
click.
And with the quiet and undisturbed air of the hallway around her, she collapses to the floor, sobs and begs, Q howling in
desperation and agony, "Oh God, please, don't do this to me."
*Chapter 21*: Descent Within
Springtime in Limo, Ohio is one of the most beautiful times of year you could go to the small town. Quinn remembers
sitting out in her very own backyard, fighting off the slight chill in the breeze with her Cheerio's hoodie wrapped around her,
reading a book. She'd spend hours outside, reading and reading until her eyes were sore and the natural light of the day
died away.
The cherry blossom tree at the bottom of her yard always looked beautiful at that certain time of year. The once bare tree
would begin to blossom once more and she'd take pleasure in watching it bloom. As a child, she and Frannie would play
amongst the thick trunk, hiding behind it during games of hide and seek, and trying to climb the tree without breaking any
bones.

Frannie wasn't so lucky with that particular game.

It was always stunning, and especially as she grew up, she learnt to appreciate the beauty that the earth naturally gave.
And now, at the age of twenty-one, she learnt to appreciate a lot of different things. Trust, loyalty, truth; even if she couldn't
abide by them.
As she looks around her backyard, she can't help but stop the thundering of her heart as it powers against her chest.
Instead of the homely feel she should inevitably have, all she feels is a certain sense of foreboding. Something doesn't feel
right, but everything she looks as it did before she left for New York.

She can still hear the hum of the jets in the pool, the gentle breeze as it passes through the cherry blossom tree at the
bottom of the garden. Her eyes pin that tree and her breath catches; it was as beautiful as she once remembered. The
petals, full with new life, sway subtly in the wind and she can smell their scent from across the yard.
She steps forward, inching toward the tree, fingertips itching to touch the rough bark. She doesn't know why; she doesn't
know why she has such an unforgiving urge to touch that tree, but as her hand reaches out, she stops herself. Does she
really deserve to touch a thing of beauty?

Her hand pulls away slightly, doubting herself; it's just a tree. She glances up at the beautiful petals and smiles as one
snaps free, drifting quietly in the breeze and landing with a soft tickle to her forehead. She brushes it away, feeling the soft
petal between her thumb and finger. She's brought back to the time when she was six, when she was suppose to be
helping her father rake the fallen petals, she just grabbed a huge arm full of the piles he'd made and threw them up into the
air. She chuckles, remembering how her father, instead of getting angry and telling her off, grabbed an arm full himself and
threw them right at her.

If she concentrates hard enough, she can still hear the comforting laugh of her father, and her loud childlike giggles.
The petal flutters to the floor and her hand reaches out once more. Her fingertips brush the bark, and she only manages to
lexuriatiate in that rough texture for a few second before a sudden heat engulfs her hand. She snarches her hand back,
clutching it to her chest; her hand feels like it's on fire. She examines it, but nothing looks out of the ordinary, but the pain is
unbelievably agonizing.
Then she hears it, crackling, and as she looks back up, her eyes widen. With a gasp, she forces herself back, falling flat
on her backside, kicking herself away. Before her, hazel eyes gleaming with ember and orange, she stares at that once
beautiful tree as it burns. Flames lick at the wood, burning down those tender petals until they turn to dust, and she feels
something inside her shatter.
Did she do that? Did she destroy something so beautiful?

"You did that." The familiar voice makes her heart miss a beat, and with tears in her eyes, she looks over her shoulder.
Golden eyes stare back at her and she clenches her jaw; a mirror image of herself stands tall, arms crossed over her
chest, a look of complete indifference locked on her face.
"What-," Quinn clears her throat, a soft little cough that seems to do the job, "What are you talking about?" She climbs to
her feet, turning to face Q. The wolf/human hybrid makes no effort to move, and if anything, she barely blinks; it's eerie and
although the heat engulfs her from behind, a certain chill of ice makes its way through her body. Q's stare, lifeless and
empty, makes her feel as if she's staring at an empty soul.
"Everything you touches ends up destroyed." To hear herself, effectively speak, has her mind reeling. How is this
possible? How is Q her own person without the use of her body?
Quinn shakes her head; what the hell was that suppose to mean? She clenches her jaw, staring Q dead in the eye. She
somehow feels as if they're at a dead man's draw. Neither one of them willing to move, eyes locked with a fierce intensity
that would scare anyone.

"Your lies brought the end of your relationship. You knew how Rachel felt about lies, and you betrayed the trust she so
lovingly gave you. You lied to her longer than her father did, and yet you still did it."

She opens her mouth to speak, but her mind can't seem to focus on stringing her words together. She feels tongue tied,
destroyed emotionally and completely and utterly defeated.
"You almost kill your best friendtwice. You lie to your girlfriend for two years. You deny her of the one thing she wants
most in this world. What makes you think you deserve happiness?"
"I thought-," She grits her teeth to force back the tears, "I thought she'd leave me if I told her of the plan. I thought-,"

"You didn't trust her." Quinn dips her head down, shutting her eyes with a shuttering breath, "You didn't trust her enough to
stay with you, even if you told her you were going over her word. Did you think so little of her? Did you truly think she would
walk away from you? Are you that pathetic?"

"Shut up!" Eyes blazing, her head snaps up, "You're a fucking wolf, you don't understand the fear that comes with being
with her! Everyday, I'm terrified that I'll lose her. What if I say something wrong? What if I do something wrong? She's so
strong, even without me. She wouldn't hesitate to walk away if I did something wrong. I thoughtif I told her, she'd walk
away."
"Yet lying made her walk away. Did you not once think about how lies would effect her? After all these years, she still can't
even bare to talk to her father."
"I know, but I," She wipes at her eyes, "I was being selfish."
Q's eyes narrow and Quinn sighs, "I was being selfish by keeping her around longer. I'd have rather had her around for two
more years than not at all."

"Through your selfishness, you broke her heart. For two years of happiness with her, you destroyed her trust; something so
fragile and unique." Q pauses and drops her arms to her sides, "Are you proud of yourself?"

"Don't put this all on me," She growls, stepping forward toward her wolf, "You were a part of me too. My human side may
be the dominant, but you could still have taken control and told her."

"I wasn't the one that made the lie up in the first place, Quinn. How was it my place to deal with the ramifications of your
decision?"

And Quinn deflates; she had always hoped that her wolf's need to be with its mate was always a valid reason why she lied.
But honestly, a wolf is prideful and trustworthy, it would never lie. Her human side was the one that chose the wrong path,
her wolf side just demanded she rectify it.
"I've lost her, what does it matter?" So utterly defeated, she glances over her shoulder at the tree she once thought
beautiful, now burning into a hideous mismatch of shapes. "I do destroy everything I touch."
"Yes, you have." Her head snaps back, a different voice, a different tone. Instead of Q, now Rachel stands before her,
wearing the same outfit she wore on their very first night together at the park. That horrible bedazzled R on the front of her
tank top and grey sweatpants that almost seem to consume her. She looks so young and so fragile. Her eyes are swollen
and red, and it's just the picture of when she first saw Rachel crying.
"Rachel," She whispers, broken, tears trailing softly down her pale cheeks.

"You've lost me." The singer's voice is so utterly flat; it doesn't even sound like the woman she loves. Her voice is void, her
eyes dead she stares, "I trusted you, Quinn. I trusted you and you still lied to me."

"I thought," She takes a few steps forward, but then stops when Rachel's eyes narrow, "I thought that if I told you I was
going through with it anyway, you'd leave me. I just needed you in my life."

"And now I'm not." The brunette tilts her head softly to the side, "How does it feel?"
And Quinn lets out a sob, all the fight gone from her body, "It hurts" She takes in a long breath, "It hurts so much. I need
you back, Rachel. Please."
Rachel's eyes soften and Quinn watches her, eyes wide and childlike, hoping and praying. The singer's hand reaches out,
palm up and Quinn wipes at her cheeks, forcing away the salt of her tears.
With a soft smile, she steps forward and takes that beautiful hand in hers. She sobs and brings that hand to her lips,
kissing it softly, clutching it close. Never did she think she'd be able to touch Rachel like this again. Never again would she
take Rachel Berry for granted.
But then the heat is back, a sharp hot stabbing pain that aches her entire hand. And then her eyes snap open, locking on
dark brown, "Oh God, no." And Rachel frowns, looking down at her body as the heat engulfs her body. Rachel feels so
unbelievably hot and she knows that she shouldn't have touched her but once again, she was being so fucking selfish she
couldn't help herself.
"Baby," She whines as she backs away, watching as the small flick of flames begin to eat away at Rachel's body, "Oh
God, Rachel, no."
She collapses down to her knees, squeezes her eyes shut and cups her hands over her ears to fight off the sounds of
love's terrified screams. She sobs, destroyed, heart aching, mind reeling, feeling as if she will throw up.

"I told you," She hears minutes later, and as she looks up, Rachel is no longer there, but Q, crouched down before her.
"Everything you touch ends up destroyed."

Her eyes snap open and she shoots up, eyes wet with tears, throat sore from screaming, "Rachel!" She pants, lungs
aching for air that it so desperately needs, and she barely hears the shuffle behind her.

Jesse circles the couch and glances down at her with a sigh, "Same dream?"
And all she can do is sob.

She hates feeling so exposed, and it's not just because she's an Alpha. Her personality as a human, doesn't allow people
to look at her and see everything she is feeling; she certainly doesn't wear her heart on her sleeve. She likes to keep
things close to her chest, keep them hidden away, because if people can see how hurt she is, or how she feels in any
respect, they can use it to their advantage. They could learn something about her that she doesn't want anyone to learn.

She likes to hold a certain anonymity among her friends, Max included. Although they are the best of friends and tend to
share a lot of their thoughts and feelings with one another, Quinn always holds back. Max has no issue with telling her how
he feels, or how hurt he could be from what she's said or done, and she revels in the fact that he trusts her so much to trust
her with such delicate information.

Does it make her a bad person that she hides things from her friends and family? No, it just means she's careful. She's
always been hurt; there hasn't been a time in her life when she hasn't gotten hurt. Even with Rachel by her side, loving her
and protecting her, she somehow always ended up getting hurt. If they argued and Rachel told her exactly how hurt she
had gotten from said fight, it would always hack away at Quinn's heart, but she wouldn't let the hurt show.

She was protecting herself; she'd always done it and now it was just an automatic defence tactic that she did, even if she
didn't want it to happen. No matter how much she wanted to open herself up to Rachel, to show her how hurt she truly was
over certain matters in their relationship, she always held back. The fact she was an Alpha just aggravated it to extreme
measures.

An Alpha is always suppose to stand tall and take everything that happens to them on the chin; to not revel in it and just
move on. Two personality traits, strong and demanding, had shaped her into the person she was today. Instead of telling
Rachel how scared she was that she could walk out the door at any time and that the thought completely terrified her down
to the bone, she allowed that fear to consume her and used lies to slow down the inevitable scenario.

She only had herself to blame for allowing her fears to consume her; for not trusting Rachel enough not to leave. She's
consumed by nightmares; the very same nightmares that visit her each and every night. She vaguely remembers them, but
when she wakes up, she realizes it was the same dream as the night before, and the one before that, and even before
that.

Thanks to her own self doubts and self-dedication to shutting herself off, she had shunned herself of the one thing, the one
person, that kept her together, that made her feel some semblance of safety.

She'd ruined everything.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Jesse asks, mouth half full with destroyed toast.

She just shakes her head; talking takes too much effort nowadays. For the past week and a half, since being thrown out of
her apartment, all she had done conversationally is nod and shake her head. It gets the point across, right? Why bother
using words? Words she could easily mask and twist into lies.
She's a liar.

And her hero of the hour just nods; he knows not to ask more than that, otherwise the blonde will just storm off. The last
time he'd badgered her about talking about it, she'd stormed off for almost seven hours. He was frantic, unable to contact
her, or even hear her thoughts; she had become amazingly adept at hiding her scent and thoughts after two years of
vigorous training.

He had been the one she'd first called, in floods of tears, barely making sense, when Rachel threw her out. They'd met at
Sidebar, Quinn drowning her sorrows in a pint of beer that he was sure wasn't her first one. After a few more, just to calm
the stuttering sobs of a girl who tried to force herself back together, he had taken her back to his apartment and told her
she could stay.
He just wasn't sure how long she could stay. His father liked to make trips now and again to see him, and if he smelt or
had even an inkling that the Alpha he despised was staying with his son, that would be the end of them both and their plan.
Time was of the essence, and he didn't know when to breach it to his friend that she may have to leave and find another
place. She was barely together at the moment, just throwing her out on her ass would probably just destroy her all over
again. They may not have the tight knit friendship that she and Max have, but he still counted her as a friend, an ally, the
one who would protect the Brooklyn Borough from his father's iron fist.

She was key to their plans, and if she was still broken up over the end of her relationship with Rachel, she'd be useless to
the new resistance pack; too busy and preoccupied with her break up, she wouldn't be able to focus on the task at hand.
He has already noticed that she was slacking at practice, often just dragging her paws behind the other wolves, not
listening to commands and certainly not giving them.

Quinn wasn't being herself and this spelled disaster for their plan. But he knew how stubborn Rachel could be, and he
knew that if he spoke to her, she'd slam the door straight in his face. That, and his role beneath an Alpha, forbade him to
meddle in Quinn's business.
He was at a dead end with no real choice to take hold of. He hoped they would talk; perhaps if Rachel calmed down, she
would be able to listen to Quinn's side of the story without kicking the young wolf out again, but Quinn had yet to go back to
her apartment for her clothes.

Rachel had text her two days after she was kicked out and simply told her that she could come pick up her things. You
can come for your things. Six words that Jesse had seen over Quinn's shoulder, and that Quinn stared at daily. It was six
words that she had been unable to erase from her phone, and Jesse had caught her, more often than not, reading the text
over and over again before she fell into a restless night's sleep.

She was constantly exhausted, and he knew it was from the dreams she encountered in her subconscious each and every
night, but once again, he couldn't do anything about them, especially with the fact she refused to speak about them. Every
night he would be awoken to a broken scream of his ex's name and he would rush out to check on her; she would be sat
up on the couch, eyes wide and terrified, shirt soaked with sweat, chest heaving for air.

The nightly dreams had even begun to effect him. He would wake up seemingly minutes before Quinn herself woke up in a
fit of panic; his very own subconscious preparing himself to comfort his friend.

"Quinn?" She glances up from her coffee mug, barely; the coffee is astounding, with Jesse and his father's money, he had
been able to afford one of the best coffee machines money could buy and it paid off. She drank cup after cup during the
day, in hopes of keeping herself awake at night. The caffeine worked for a while, but then her body just adjusted itself to
the high intake and she still dozed off. Nothing would work, no matter how hard she tried.

She flicks an eyebrow up slightly, a silent 'what?' that has him taking a deep breath in. She stops herself from rolling her
eyes; she knows what he's going to ask, it's always the same routine in the morning. A soft 'are you okay' and then a 'do
you want to talk about it' and then the inevitable question that plagues her day and night.
"Are you going to pick up your things from the apartment?" She holds her breath, "I mean, it's been almost two weeks and
my dad is starting to wonder why I'm spending so much money on women's underwear." Seriously. His credit card
statement was ridiculous; how his father believed that he had nightly women callers that were in need of clean underwear
before they left the morning after was beyond him. It didn't even sound plausible to him.

She doesn't reply and he fights back a growl. His wolf has been pacing back and forth in the back of his mind, wanting to
get the Alpha out of the apartment; it felt constantly on edge with her around, and it hated not being the strongest in the
household anymore. He knows, for his own, and his wolf's sanity, he needs to get her out of the apartment, just for a little
while.
"Quinn." His voice strong, eyes hard, stare at the blonde sat before him, "I'm not messing around anymore. I've been
pussy footing around you for almost two weeks now and I'm getting sick of it. You need to talk to Rachel, you need to get
your act together. We need you right now and you're completely checked out. Check the fuck back in."

He growls and palms his forehead; that's what happens when his incredibly pissed off wolf takes over his mind, verbal
vomit.

The blonde blinks slowly, staring at him, then staring down at her coffee mug. And for the first time in almost two weeks, he
finally hears her voice string together a sentence, and his mouth gapes at how broken and dejected it sounds.

"After my coffee."
Three words. He nods, three words, that's all he needs right now.

It'll do.
She's at school when she gets the text. She's sat mid-stage, preparing for a beautiful scene between two friends who
confide in one another about an abusive parent. It's heart warming, and Rachel had fallen in love with the script as soon as
she'd seen it. Obviously, Sophia had gotten the role of the other friend, and because they didn't hold that animosity toward
one another anymore, they worked incredibly well together.
Rachel could finally see why Sophia had been picked to join Juilliard.
Can I come for my stuff today?
Her heart stutters in her chest and when she audibly sighs, Sophia looks over to her, dropping her bag to the floor, "You
okay?"

Rachel's head snaps up from her phone and takes in Sophia; the girl is outstandingly beautiful, but there's something
about the look in her eyes that makes her want to weep. Sophia is looking at her with such care; they might have hated
one another at first, but now they were creating such a delicate friendship.
"I uhm" She hadn't told her that she'd thrown Quinn out, "It's nothing, really." She forces a smile, the same smile that
Sophia had seen in every single play they had done together. Rachel had truly perfected the fake but realistic smile; she
could see straight through her.

"I know it's none of my business," She sits down beside her, crossing her legs Indian style, "But you've been upset for the
past few weeks. I know we never really warmed to each other in the beginning, but you really are a friend of mine, and if
you ever want to talk, I'm right here."
Rachel smiles, eyes shining with unshed tears, "Why was I ever cruel to you?"

"You saw me as a threat. I saw you as one too." Sophia shrugs softly, "But now I just see you as an equal. There's nothing
wrong with competition, as long as it's a healthy one. We were destroying each other."

"Yeah, we were." Their friendship had been created a year ago. During the second year play, Sophia and Rachel had
been cast opposite one another and although Sophia couldn't look her in the eye after taking her role the previous year,
she gritted her teeth and acted like nothing bothered her. It wasn't until the director had noticed the animosity between the
two, quoting that he could 'feel the hate from where he was sat', and made them sit down and talk openly to one another,
did a small and uncertain friendship begin to form.
Over the year, it had grown from uncertain to certain, and Rachel truly did appreciate having Sophia there by her side.

"Thank you, but uhm" She sighs, "I don't really want to talk about it."
Sophia nods, "Okay. Well, I'm always here if you want to talk." She makes to stand up, but stops when she hears Rachel
almost whimper. Eyebrows furrowed, she looks to the girl, "Rachel?"
"I can't-," She whispers, voice broken, "I can't let her back in."

Blue eyes grow wide, "Rachel?"

"I'm terrified."

And Sophia sits down completely, taking the phone from her friend's hand and placing it gently on the stage. She takes
those shaking hands in hers and asks softly, "Terrified of what?"

"Of the hate that I have for Quinn."

Mouth agape, she watches as Rachel completely breaks before her, sobbing and clutching at her hands, almost as a
lifeline, and she doesn't know what the hell to say. All she knew about Quinn was that she had been with Rachel since High
School, and that the reason Rachel came into school smiling every day was because of her. Rachel never really spoke of
her relationships, romantic or friends, so she never really asked.
"Why do you hate her?" She asks, the only thing her mind is even capable of asking, "How can you hate your own
girlfriend?"
Watery brown eyes look up at her and she feels her own chest ache at the look of devastation in those eyes, "She lied to
me. She lied to me and thought I could just forgive her for it. I have a thing for liars, I have ever since," She sniffles and
shakes her head, "I just hate them because of certain reasons in my life andshe was the one person I thought would
never lie to me."
"But" Sophia shakes her head, unable to process, "How could you hate someone you love?"

And Rachel lets go of her hands, pushes her knees up to her chest and burrows her head down, "I don't know," She sobs,
painfully, heart breakingly broken, "I just don't knowanymore."
The text takes two hours and thirty-six minutes to come through. She knows, because she sent the text dead at twelve
o'clock that afternoon and had been staring at the clock ever since. She had nothing better to do; Jesse was out dealing
with his father's endless questions about his whereabouts and Max was out hunting. Of course he'd offered her to come
along, but the thought of hunting just wanted to make her scream.
Q was restless in her mind, had been ever since that first dream, and she can't help but hold some hate towards the wolf.
The wolf is one of the main reasons that she finds her dreams so disturbing; she stands there, the picture of perfection,
eyes gleaming, young and youthful, hair lustrous and wavy; everything she was before her heart broke in two. The words
her wolf speaks destroy any semblance of strength she had inside her.

And it destroys it, because she knows every word is true. If Q had been in control of her, the lies never would have been
created; she would have been truthful and told Rachel she was still going ahead with the plan.

I'll be home from rehearsals at seven.

So now she has to wait until seven. That won't be painful or agonizing at all.

Jesse comes back, with Scott in tow, a beast of a man with a shaved head. His eyes seem to stare right into your soul,
and if Quinn wasn't an Alpha, she'd find herself terrified of the man, but when he looks at her, nods his head in a gentle
welcome, she knows he's secretly bowing to her rank.
"Quinn," His voice almost bellows in the small one-bedroom apartment.

She just nods at him, but doesn't miss the way that Jesse frowns as he walks into the kitchen. He had got her to speak just
that morning, why was she closing off again? Unless Rachel had told her to effectively get lost; but he knows that no matter
how hurt Rachel is, she could never be so cruel to a person she cares about.

She had forgiven him after all he had done. He had lied and she had bestowed him with her forgiveness. But then again,
he hadn't lied to her for two years.
He swipes three beers from the fridge, but then hesitates when it comes to popping the top on the third. Should he really
give Quinn alcohol? She's bad enough with all the coffee she drinks; how would alcohol effect her in this state of mind? He
puts it back and pours a mug of coffee instead, knowing that one vice is better than two.

Scott offers a thanks as he takes the beer from Jesse's hand and watches with almost hawk like eyes as Quinn glances
from the bottle of beer that Jesse is drinking from and the coffee he holds out to her.

She looks like she's going to say something, and he hopes she will; he may not be her Beta yet, but one day, if all goes to
plan, he will be. He wants the Alpha back that he knows will take care of his pack, that will protect them all with fairness
and a firm but fair hand. He's known her for two years, and over those years, he has felt a firm bond with the young Alpha
that he's only ever felt with his mate. He knows she will be a great and powerful Alpha; he can feel it.

But Quinn just sighs and takes the mug, taking one big long gulp of the steaming hot brew. He fights off a cringe when he
sees the hot sting attack the blonde's eyes, and just looks away instead, focusing on his beer. The Alpha he was once
proud to serve under was now slowly breaking down and hurting herself to ease that pain that had taken residence inside
her.

"Soplans." Jesse says after a beat, taking a seat on the couch, and effectively, Quinn's bed. "My dad is getting a little
restless. He doesn't like how quiet things are and rumours are beginning to surface thanks to Rick Sayer, the bartender at
Sidebar."
"What has he said?" Scott asks, running the cold bottle across his forehead. "He's a little wimp, your father won't take
anything he says seriously."
"No, he feels that Rick is his closest confidant. He hears things as a bartender and my father feeds off that information."

Scott glances over to Quinn and then back to Jesse, "We should get rid of him. If anything, he'll be the one to ruin this plan.
We've worked too hard."

"My father will know something is wrong if Rick just disappears. No, he stays until we set the plan into motion."
Quinn tilts her head back against her seat, staring up to the ceiling, quietly counting down the time until seven in her mind.
She's barely paying attention to what they're talking about, although she knows she should be kept in the loop; after all,
she will be the one to go against William when the time is right.

"Jesse, as Beta, I know how your father works. He won't wait around forever, I'm shocked he's even stayed quiet for two
years."

"You work under him. What has he been saying?"

"He doesn't like the quiet. People are keeping their mouths shut and he doesn't appreciate it. Rick, while coming out with
information, isn't giving him anything too substantial. He knows something is happening, he just doesn't know what."

Jesse hisses, "Fuck." Then he growls, a soft but prominent growl, "What the hell are we going to do? I know we're nearly
ready, but we still have to weed out his supporters."

Quinn's eyes drift to the window, and voice, low and empty says, "Just do it now."
Scott's eyes snap to Quinn, "We just said-,"
"I know what you just said," She replies, obviously bored, "We may be weeks behind in training, but we're strong enough
to wing it."

"Quinn, I don't think you understand," Jesse sits forward, placing his beer on the floor by his feet, "You can't just wing it
against another Alpha. My father may be aging, but he's still as strong as he was when he was twenty. He has supporters
and those supporters won't hesitate to put their life on the line for him."
"Then let's kill them first."

Scott's eyes widen, snapping to Jesse and taking in the gaping expression on his face before looking back to the blonde,
"Are you joking?"

"Do I sound like I am?" Her eyes, void and emotionless, look to Scott, "The easiest way to do this would be to do it right
now. Kill his supporters or make them defect to our side, then I'll take care of William."

"Doing that this early would be suicide."

She just shrugs, "It's not like I have anything to lose." The emptiness she feels inside her is only doubled at the loss of her
wolf's mate. Rachel may have been her girlfriend, and for a few hours, her fiance, but she was also an Alpha's mate. The
connection that ran between them was something that overshadowed any other type of love. The connection that ran
between them was something rare and unique; and now it was gone.
"Quinn," Jesse butts in, eyes narrowed and hard, "Stop being so fucking ridiculous." Her eyes cut to him, vacant and
uninterested, "You've lost your mate, I understand this, but throwing yourself into a plan we haven't perfected yet is the
stupidest thing you've ever said. If you want pity, you've had your fair share, but now it's time to grow up and be the Alpha
you really are."
And she just explodes.

"And what if I don't want to be the Alpha, anymore? What if I just want to live out my life without all this fucking pressure
you've put on my shoulders? Everything was fine until you came along! If I hadn't agreed to this stupid fucking plan I'd still
be with Rachel. Go fucking screwyourself, Jesse."

Scott drains his beer, completely unfazed by the outburst and throws the empty bottle into the bin by the TV. "I understand
what you're going through, Quinn."

"You have no idea what I'm going through." Eyes blazing, they lock on Scott.

"Perhaps not fully, but the thought of losing my mate is something I don't even want to think about." He shoves his hands
into his jeans pockets, "But turning on one another isn't the way to go about this. We're your friends, we're members of
your pack and we'll stand by you no matter what. You have every right to be angry, but would Rachel really want you to act
like this?"

And her eyes are dead again, leaning back in her chair, looking back out the window, "She just wants me out of her life."
"Could you or your wolf bare that?"

She doesn't reply and Scott clenches his fists in his pockets; he has two kids and neither one of them are as stubborn as
this woman right here.

"You made a mistake; a mistake that all human's make. Your wolf, however, still held the integrity you held deep inside
you. It wanted you to tell the truth, because subconsciously, your human side demanded it also. Maybe Rachel needs to
understand that."
"She won't talk to me."

"Then maybe she'll talk to your wolf?" Quinn's eyes dim slightly, "Maybe Q will be able to say the things you can't say."
Jesse sighs, "I know you're afraid, Quinn. You try to hide it butwe both know you're terrified. We're here for you, no
matter what, but you need to stop this destructive roll you have on your life."
Tears in her eyes, Quinn growls, "I hate you both."

But Jesse and Scott don't take it to heart, because for the first time since the break up, Quinn is crying in front of them and
letting out all the emotion she had stored inside her for two weeks.

"Where are you going so fast?" Rachel asks, softly and playfully, packing away her script into her backpack. They
finished rehearsals only a few minutes ago, and Sophia was running around like a bat out of hell, showering herself with a
fresh scent of perfume and running a brush through her tangled locks.
"Oh uhm," She has the good grace to blush and Rachel can't help but smile, "I have a date."
Then she remembers, Maxwell had spoken to her at the coffee shop and asked her out on a date. Maxwell was urging for
Sophia and the girl had yet to know his deepest secret. She can't help but wonder how she will react if it ever gets that far.

"Oh? With who?" She asks, just to have concrete evidence. She truly does hope it's Maxwell; he might be a bit of a slob
and a pain in the backside, but he truly is a nice man.

"His name is Max, I met him at the Starbucks on Columbus."

Rachel nods her head, "Oh wow. Is his last name Thorpe by any chance?"

This stops Sophia dead, and she stares at Rachel with a jaw dropped expression, "How did you-?"
"He's my gir-," She pauses and shakes her head, "Quinn's best friend. She was the Quinn you met at Starbucks."

Sophia's eyes grow wider and although the hurt of talking about Quinn plagues her thoughts, she still can't help but smile,
"Are you joking? The blonde girl was your girlfriend?"

She chomps down hard on her inner cheek and nods.

"Oh, wow." Sophia shoulders her bag with a laugh, "Well, what a small world, huh?" She runs her fingers back through her
hair when an unruly lock drops across her eyes, "But yes, I meant Max Thorpe."
"He's a really great guy." Then she smiles softly, albeit a little sadly, "He'll treat with you with respect."

"I hope so," Sophia smiles, a little embarrassed, "He's really sweet. I reallywant to get to know him a little better."
Rachel nods, "I'll keep my fingers crossed for you."

And Sophia just says, "You too." Before smiling and walking from the auditorium.

She takes her time walking home; she purposely misses the train that she usually catches after rehearsals and ends up
waiting for the next one. It's only ten minutes, but it's still ten minutes that she has to herself, and keeps her away from the
hurt she's going to inevitably face when she gets back to her apartment.

Once, she loved jumping on the subway, exhausted from endless rehearsals, but still excited to get home to Quinn. The
blonde would be sat in front of the TV, sketching endless pictures into a drawing pad, tilting her head just so as she
examined it. She'd tell Quinn about her day, how Director Edwards is probably one of the most annoying men she's ever
met after forcing her through song after song and how she is still excited to perform at the end of the school year.

Quinn would tell her about her day; how Max tried to steal one of her pictures because he was up late the night before
hunting. How her drawing received praise from her professor and how annoyed she is at the advanced animation
program they've begun using to bring their drawings to life.
She'd look forward to learning about her girlfriend's day, and how carefree she was now that Jesse had managed to get
William off her back about her schooling. She could have kissed him when she found out that he had practically pleaded
to let Quinn continue her schooling, how she was 'broke' and couldn't afford to go to another school, especially that late in
the school year. He had hated it, apparently, and he might have been a prize cunt, but he wasn't completely heartless. He
gave the blonde almost a page full of rules she had to abide by, one of which was that she only allowed to go to NYU and
the subway when in Brooklyn and that if she was caught anywhere else, she would be instantly taken to William and 'put
down like the mutt she is'.

Quinn had been pissed off for three straight days after being called a mutt and practically lived in the reserve just hunting
day and night. But at least their problem was solved, even if a list of rules hung over her head.

But now she has to go home, to her empty apartment, where Quinn won't be sat inside working on her drawings and
munching on a full plate of food, but stood outside the door, a no doubt heartbroken expression on her face.

How she will deal with the expression, and the gleaming puppy dog eyes that Quinn had perfected, she doesn't know. It
was hard enough throwing her out in the middle of the night, staring into those eyes. But now she had calmed down, would
she have the power to push the blonde away?
She only hoped she did.
She fiddles with her keys as she ascends the stairs to her floor, fingers meticulously flipping over each individual key, then
flipping them back and starting again. Her feet feel like lead blocks as they stamp down on each step; somehow sealing
her to the doom she feels in the pit of her stomach.

The hallway isn't long. They're only three other apartments on their floor and when she glances up to the top of that hallway,
she sees the familiar blonde against the far wall, arms crossed over her chest, one leg bent back to lean against the wall,
chin dipped to her chest.
With a sigh, she tips her head up, giving herself an air of power and strides toward her apartment door. She barely
glances at Quinn, let alone talks to her, as she pushes her key into the lock.
She hears her ex shift behind her and she forces herself not to tense, but instead forces herself to shove open the door
and power walk in, trying to put a greater distance between her and the woman she loves and loathes at the same time.
Her heart tells her one thing, to trust her, that she did it for the future of their relationship, but her head forces her to believe
that all liars are people who will break your heart, just like her father, and will continue to lie no matter how often they tell
you they are being truthful.

She had spoken briefly to Maxwell, two days after Quinn had obviously called him about the break up. He had come to her
door, hair askew, still sweating; he'd ran to her apartment to ask what the hell was going on and she told him every last
detail.
He had been shocked and he had just shook his head when she told him that Quinn had lied to her face for two years. And
he'd said something that even stumped her, "So why did she come clean after all this time?"
And she just shrugged, because she don't know what aggravated Quinn so much to tell the truth.

"It was probably Q."

And Rachel had just been surprised and confused, because Q was also a part of Quinn, why would that make a
difference? And he'd told her, in great detail, how a wolf is always truthful and that lies only hurt them. Obviously Q knew,
but forced her human counterpart to tell the truth. It was Quinn's mistake so Quinn should fix it.

He'd left soon after that, saying that he was going to see his friend, but she hadn't seen him since. She had completely
segregated herself from Quinn, Max and Jesse and refused to take the endless calls that Jesse bestowed upon her. Her
phone had been off for the first week, unwilling to take any calls and texts as she spent the duration of Christmas alone.
"I've already packed your things," She says matter-of-factly, waving her hand toward the bedroom door. "You can just grab
the bags and go."
She's already said enough, and without looking at the blonde, she retreats behind the counter of the kitchenette and
reaches into the fridge, staring at the bottle of wine that lays dejected on it's side on the bottom shelf. She had bought it a
week ago and hadn't touched it; she knew it wasn't a way to deal with heartbreak but sometimes the temptation was too
hard to pass up.
The wine is pulled free and the screw uncapped. It's cheap shit that probably tastes like crap, but she needed something
with a high alcohol content and that was all she needed. She grabs a wineglass and pours herself half, not willing to drink
a full glass of wine in front of her ex.

She wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

Wine glass in hand, she turns around and stops in her tracks when she realizes that Quinn hasn't even made a move.
She's still stood by the door, looking to the ground.
"Are you seriously making me go grab your bag?" She scoffs, taking a long gulp of her wine and slamming the glass
down on the counter, shocked it doesn't shatter. "Fine." And she rounds the counter, storming toward her bedroom to grab
the bags that had been packed only a day after Quinn left. There's only two; essentials that Quinn would need, toothbrush,
perfume and deodorant, clothes, underwear and her drawing equipment.
Heaving two bursting to the seams gym bags into her hands, she lugs them into the living room, where Quinn still hasn't
moved. She frowns and drops the bags to Quinn's feet angrily, "There. You can go now."
And she's just about to turn back to the kitchen, because that disgusting wine is somehow calling to her, Quinn's hand
snatches out and grabs her by the wrist. She stops and tenses, gritting her teeth, just about ready to rip her damn arm
away.

"Let go of me and go, Quinn."

"I wish you'd stop calling me Quinn." Rachel's head snaps toward her ex and she gasps when she's welcome by gleaming
golden eyes. Somehow, she feels a lump right in the back of her throat, tears sting her eyes and she remembers the
words that Maxwell had spoken only a week ago.

Q never wished to lie. Should Q be punished for a choice she never wanted to make?
"Q" She whispers, turning to face her, "What are you-?" She breaks off, not really knowing what she's asking. For all
intents and purposes, she thought that Quinn would come collect her belongings, not have her wolf do it for her. Was she
that ashamed of what she had done? That she couldn't bare to face the hurt she had given Rachel?

She frowns, "Why isn't Quinn here? Too ashamed?"

Q shakes her head, "Noshe just knows that any chance of this getting fixed lands on my shoulders." Rachel's eyes
narrows, "Rachel, I truly understand why you threw Quinn out. I tried to tell her to tell the truth, practically begged and
whined and I never do that. But when it comes to you, all preconceptions of my heritage jumps out of the window."

She should feel happy about that little admission, but if anything, it goes right over her head.

"Then why didn't she listen to you?"

Q's eyes soften, golden eyes gleaming softly, "She was terrified to lose you. She thought that if she went over your head
and put her foot down over your decision, that you would walk away from her. She just didn't really truly put any thought into
what lying would do." Rachel looks away, biting down on her bottom lip, "She didn't realize that by keeping you around, by
her side, that she was forcing you away, and that when she finally had to tell the truth, you would walk away."

Q steps forward, releasing her wrist from her gentle but strong grip, "Rachel, she hates herself for what she did. We're
both plagued by dreams that destroy us each and every day. We can't deal with this without you. I can't deal without you."

Rachel looks back, "You can't?"

And she knows she's taking a great leap, but she locks Quinn away further into the back of her mind, not allowing her to
speak, or to hear her thoughts. She steps forward once more, almost chest to chest with her mate and drifts the tip of her
finger along the mark Rachel once wore proudly over her collarbone. Now covered with a mountain of make up, the mark
can't be seen, but Q has that mark memorized; she knows where every tooth mark is, where the mark was made, she can
outline it from memory.
Rachel stiffens from her touch, but she doesn't shy away, Q continues to run her finger along that mark, dropping the pad
of her finger down to feel the soft heat that pours from Rachel's body.
"You're my mate and everyone knows that a wolf mates for life." Rachel's head snaps up from her mark, "It's you and only
you, Rachel. There is no second chance for me."
"And Quinn?"

Q's brows furrow, "She could fall in love again, but I wouldn't allow it. Human's are rare in that respect; they can get back
up and love again, but I won't allow it."

"Maybe you should," The singer whispers, bottom lip quivering, "Because I think I hate her."
The blonde's finger stops and pulls away, almost as if it was burnt, "You don't mean that."

"Maybe not, but the feeling I have inside me right now is the same feeling I have for Leroy. He broke my heart and so did
Quinn. I gave everything I had to give emotionally and she threw it away by lying to me. Lying destroyed everything I held
close to me and I had to endure my own father crying himself to sleep each and every night. She knew and she still did it. I
just can'tI can't understand it."

"Rachel"
"I hate her butyou have redeeming qualities that I can't seem to ignore."

"We come together, Rachel." Q shakes her head, "We're a pair. I am Quinn and Quinn is me. I can't change that."
"You would have never lied though, right?"

And fiercely, Q replies, "Never."

Rachel nods, heading toward the wine glass that still sits dejected on the kitchenette counter. She sips as it, soft sips,
trying not to cringe at the almost acidic taste that laces the alcohol.
"Quinn made a mistake, Rachel, but that doesn't mean she's completely at fault. She's human. You once lied to her about
leaving the play, did you not?"
Her hands clench around the glass; she had completely forgotten about that.

"Would you have continued to lie if she hadn't found out?" Q's voice grows closer and she shuts her eyes, feeling that
familiar warmth as it melts into her back. She's so unbelievably tempted to lean back and allow Q's arms to wrap her up
tight, to feel that safety she once so adored, but she finds solace in her wine glass and continues to sip. "Would you
have?"
And she whispers quietly, "I don't know."

She almost senses Q nod behind her, "Exactly. Human's lie and that's their fault, it's a fault of your own also. Quinn found
out that you had lied, but she didn't walk away from you, did she?"

"A few days is different to two years." She slams down the glass again and turns, shooting back at how close Q truly is,
until the counter digs against the bottom of her back, "Two years, twenty-four months." She shakes her head, tears
threatening to drop, "She proposed to me and then told me the truth. How messed up is that?"
Q shakes her head, "I'll admit, her timing was a little off balance."
"A little?"

"Okay, maybe a lot."

Rachel sighs and looks away, the wine glass is completely drained now and that bottle in the fridge is calling her name.
She just wants to drown her sorrows in that bottle, take a long hot bath and then collapse into bed. Another day gone,
another day over without Quinn in her life. She could do it. She'd done it for almost two weeks, right? Even if the first week
was just with her curled up in bed crying into Quinn's old pillow.
"I'm scared I won't ever be able to forgive her. I'm scared I'll just deal with her like I dealt with Leroy and Michael."

"I can't exactly attack myself."

Rachel gasps.

"Wow, that was a terrible joke, I do apologize." Q scratches the back of her neck, "I'm sorry, I'm not very good at this."
Rachel nods, barely, slowly beginning to slide herself around the counter to get to the fridge. "It's okay, I understand." She
pulls open the fridge door and pulls out that nasty but glorious bottle of wine free.
"You're drinking now?"

She almost stops herself from unscrewing the cap, but does it anyway and pours herself a glass, a full one this time. She
leaves the bottle on the side and takes a big gulp of the wine, this time cringing at the force of acidity that makes its way
down her throat.
"I've had this bottle for a while."

Q's eyebrow flicks up, the mirror opposite of Quinn's and she sighs, glancing down at the glass clutched in her mate's
hand, "You shouldn't drink."

"You can't tell me what to do."

"Rachel, you're still my mate, regardless if I'm living with you or not."

"Why didn't she trust me enough to tell me?" She says, almost out of the blue, slamming the glass right back down to the
counter. Now she's shocked it hasn't shattered with the abuse it has gone through in the past half hour, "Why couldn't she
trust me to understand?"
Q shrugs, "Human's don't truly understand the way wolves works. Of course, you've learnt a great deal, but you don't really
understand the urges that runs through our veins. We need power sometimes, and especially to an Alpha like myself, it's
an insatiable urge. It's almost as bad as when I was first urging for you."

Rachel runs her fingertips along the countertop, watching them skim across the surface, "You need the power that bad?"
"As an Alpha," Rachel glances up, "Yes."

And the singer nods, "Why couldn't she tell me and explain that? I understand after what you've told me. I would have
understood if she would have told me."

"Fear, as I've told you. You put your foot down, so much so that you began crying, which destroys us both more than you
may think. She thought that if she told you she was going to do it, that the fear of losing her would make you walk away
before you were too hurt to recover."
"She did it for my own good, that's what you're saying?"

Q nods, "That's how I understand it to be."

"It still sucks," Rachel grumbles, taking another long gulp of her wine, "And it hurts," She sniffles, watching her own tear
drip onto the edge of her wineglass and into the small pool of wine that remains, "It hurts so badlyso much more than
Leroy tearing my family apart."
"You love her. Love for someone you share your life with is different to the love you have for a family member or a friend."
Q sighs, "Rachel, I understand how hurt you are. I can feel it." Rachel glances at her, "I can smell your scent and it's
destroying me. You're hurt and disappointed and I can't tell you how much it hurts to know you're disappointed in me."

"I'm not disappointed in you," Rachel whispers, "If you had been in control, you would have told the truth."
"I know, but like I said, a wolf never lies."

"But a human does," The singer replies, voice soft, "Right?"

Q nods, "People don't like to admit it, but they do."
"We should all be wolves then."

Q openly chuckles at that, bracing her elbows on the countertop, "Perhaps." Rachel locks eyes with her and when she
sees the soft and almost familiar smile on Q's lips, she feels herself slowly begin to melt, "A world of wolves is a world I
would fight to live in."
"Really?"

Q nods, "I am a wolf, first and foremost. Being in a community of wolves makes me feel as if I'm at home, no matter where
in the country I am. Of course, my breeding ground was Lima, but if there's a huge community of werewolves, I can make
anywhere my home." Q grins, "Wolves are useful like that."
And a sudden thought invades her; an idea that she hadn't given any thought in over two years since both Quinn and Q put
their foot down over it. But if Q is willing to override anything she says due to personal needs, shouldn't she?
"Wouldn't it be funny if I was a wolf?"

When Q's eyes snap wide, she glances down to her wine glass and drains the remaining sips. It calms her racing heart
and mind, and she's about to grab the bottle to pour herself another glass, but Q is grabbing it and sliding it away, down to
the end of the counter where she can't grab it.
"Why would you say that?"

She just shrugs, "It's always been on my mind."

"I thought we'd spoken about this. The chances of you surviving such a change are one in a million."

"But if I was willing to do it?"

"I'd put my foot down."

"And I'd put it down right back," Rachel's eyes cut fiercely to Q, "You told me that if you wanted something that you'd put
your foot down, even if it hurt your mate. What if I want this so badly that I put my foot down too?"

"Rachel"
"I'm your mate, you can't deny me."

Q's eye twitches, "Don't say that."

"Why?" She circles the counter, pulling Q to face her, "Why can't I say that to you?"

"Quinn has the capacity to say no, I may have it to, but it's not as strong."
"What do you mean?"

"It's something I want with every fibre of my being."

Rachel tongue darts out, wetting her achingly dry lips, "So why not do it?"

"I could kill you." Q forces out, "And then you know what would happen? Quinn would kill me."

"QI want this," Her eyes tear as she looks up at the wolf she loves, "At least then I'd be able to understand why the
power is insatiable. Maybe then I'd be able to understand and forgive Quinn."
The temptation of forgiving Quinn assaults her; this is why she came today. This is why she didn't ask twice when Quinn
forced her into her body. She came here with a mission to walk out with Rachel's acceptance and forgiveness. She could
get it.

All she'd have to do is-,

"You'd forgive Quinn if I changed you?"
"I'd probably understand why she did it a lot more than I do right now." She knows she's tempting Q, the heat that naturally
radiates off of her is seemingly getting warmer, but she steps forward, pressing her chest against Q's. She needs to
understand; she's constantly out of the loop, constantly the last to know about things that mean something to Quinn. She
wants to share that bond with Quinn and have that power that surges through Quinn's body each and every day.
She can't live without it anymore.

It's just not fair.

"Q?"
Golden eyes look back at her, wide and afraid, "Yes?"

"Change me."
*Chapter 22*: The Point of No Return
I have no excuses for leaving this so long. I suck, that much is certain. I suffered from a terrible writers block for almost a
month, and then found it virtually impossible to write what I wanted to. Like I said, it's no excuse, and I'm sorry if this wasn't
worth the wait. But I wanted to get this out there. Thank you so much for your patience and I love each and every one of
you.

A salt sting assaults her eyes as she finally cracks them open. The early morning sun shines in through the open blinds
and she sighs shakily to herself. She's still on the floor, curled up, almost like a child, unmoving throughout the night.
She had cried herself to sleep the night before, and managed to catch a few restless hours. Weak arms rise and she
wipes away the sting that assaults her eyes and cheeks. The blurriness fades eventually, but even then, she wishes it
would return. Her eyes glance over the bed, their bed, and sees the unmoving figure amongst the strewn sheets.

Weakly, she sits up, pressing her back to the far wall, pushing herself against it. The heat attacks her eyes and she feels
the oncoming onslaught of more tears. It hits her once more; she remembers what she had done the night before and it
tears her apart from within.
She never knew heartbreak could be so literal; it feels as if someone is slowly chipping away, biding their time until they
hit down with full force, shattering it. Rachel, stoic and completely lifeless, lays in their bed, a soft smile locked on her lips.
A broken sobs escapes her lips and she cups her shaking hands over her mouth, trying to keep those breathless sobs at
bay, trying to control them, but it just makes them hurt all the more. She slams her head back against the wall, squeezes
her eyes shut and cries, wishing she could go back and change the decision that ended her happiness.

"No. No way in hell, there's no way I'm going to do that." She crosses her arms over her chest, unwilling to hear Rachel's
demand, "We've spoken about this Rachel, and I stand by my decision."

"Will you just stop being pigheaded for once?" Rachel sighs, soft and breathless, fingertip trailing over the rim of her
wineglass, "I mean - will you just listen to what I have to say? Please."

Gold eyes drift away, shooting across the face of the fridge door; a vegan takeout menu, a cat calendar that Rachel
demanded they both have to keep their date nights in check, several receipts for groceries and appliances, ones she
doesn't even remember purchasing, it seems like so long ago now.
It seems like so long ago that she once lived in this tiny apartment; it had been a complete mess when they'd moved in.
The place looked like it hadn't seen a dusty in years and the appliances were so old it looked like an 80's throwback. The
fridge, although ancient, was something they'd kept thanks to Quinn's endless pleas. It somehow fit into the room, even
though it was a garish green, but there was something about it that made her want to keep it.
Of course, Rachel hadn't been happy, but they'd kept it nonetheless. So if Rachel was willing to give her things that she
wanted, she could only do the same for mateto a certain point.
"Fine, go ahead." She'd listen, but not necessarily do. It was a suicide mission, both she and Quinn knew that, there was
no way in hell she was going to do it. But Rachel could be incredibly subtle at times; she'd picked this up over the years,
especially after moving to New York. She could somehow, indirectly, make you do what she wanted. And as an Alpha, she
wasn't going to get sidetracked, she wasn't going to give in; she was going to give her mate the right to speak and then
shoot down the idea and move on.

"Okay," Rachel nips at her lower lip, grabbing the stem of the wineglass and turning to place it softly in the bottom of the
sink. Her hands clasp around the rim, steadying herself, "I'm going to tell you the truth, okay?" She doesn't even look over
her shoulder, even though she knows that Q prefers eye contact.
Q's arms tense in reflex; what kind of truth were they talking about here? "Okay" She never lets her voice waver, and
even takes the time to steady herself before replying. God damn human bodies; a wolf would never have this issue.
"Should you always feel like you're alone with someone you love?" Rachel barely looks over her shoulder at her, but
notices that Q's eyebrow flicks up. She stares down into the depths of the kitchen sink, trying to lose herself within it, "She
was here, we said we loved one another, we ate together, we slept together butI always felt some sort of distance with
her. Like she wasn't really there?"
Her hands clench around the sink, harder, tighter, until she feels the rounded metal dig into the palms of her hands, "She'd
kiss me goodbye andit felt as if there was nothing behind it. In school, I always felt her urge, our first few years here, I felt
her love, and nowI feel nothing."

Q feels a blast of warmth hit her square between the eyes, feels the tears that are beginning to gather there, willing
themselves to fall. She always assumed that once she had bitten and marked Rachel, they would be together until their
end of days, but now she understands the fear that holds Quinn back, holds her at bay and down right terrifies her.
Humans cling to things they love and adore, hoping to keep it close. Love is one of the things that keeps them going,
keeps them from collapsing into themselves, but most importantly, it stops them from giving up. Wolves only love once,
and if that love were to fade, they could never love again. They'd never feel the pain of a love walking away, or dying, or
being with another. Humans, however, have the capacity to love more than once.
Quinn often told her that it was a blessing and a curse, and Q never truly understood what she meant, until now. Heartache
is something no one wants to feel, and if you are unfortunate enough to feel it, once is enough. Wolves only need feel it
once, humans feel it as many times as they fall in love.

Q can barely stomach the feeling now; how could Quinn deal with this more than once?
"You feel nothing when you kiss her?" She chokes out before clearing her throat, clenching her arms tighter across her
chest, almost protecting her from the hurt that Rachel wishes to deal.
"No, not like that," She finally turns, pressing the bottom of her back into the countertop when she sees the look in Q's
eyes. She's never seen that look before, a mixture of despair and disappointment. She looks almost childlike, lost, a little
baby cub that had just been born. She wonders, briefly, what Q looked like as a cub. "I mean, that there's nothing behind
the kisses anymore. I still love her, I still love you, butit feels like she only kisses me because she has to."
"She has been put under considerable pressure lately."

"I know," Rachel blows out a long breath, "But feeling empty kisses for two years, does something to a girl. You know?"
"I wouldn't-," Q stops, "I'm a wolf, Rachel," She sighs, distraught, "I don'tunderstand these feelings, I don't know what to
tell you."
Rachel's eyes soften, "I know," She's disappointed that someone as wise as Q doesn't have the answers she needs. Q
may be a part of Quinn, but Q still isn't human, she probably won't ever understand the complexities of human emotions,
even if she lived in one. "It's okay."

"I just-," Q drops her arms to her sides, watching them as they hang limply at her sides, "You're it for me."
And the singer slumps against the countertop, defeated, "I know."

"A wolf only mates for life," Q's eyes drift off, locked and unfocused on a crack in a kitchen floor tile, "Without you, I can
never love again. Without you, I'm an Alpha without a pack. Without youI'm nothing." Her eyes drag up and lock with
Rachel's, "You can't tell me to do this."
"Q" Rachel sighs and pushes away from the sink, circling the counter so she can stand before her wolf. She runs her
hands up shaking forearms, allowing the tips of her fingers to memorize each and every bump of muscle and bone. She
feels the tension melt away from Q with each touch, so she keeps doing it; the same meticulous movements that calms
her down. "I feel nothing, because I understand nothing."
Q's eyes snap open, "What do you mean?"

"Quinn has always been an enigma to me, I'll admit, but somehow, I've always been able to understand the reasons
behind her actions. But now, I can't. I'm locked away from knowing the one thing that will make me understand her fully and
it's driving me" She shakes her head slowly, "Insane. I can't focus, I'm worried, I'm terrified that I'll get a call one day
saying she won't be coming home."

"That's normal human behaviour," Q reasons, "Everyone worries that at one time or another."
"But not because their loved one is dealing with an issue of the wolves. You're an Alpha, Q. You're putting yourself at risk,
simply for being one. People want your head because they see you as a risk, you need a pack to protect you, you need to
stand your ground; that, I understand."

"But?"
"I don't understand why you need to fight William. I don't understand Quinn's transfixion with power and her need to have
it." She pauses, drifting her fingers down Q's inner forearm, letting them rest on the thundering heartbeat of her wrist, "I
don't understand what it is to be a wolf."

Q's eyes carefully watch Rachel's hands at her wrists, and she wills her heart to slow, but it doesn't respond. Her heart
feels as though it'll burst from her chest, she feels like she's going to throw up; her mind tells her one thing, and her heart
tells her another. Which choice does she take? With path does she follow? "W-Why don't you re-read your powerpoint?"
"Please take this seriously," Rachel replies, annoyed.

"I am." Q snaps pulling her arms away, "I am taking this seriously, and yes, I understand your reasoning, okay? But I don't
understand why you'd want to make a decision that would most certainly end your life!"

And there's silence for a long time, shimmering gold eyes staring defiantly into wet brown. She understands why Rachel
needs this, she understands why Rachel wants this, but she'll never understand how she could so easily make a decision
that could end a life that she fought for.
In one second, with one small bite, a life could be ended.
Rachel wasn't seeing the bigger picture and it drove her insane; she needed to know how it feels, how it feels for a wolf to
lose someone that they love and adore to such a foolish decision.
She digs around in her jacket pocket, fumbling for that damn nuisance of a phone that Quinn always has to have on her. It
takes her a while, especially with shaking fingers, to get the damn thing unlocked, but she does it eventually.
Working this phone is deceptively hard, and it takes her almost a full minute to find Quinn's phone book. She scrolls,
fingers still shaking, until she comes across the name she needs and sighs. She holds the phone right up to Rachel's face,
"Call him and ask him what it was like."

But Rachel doesn't move and Q bites on her lower lip, "Call. Him."
Rachel stares past the phone, defiantly.

"Call him!"

And Rachel's hand shoots up, clasping the phone, bringing it down from her face. Q lets out a long sigh of relief; now she'll
finally understand why she can't do it. She'll finally understand the horror story that she'd heard long ago about the human
that wished to be changed. She'll understand why Q won't do it.

Rachel brings the phone to her ear, and Q can hear the monotone ring echoing throughout the stillness of the room and it
sets her on edge. She only hopes he'll say the right thing to dissuade her mate.

"Hi, Russell, it's me."

There's a pause and Rachel's eyes pin hers; she can feel the rage beneath the chocolate brown and it sets her on edge.
The only time she'd ever seen Rachel look like that was when she'd thrown Quinn out of their bed for lying. She stuffs her
hands in her pockets and waits.

"Yes, I was just wondering" But then Rachel walks away, walks through the apartment and into their bedroom. "I need to
ask you something." And the door is shut.

She knows she shouldn't do it, mostly because this isn't really her apartment anymore, but she ducks her head into the
fridge and looks for something to eat. The shelves are bare, obnoxiously bare. There's a carton of soy milk, vegan friendly
butter, an opened can of tomato and basil soup and half a loaf of bread that Quinn despises.
She sighs, knowing she's going to go hungry for a little while longer, but her nose lets her onto a familiar scent. She takes
one long sniff, holds it, and then blows it out. She knows that smell; that glorious fucking smell that any carnivore would
bend over backwards to have.

The crisper, where Rachel demands the salad be kept: I refuse to have soggy salad, Quinn Fabray! Is giving off a smell
she knows all too well. She pulls it open and smirks down at the bounty that's revealed to her. Deli meat up to the eyeballs;
ham, pastrami, chicken, turkey, beef and even a few scotch eggs that she practically lived off during her second year of
college.

But from what she can tell, and smell, is that the meat is fresh, and it's barely had time to stink up the entire fridge as
Rachel often complained of. It was put here only recently. She takes two slices of each meat, rolls them up into a thick
sausage and stuffs the whole thing into her mouth before shutting the fridge door to check out the receipts.
Four from the top is the receipt she needs; East Village Meat Market & Deli. It checks out, every single item in the fridge
is on it, but what confuses her is the fact that it was only dated a day ago. A day and a half to be exact. Q frowns, flipping
the receipt over in her hand, hoping that it'll give her some sort of answer as to why Rachel was buying meat even though
she was Vegan.
She puts it back, flicking through the rest of the receipts. They date back till the day after Quinn had left, and each week,
Rachel went to same the same Deli and bought the exact same meat every time.
But why? She sticks the magnet over the receipts and opens the fridge once more. She wants to eat, but really, she wants
to distance herself from the bedroom door. She can easily hear what Rachel is saying, but she knows that this is a
conversation Rachel needs to have without her eavesdropping. So she busies herself. She takes that God awful bread -
since when did bread have seeds in it? - and takes each envelope of meat and spreads them out on the countertop. It
smells divine, heavenly, and she wishes she could just face plant the damn thing but that wouldn't really look good for when
Rachel emerged.

So she makes herself a sandwich, and maybe takes a little too much time on placing each slice of meat, but she feels a
pull toward the bedroom door and she needs something to dissuade her from pushing her ear to the door.
She's finished the sandwich, even with that nasty bread, and contemplating another, when Rachel emerges, eyes rimmed
red, sniffing, phone clutched in her hand like a lifeline. Q circles the kitchenette counter, rushing toward her, holding the
frail girl that looks as if she's about to faint.
And when Rachel cries into her chest, she can't help but smile, because she knows she's dissuaded her prying mate. She
hushes her, rubs her back, kisses the top of her head and tells her it'll be okay; because it will be, they don't need to do it
now.

Eventually, Rachel finds the strength to pull away, and wipes her nose on the sleeve of her sweater in a move that makes
Q grimace slightly, "Do you feel better now?"

"No" It's shaky, and if it wasn't for Q's good hearing, she might not have even heard it. Rachel walks away from her,
small cautious steps, that take her to the living room couch. Q watches silently, watches as Rachel leans back, props the
heels of her feet on the edge of the couch and burrows her face into her knees.
"What did he say, exactly?"

But Rachel just shakes her head, another round of sobs attacking her body, "I-It doesn't matter."
"Why?" Q comes up beside her, gently resting on the arm of the couch. She extends her arm across the back of it,
fingering the errant strands of Rachel's hair. She's missed this, being able to do something so simple, yet so significant to
her.

"Because," She looks up, bottom lip trembling, eyes wide, almost like a scared child, "I still want to do it."
And Q just sighs.

"Will you call him?" Rachel asks, exhausted, on the verge of collapsing, "Please?"
"Who?" She's against the wall by the TV, legs outstretched, head pressed back against the wall, eyes shut. They've been
silent for over an hour now, not knowing what to say.
"Alfred."

Q sighs, dropping her chin down to her chest, "And say what, exactly?"
"That I'm willing and you need his advice."

The wolf chuckles humourlessly, "I know what he'll ask. There's no point."
"And what's that?"

"If I'm willing."

"Are you?"

They're silent once more, Rachel shutting her eyes and dropping her head back against the couch. She's physically and
emotionally exhausted; she doesn't know what to feel anymore. All she wants is Q to agree.

She's on the verge of passing out completely when she hears Q's voice, terrifyingly frail, "Does it make me a bad
persona bad wolfto say I don't know?"

Rachel just shakes her head, "No. It makes you an honourable one."

Two hours later, Rachel's passed out on the couch and Q is sat on the kitchenette counter, munching on yet another
sandwich. This time, it does nothing to sate the hunger that sits at the bottom of her stomach, in fact, all it does is distract
her from Rachel's decision.

She rolls a bite around in her mouth, barely tasting it, barely acknowledging the mustard she had put on this one, and
swallows. She should be enjoying this sandwich, she should be happy and content, she could be hunting with her pack
and play fighting.
But all she can feel is an emptiness inside her and it's driving her insane.

"How do you deal with this?" She whispers, taking another bite of her sandwich.

It takes years to get used to it.

"What do I do?"

Idon't know.
Q sighs, "That helps," She dusts off her fingers and jumps off the countertop, circling the couch to look down at Rachel.
She looks so peaceful, so childlike; almost as if today hadn't even happened to her. "I can't change her mind, no matter
what I say or do."

She'sstubborn like that. Qyou need to call Alfred, we need his help with this.
"How could he possibly help?"

A lot more than we're helping ourselves at the moment.

She sits in the kitchen, cradled in the corner by two countertops as she clutches the phone in her hand. The Noble's house
phone is highlighted but she can't bring herself to hit the call button. Even though Quinn kept in constant contact with Alfred
and Cybil, they had never really spoken about the prospect of turning Rachel fully.
It scared her.

What would Alfred say if she told him that deep down inside, she truly wanted to change Rachel into a wolf? Would his
opinion of her change? Would he tell her she was being reckless, stupid, a common mutt with no sense of morality? She
had never seen the man angry, even after she attacked him so brutally during their training session all those years ago.
Would this finally be the issue that cracked that calm faade?
He thought of Rachel as a granddaughter, that much was certain. He adored her, and so did Cybil. Last Christmas, when
they had gone to Lima for the holidays, Cybil and Alfred demanded that both she and Rachel spend a few days at their
home. It was a huge event, and the whole Fabray clan was invited, even Frannie and her family.
They had all adored Rachel. Frannie had sat for hours, bouncing her toddler on her lap while Rachel went on and on about
Juilliard and their life in New York. Quinn thought that Frannie would get bored eventually, but whenever she tried to
interject, Frannie told her to 'buzz off' and let the girl talk.

But Quinn just smiled. If her family could handle Rachel's ramblings, it was a sure sign that they all adored her.
Alfred and Cybil had told her not to be a stranger, and she hadn't. She called them every week, and they spoke for at least
an hour. Of course, those phonecalls were almost non-existent now thanks to how busy she has been. College, William,
Jesse and Rachel had taken up all the time she had.

But now she needs her tutors advice, because it's obvious, that even what her father had said, hadn't been enough to
dissuade her mate.

She hit's the call button and holds it to her ear, the pounding of her heart almost beating in sync with the monotonous
ringing tone.

"Noble household. Alfred speaking."

"AlfredIt's Q."

"Ahhhhh! My dear girl! Long time no speak! How are you?"

She smiles softly at his sweet but low voice; it calms her and she melts back against the counter, "I'vebeen better.
How're you and Cybil?"

"Oh, well you know us. We get along. She hasn't left me yet, so that's good, eh?"

Q smirks, "Yeah, that's good."

"So what's wrong? Why have you been better?" He groans, like he's adjusting himself in his seat, "Tell me."

"I ah" She glances around the corner of the kitchenette, trying to hear any sort of movement on the couch. She waits a
beat, hears nothing but Alfred's gentle breathing and sighs, "I have a problem."

"And what would that be?" There's a slight pause, "Is this about William St. James? Q, I told you to let it be."

Oh God, she hadn't even told him about the plan. She rubs at her eyes and shakes her head, forgetting that he can't see
her, "No, it's not that."
"Oh." Another pause, "So what is it? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Qyou're not helping me much, here. Will you please tell me what's the matter?"

"Rachel wants to change and I can't change her mind."

The silence consumes them both, and she nips at her lower lip, fighting off the urge to crawl out of her own skin when he
doesn't reply straight away. What would he say? Is this the time that he looks down upon an Alpha? Is this the time he turns
his back on her?

"Oh, Q"

And she sobs, because she has no idea what the hell to do. She's trying to desperately to keep it together, as a human,
as a wolf, as an Alpha, but she can't. She can't bring herself to deny her mate, but she can't bring herself to give in to what
she desires most. She's conflicted in everyway and she has no idea how to deal with it.
"I-I don't know w-what to do" This is pitiful, crying. A wolf never cries. But my God, it feels so good just to let everything
out. Being a human is weaker than being a wolf, but they did have some redeeming aspects. This crying business was a
God send for her stress levels.

"Q, hush. Hush. It's okay. We'll deal with this, okay?"

He says it with such certainty, that is slowly begins to calm her down. He orders her to take deep breaths, and she finds
that it calms her, not so much that she's chilled out, but enough that she doesn't feel like crying all over again. He comforts
her, soft words that lulls her into relaxation, and she finds herself slumping further back against the counter.

"Okay, so, she wants to change?"

"Yes."

"And you've obviously tried to disuade her?"

"YeahI even had her call my father. He obviously told her about his uncle's wife but"

"But?"

"She cried, and I thought she finally understood that it could kill her, butshe just said she still wanted to do it."

She hears Alfred sigh, then his voice somehow weakens, almost as if he's turned away from the phone, "She wants to
changeyes, I knowHold on, let me check." His voice clears, "Has she given a reason?"
Q sighs, "Every reason under the sun. She feels detached from both Quinn and I, she wants to do it for our children, she
wants to be a wolf because she finally wants to feel a part of our packwhat reason hasn't she given?"

"Hm" His voice weakens again, "I think you're better off talking to her about this, Cybil. You went through exactly what
Rachel is, right now."
There's a slight click and Cybil's voice melts into her, "Q? Sweetie?"

Why in the hell does she feel like crying again, "I'm here."

"Oh good. Alfie told me that Rachel wishes to be changed. Have you tried to dissuade her as much as you can?"

"I've run out of options"

"SweetieI know this is hard for you" Why does she feel like she's about to scrawl her handwriting down on her own
personal death scentence? "Butif Rachel wants this, desires this, needs this, you have to give it to her."

Q swallows the lump in the back of her throat, "W-Why?"

And Cybil sighs, soft and defeated, "A wolf cannot deny their mate. And from what I understand, she's been thinking
about this for a while. We spoke about it last Christmas when you were over here. QI don't think Quinn or yourself can
change her mind about this."
"But she c-couldshe could d-die."

"I know sweetie, I know. Do you really think that your father's uncle wanted to change his mate? He despised the
decision, and he often came to Alfred, asking if he could change her mind. But once your mate makes their decision,
you can't keep denying them. It creates a weak link within your pack, Q, and you can't have that as an Alpha."
"I'll be the weak link if she dies, Cybil"

A shuttering sigh on the other end of the phone and Q clenches her eyes shut, "I love that girl, Q, as if she were my own
granddaughter. I adore her, I truly do, and because I do, I cannot fully deny her need and want for this."
Q slams her head back against the countertop, somehow hoping that the action will bring a new idea into her head, a new
hope, "Why did you choose not to change?"
Cybil chuckles, "I didn't want to have fur."

And Q smirks, "That's all, huh?"

"I didn't particularly fancy the whole bone cracking thing, either. That scared the heebies out of me, sweetie."

"You get used to it" She sighs, softly, suddenly so tired.

"I'm sure you do, but this isn't about me. If Rachel wishes to change, if she demands it of you, as her mate, you cannot
deny her."
She wipes at her eyes with her jacket sleeve, fighting back the new wave of tears that threaten to burst, "The problem
is" She takes a ragged breath, and sobs out the rest.

"Sweetie? Q? I didn't quite hear that. Can you repeat it?"

"I-I want toto change her." She howls softly into her palm, "Oh mydoes that make me a bad wolf? That I want to
potentially kill my own mate?"

"There isa chance she could still survive, Q."

"Yeah" Q sighs, "A whole, but meaningless, one percent chance."

"A chance is never meaningless. Don't underestimate the power that a one percent can hold. Humans have been
changed before with no issues. Don't forget that."
"If I lose her"

"Qthis is your decision, okay? As a wolf, as an Alpha, you have to make the decision that will change your future.
Change Rachel, deal with the change or her potential death. Don't change Rachel, carry on or deal with her despising
you."
Q gnaws on her inner cheek, "Wow, did you need to be so blunt about it?"

"Would you rather I sugar coat it?" Cybil asks, rather rhetorically, "This is a serious decision, we both know that. Now
isn't the time to sugar coat anything. I'm giving you the facts, sweetie. Use them and make your decision."
"Okay" Q sniffles, "Can you put Alfred back on?"

"Of course, sweetie. Take care, okay? And don't hesitate to call at any time." It takes a second, but Alfred picks the
phone back up.
"Does it make me a bad wolf that I want to change her?"

"Not particularly. Every werewolf with a human mate wishes to change them at one time or another. It almost feels like
another urge, sometimes, more painful than an urge. As werewolves, we wish to have a mate that is a werewolf,
because of reproductive issues. It dates back hundreds, even thousands of years."
"Reproductive issues?"

"Ah, well, hundreds of years ago, werewolves needed to continue their lives, their packs, with their cubs. Of course, this
is exactly the same with humans. They wish to continue their DNA, their family name sake and genes, with children. It's
a simple act, one that defines mankind. As wolves, though, for a child to become a werewolf, they must be born to both
a werewolf mother and father."
"Werewolf/Human relationships were pretty rare back then, but it did happen. Often, wolves that mated with a human,
found that their child were born only half werewolf, with the inability to change. While the humans loved their children,
werewolves often shunned them, and in some cases, destroyed their children, ashamed of what they were and what
they had created."
"That'shorrible. They killed their own children because they didn't have pure werewolf blood?"

"Quite. This changed over the years of course. Changing became quite the craze during the 1800's apparently and the
death toll in Europe alone was staggering. Werewolves blamed it on the plague, which at the time, was forcing its way
across Europe. But of course, it was from the deaths of unsuccessful changes."
"I'm sure you're wondering why I'm banging on about this, but quite simply, a wolf feels the urge to change a human,
simply because of history, ingrained in their genes. A wolf, especially an Alpha, often craves a pure blood werewolf as
a child. If you were to have children with Rachel, through the use of a werewolf donor, Rachel would only give birth to a
hybrid."
"WouldI be shunned for having a half breed?"

"It's quite rare, but in some cases, yes. They wouldn't find you fit to lead a pack. You'd probably be even made an
Omega."
Q sneers, "Last of the pecking order. I refuse to become the one that begs for scraps."

"I don't blame you. But like I was saying, maybe your urge to change Rachel is simply because, in the future, when you
wish to have children, you wish to see her give birth to a pure werewolf."
"I hadn'treally given it any thought." She scratches the back of her head, eyes narrowed in thought, "Maybe. But
couldn't I bare the child?"

"Of course you could. In the wild, a run of the mill wolf Alpha will give birth, it's all they do, actually. But a werewolf, if an
Alpha were to become pregnant, especially in the role of leading a pack, they may find themselves pushed from their
position. You can't protect your territory while all your attention is focused on the little one growing inside of you."
She sighs and changes the phone to her other ear, "So what do I do, Alfred? Please, you have to help me."

"As my wife said, it's your decision. If this is something that Rachel wants, as her mate, you can't deny her."

"I know, that's all anyone says"

"I'm sure you're probably fed up of hearing that. But QQuinnno matter what happens, I want you to understand
something. If you choose to change Rachel, no matter what happens, I will always be so very proud of you."
She pulls her knees up to her chest, burying her face within them, trying to force back the tears.

"You have come a long way from the baby girl that used to run naked up and down the street." She has to chuckle at
that; good times, "And you've grown into a beautiful woman, a strong and courageous Alpha, and I have no doubt that
you'll make the right decision, regardless of the outcome. I love you both, and I always will." Then there's a pause, and a
light blow, like he's blowing his nose into a handkerchief, "Okay?"

She can only nod to herself and whisper a, "Okay," In return, scared she'll completely break down.

"Call meif you need anything else, okay?"

"Okay."

"Give my love to Rachel."

"Okay."

"I love you, Quinn."

"I love you too."

And she barely has the time to hang up before she breaks out into heaving sobs.

It takes thirty five minutes exactly - she watched that hideous smiling cat clock on the kitchen wall - to get up and walk over
the her sleeping mate. Rachel had barely moved, but somehow squished her face into the couch pillow. Her nose was
pushed up, and Q would have laughed at her mate's expression, but she was too weary.

Exhausted, barely even conscious of thought, she reaches down and softly shakes Rachel's shoulder. There's a grumble,
then a whine, and Rachel turns over, showing Q her back. With a sigh, Q shakes again, this time a little more vigorously,
"Rachel, wake up."
"Tired. Come cuddle."

"I don'tI can't fit on the-," And Rachel seemingly melts herself into the back of the couch, making just enough room for
her. She smiles softly, arranging herself on the couch. Her ass is hanging off and she's sure she's going to fall off sooner
or later, but she needs this closeness. She needs to be close to Rachel after all these weeks of holding nothing but air on
the couch in Jesse's one bedroom apartment.
Rachel smells just as she always does, a mix of her perfume, shampoo and her natural pheromones. It feels like home,
and Q pushes herself further against Rachel's back, clutching at her mate, holding her close.
"I love you so much. You truly have no idea what I'd do for you."

There's a grumble for a reply, but she knows that it's a loving reply nonetheless.
She listens to the soft whispers of Rachel's breath, soft and content in the hands of the sandman, and wills herself to sleep
too. But her mind races, so much so that the beginnings of a chronic headache is beginning to form behind her eyes. She
fights it off, barely, and melts into the warmth of her mate as comfort.
It's uncomfortable as all hell too, and although she could fall asleep on a clothes line, this isn't doing anything for her. So
she rolls off the couch, clambers to her feet and picks up her slumbering mate and holds her tight, bridal style.
"C'mon" She whispers, dropping a kiss to Rachel's forehead. With the strength she has, it almost feels as if Rachel
weighs nothing, and although she's tired, she has no issue of carrying Rachel into the bedroom and depositing her softly
on the bed.

The singer begins to stare, and blinks her eyes a few times before looking up into gleaming gold, "You're still here."
"Did" She looks over her shoulder, "Did you want me to leave?"

"No" And Rachel is pulling her onto the bed by her wrist. She turns onto her side and pushes herself against Q's front,
wrapping her arms around her neck, pulling Q's face to her neck, almost too close to the revealed mark on her collarbone.
"Did you call him?"
Q nods minutely against her neck.

"And?"
"Rachel" She pulls away, raising her hand up to brush her mate's bangs away from her eyes, "I want you to listen to me,
okay? This is the last time I'll put up a fight."
Rachel nods slowly, "Okay. Go ahead."

"A one percent chance isn't enough for me. If you die, I'll die right along with you. I'm not being drastically romantic here,
I'm telling you this as a fact. I can't love anyone else, you're my mate, I love you. With you gone, I'll have nothing, only an
empty heart and a pack I don't wish to control. My life will be meaningless without you in it. So please, think of me when
you make your decision."

"I am thinking of you," The singer whispers in return, leaning forward slightly to brush her nose against Q's, "I'm always
thinking of you." She kisses the tip of her nose and smiles when Q screws her face up, "I know that deep down inside, you
want me to be a wolf, and if the change was a hundred percent effective with no choice of death, I know for a fact, you
wouldn't hesitate."

And she wouldn't hesitate. Because along with the urge that she dealt with for most of her teenage life, another urge
underlined it; the urge to change her human mate. And just like Alfred had said, it wasn't something just she went through.
Other wolves went through this very same dilemma and it was a game of luck if their mate came through unscathed at the
other end.
"NoI wouldn't."
"I need this" And the brush of Rachel's lips against her sends her heart into overdrive; it's just a brush, but it feels so
undeniably perfect, "I need you to change me, Q." She squeals softly when Q pushes flat onto her back, wrists pinned
down against the mattress. "Please."

Q's eyes drift to the visible mark on Rachel's collarbone; faded with time, the mark is still there, ever present, a reminder
of their bond. It almost looks as if it's a piece of art; a perfect bite mark against golden skin. It's perfection.

With a ragged sigh, Q drops her forehead to Rachel's, stares into her eyes, holds them there and asks, "Yes or no?"
"Yes."

The Alpha's eyes squeeze shut, identical twin tears rolling their way down pale cheeks as she nods her head and moves
away, down toward the mark that calls her name. But Rachel's hand is on the back of her neck, holding her there, close,
safe, secure.
"Make love to me first."

Q's eyes shoot up from the mark, "Okay, I'll just get Qui-,"
"No." Q's eyes flutter shut when Rachel's nails dig softly into the back of her neck, scratching, relieving the ache in her
tense muscles, "You. I want you."
And all Q can do, looking up into the smiling eyes of her mate, is smile right back. After years of trying to make up for the
attack on Michael, for scaring and betraying her trust, it had finally come down to this. A moment of clarity, of forgiveness,
or pure love. All those years finally had a meaning, she fought to clear her name and fought hard, and now she had her
mate's forgiveness in the palm of her hand, unwilling to let it go again.
"Me?"
Rachel smiles, running her hand from behind her neck to cup her cheek, "I want you, Q." She drops her hand when Q
crawls back up her body, eyes shining like she's never seen before, she notices something, "Your eyes are clear."

"Huh?" Q frowns, turning her head to look into the mirror. Her eyes, usually locked solid gold, gleaming like the finest of
jewellery, "Why has it" The shade has dulled somewhat, but her eyes still seem to gleam; a muted gold takes place of
fierce gold.
"Mikado"

"Huh?" She turns her attention back to her mate, who is smiling softly.
"Mikado yellow. That's the shade. I've heard of this happening to wolves. Your father told me when we still lived in Lima.
Apparently, wolves eyes change colour when a burden is lifted from their shoulders."
"Somy eyes were never gold." Q looks back to the mirror, "But I still feel a burden. What colour would my eyes be then?"

She looks back down just in time to see Rachel shrug her shoulders softly against the pillows, "Who knows? Maybe they
may turn hazel."

"I'm sure Quinn would like that" She chuckles softly, leaning down to press her forehead against Rachel's. Together,
they breath in one another, absorb one another's touch. Rachel's hands in her hair, nose to nose, lips ghosting one
another, "Are you sure about this?"
Rachel fingers thick strands, "Yes." She sounds so positive, so sure, "You also need a haircut."

Q snorts, which almost sounds like a huff that her snout would make, "I'll put that on my, what you humans call, to do list."
"Please do." They laugh quietly, then fall into silence. Rachel calms her racing heart with working fingers against her scalp,
soft scratches that lull her into a quiet comfort. "Are you ready?"
"Eager?" She can't help but smirk.

"It's been weeks." Rachel shrugs, dropping her hands away, palms up against the pillow, "My fingers only do so much."
Q chokes on her own spit, "Wow, uhm" Then she coughs, because suddenly she can't breath, "Okay."

Rachel chuckles through a smirk, "Okay? That's all you have to say?" And she sits up, pushing Q up along with her. Then
suddenly, chest to chest, Q feels everything. She feels Rachel's breasts rise and fall against her own, a completely foreign
touch that has her mind reeling.
"I-I'm not" She drifts off when Rachel takes a hand in hers, never taking her eyes off of her own, and pulls the hand up to
her chest. She gasps when she feels Rachel's breast against her palm, feels the warmth, feels her heartbeat, my God,
feels everything.

Rachel holds her hand there and just watches as Q registers the touch, "You've never done this before, it's almost like
you're a virgin."

But Q doesn't reply, eyes and hand focused on Rachel's chest. It takes a gentle nudge of her hand against Q's that brings
her back to reality. Her eyes snap to Rachel's, "W-What? Sorry."

Rachel giggles, "You're a virgin again."

"I have no idea what that means."

"Before a person has sexual intercourse, they are dubbed a virgin. Although Quinn and I have had sex several times,
you've never felt it yourself, you've only dealt with the chemical reactions, correct?"

"Uhm, yes" And her eyes drift back down to Rachel's chest, "I think."
"It's better without my sweater on, you know."

"I-It is?" She mourns the loss when Rachel drops her hand and moves to pull her sweater over head. But she doesn't
mourn for long; oh they were perfect through that sweater but in nothing but a bra. She wonders if there's a wolf God she
can pray to. She often hears Quinn praying to some form of God when she and Rachel are having sex.
And then Rachel's hands are moving behind her back. She's sure she blacks out for a few minutes, because when she
refocuses, Rachel is sliding her panties down her legs and kicking them off the bed. Finally, fully naked, she lays down on
the bed, looking up at her fully clothed girlfriend.

"God" She really needs to swallow before she tries to talk, "Damn on a donut."
Rachel snorts, rather unladylike in her opinion, and runs her hand down to her stomach, brushing her fingertips across the
plane of her stomach, "I take it you like what you see."
"I see why human's like to have sexual intercourse so much."

"Mhm" She drifts her fingertips lower, watching as Q's eyes seem to follow them with each inch of movement, "I certainly
like sexmaking lovefucking"

"F-Fucking?"
"A crass way of saying sex. Usually, people say they like to fucked."

"And Quinn f-fucks you?" She can't get her tongue around that word, it sounds so foreign to her lips, although she's heard
Quinn say it almost every day since she turned thirteen.

Rachel nods, "Hard, sometimes rough, if I want it that way."

Q nods, watching those fingers dip so far down they're finally between Rachel's legs, "A-And you've been doing this?"

"Touching myself?"
She just nods, unwilling to tear her eyes away. She watches Rachel's finger slide down her slit, watching her collect the
moisture on the tip of her finger and bring it up to a small nub, rubbing it softly. She hears the hitch in Rachel's voice,
smells her pheramones, smells everything. Her mouth waters and her whole body aches to touch and taste her.

"Sometimes, when you're not home. When I'm thinking of you, I can't help it. Sometimes I just get so worked up I have to
disappear into this room and fuck myself until I'm screaming your name."

Q mouth gapes, and she licks at her lips when Rachel's hand pulls away, dragging a trail of moisture up her stomach. "It
smells good" She growls, "S'good"

"It tastes good too" She knows it's a hint; she may be new to this sort of stuff, but she isn't completely thick. And unable
to hold herself back, she dips her head down, burying her nose against Rachel's stomach. Her eyes slide shut when she
feels Rachel's hand drift through her hair, calming her. It's times like these, that she adores how well her mate knows her.
"Do you want to taste?"

Q nods against her stomach, "Yes." And she flicks her tongue out against that wet trail, groaning at the salt sweet taste
that invades her tongue. It's nothing like she's tasted before, and she leaves that taste on her tongue for as long as she
possibly can before the need to dip down for another taste consumes her.
She licks a hot stripe up Rachel's stomach and listens at how her mate's breath hitches as she does it. The tastes melts to
her tongue and she groans at how the taste and the needs consumes her. She's never felt it before, this wetness between
her legs and it's becoming too much to bare. But she disregards it and buries her face between Rachel's legs, holding her
at the waist as she flicks her tongue out against her swollen clit.
Rachel whines, clenching her thighs around Q's head, "F-Fuckohright there," Her hands clutch at the pillows as she
grinds her hips up into that working mouth, feeling that tongue batter her clit, flick and grind, but it's no where near enough.
Q is good with her mouth, but she needs, "Suck my clit."

Q's eyes snap up, and in a haze, she stares back. She knows an Alpha doesn't like to be ordered around, in fact, they
despise it, but this is getting her off. Ordering around someone who should never be ordered around.

"You heard me, Q." She clenches her thighs tighter around Q's head, biting down on her inner cheek when Q pulls away
and nips at her wet thighs, soft but strong bites that sends her mind reeling, "Suck my clit."

The growl does her in and she's just about to give up trying to order Q around when the blonde's mouth traps her clit and
sucks. Her back arches off the bed, pleasuring wrecking her entire body from the inside out. Q is relentless, sucking and
battering her clit with a quick fast tongue and it's slowly driving her to an edge she hasn't been able to bring herself to for
over a week.

"Yes, oh fuck yes, just like that Q, just like that, soso good," She whines and shoots her hands down to somehow push
Q's face further between her legs. She grinds her hips up, working herself against that glorious fucking mouth, "Make me
come."
Q's eyes snap up, watching Rachel's heaving chest, watching her face contort from pleasure. She's doing this; a wolf with
no experience is making her mate feel like this. She would smirk if her mouth wasn't so busy.

So she sucks harder, clenching her hands around Rachel's tense thighs, pulling her legs apart to taste more of Rachel's
"What do you call it?"

Rachel whines, "What? Call what? Just, get back to-," And she's trying to pull her back down, by the hair, but Q is having
none of it. She pulls Rachel's legs further apart and nods down, "Are you honestly asking what to call my vagina?"

"Vagina, okay."
"What? No, don't call it that."
"Butthat's what it's called, isn't it?"

"Qyou're ruining the mood."

Q frowns, "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean"

But Rachel's eyes soften and she drags her wet finger down the length of her wolf's face, "Vagina is rather clinical, people
prefer other names."

"What do you prefer?" Q turns her head, nuzzling that palm, softly licking at wet fingers. She already misses the taste of
her mate.

"Honestly?" Q nods, "Pussy."

"A feline?"

"Oh Moses"
"Sorry, I'llI'll ask about that later."

"Thank the Lord for small miracles." And she's pushing at Q's head again, pushing her back down between her legs. This
time, she's ready to trap the troublesome wolf between them. Q dives right back in, tongue lapping against her folds, the
underside of her clit, sending jolts of pleasure up and down her spine.
But then she feels something entirely new; Q poises a finger at her entrance and looks up at her, eyes wide, mouth
soaked, still working around her clit. It's a silent question and Rachel pleads as a reply, "Oh God, fuck me, Q."
The growl that Q gives off sends vibration against her aching clit, and she actually screams at how good it feels, "Fuck!
Yes!" And then Q's finger dips inside her, all the way to the second knuckle and it feels so unbelievably glorious. She's
soaked and the finger slips so easily in and out of her as she works her hips. She needs to be filled up, she needs to feel
Q consume her.
"Another finger," She gasps, turning her head to push her cheek into the pillow, "Another finger and fuck me hard."

Another finger is added before she even has the time to take a breath. She arches her back and holds herself there,
feeling those long and talented fingers bury themselves deep inside her. They slip away, and then push all the way back in,
then back out, and so begins a torturous rhythm that drives her completely insane. Her clit, battered by Q's tongue, only
adds to the pleasure, and she begins clutching at anything that'll ground her.

She writhes against tongue and fingers, pleading, begging, praising Q, praising that perfect fucking tongue that batters
her clit into submission. She feels the pinnacle of pleasure begin to consume her, and in those last final seconds, she
begs, "A third finger." Heaving for breath, trying to contain her scream for when she comes around her girlfriend's fingers
and mouth.

And it's there, she feels a third finger slip inside her and those tongue and lips, sucking and licking her clit have lights
exploding behind her eyes. She screams, clutching at Q's hair, holding her there as her hips ride out her orgasm against
the blonde's mouth. "Baby!" It consumes her, body and soul, and she feels the wave of euphoria completely envelope her
body. She feels each of her muscles tense, her pussy clench around those working fingers, sucking them in, holding them
there as she comes around them. And with a soft scream, she collapses against the bed, brow soaked with sweat, sated.
"Thank you."

But there's nothing in return. Q's lips move away from her sensitive clit, mercifully, but the fingers still remain. "Q?" She
looks down, exhausted, to see Q up on her knees, looking down between her legs.

"What's wrong?"
"I wantto fuck you again."

Rachel chuckles and wets her lips, "That's usually the case, but I'm a little tire-," She yelps when Q collapses on top of her,
"What are you doing?" And then she gasps, feeling those fingers work inside her, barely moving, but hitting her spot with
such a gentle ferocity, "Oh myQ! Fuck!"
She barely registers the movement of Q's hips against her, pushing those fingers deeper than they have ever been, and
all she can do is hold on for the ride. She wraps her arms around Q's neck, her legs around her waist and holds her close,
clutching for dear life as Q begins to fuck her to within an inch of her life.

The grinding starts out with almost no movement, but then it grows into a driving force, forcing those fingers deeper inside,
fingers hooked to hit against her spot with each and every thrust and Rachel screams at each brush against it.

She needs to feel Q against her, feel her skin, feel that heat melt against her as they fuck. She needs to feel that
closeness once more. "Take your clothes off," She whines against Q's blushing ear, "Take your clothes off and let me feel
you."

Q's voice, low and rough replies in a breathless whisper, "R-Rachel, you feel so good"
"I'll feel," She whines when Q's fingers drive harder inside her, "I'll feel better when you're naked. Take your clothes off,
baby."
There's a growl, a put out growl and she's gasping when those fingers are pulled from her. She feels so empty, but she
barely has time to register it because Q is ripping at her clothes; pulling at her jacket, ripping her shirt and jeans from her
body, and actually ripping the underwear apart until it falls to the bed in a useless heap. Muscles flex beneath pale skin
and Rachel grinds her hips up into the air, aching to feel her once more.
"Fuck me, Q." And the blonde collapses against her, three fingers sliding back inside her soaked and aching pussy,
"Fuck me hard."
"But-,"

"I know" Rachel whispers, kissing Q's ear, "I'm sure you like it hard too, don't you?" She trails her hand down between
their bodies, feeling the flex of Q's stomach as she drifts past it, "You like to be filled up and fucked?"

"I don't" Q gasps against her ear, "I don't know."

Rachel nips at her earlobe, "I'm sure you'll enjoy it, Q." She meets wetness, hot wetness that has her groaning in pleasure.
Q is completely soaked, thighs coated in her own come, "Is this for me?"
She barely feels Q nod, "For you."

"Do you want my fingers?"

"You know I do."

"Yesor no?"
The growl against her ear hits her square in the clit as she grinds her hips down against Q's fingers, "Answer me, Q. A big
strong Alpha like yourself should be able to answer a simple question, right?"
She's not fantastic at maths, but she knows full well that riling an Alpha up will equate to rough sex. It's something she
needs, something she craves; she needs Q to fuck them out of this rut. After this, she's going to be changed, through her
own choice, she needs to feel something different to the pain she'll feel when it happens. She needs to have that muted
buzz nestled between her legs as Q bites down, she needs to remember the pleasure of sex with her girlfriend when her
body begins to change.
She needs to hold onto something.
"Rachel."

"Or are you too weak to tell me truthfully how much you want me to fuck you?"
Q growls and slams her hips down hard, pushing her fingers as deep as they can go, holding them there between
clenched wet walls. She hears Rachel gasp against her ear, her free hand digging into Q's shoulder. "F-F-Fuck" She
lets the word out in one long breath. "Nice trybut" She takes a second to calm herself, "Yes or no?"

But Q can feel the wetness dripping down her thighs, feel Rachel's fingers poised at her entrance. She knows how badly
she wants it, but if she's being honest, she's a little bit scared. She's never felt something like this before; what if she
doesn't know how to deal with it? What if she doesn't like it? What if she can't achieve orgasm?
"What ifI don't like it?"

Rachel chuckles softly, "If Quinn likes it, I'm sure you will too. You have the same body after all."
"Oh," Why hadn't she thought of that? She frowns to herself, "Okay."

"Okay." Rachel grinds her hips down on those fingers, creating a small but pleasurable rhythm to keep herself going
through Q's silence, "Do you want me to fuck you, then?"

And Q bites down on her bottom lip, because Alpha be damned, she just wants to give in and feel something fresh and
new. She wants to feel her mate inside her, controlling her, pleasuring her; making her feel something she never thought
existed.
"Fuck me." She whispers quietly against Rachel's ear, and then she gasps, feeling two fingers slip deep inside her and
fuck, it's nothing like she's never felt before, and she knows now why Quinn swears by it. Rachel fills her perfectly, fingers
darting in and out of her pussy like a well known dance.
Together, they're connected, touching one another, feeling one another, and everything seems to slot into place. This is all
Q had ever wanted, since the attack on Michael, and now she was finally getting it. Years of trying to make up for her
mistakes had let to this one moment. Anything of what had happened, or what was due to happen, didn't matter anymore.
Now, together, they were locked in one moment, that she hoped would never end.

Rachel smirks, "Now fuck me hard, Alf."

And Q groans, annoyed at being called a nickname that she despised. "Don't call me that." And she pushes her finger,
grinds her hips down to force them deeper and then she feels it; Rachel pushing deep inside her with two skilful fingers
that play her so perfectly. "OhR-Rachel."

Rachel whines, "Do you like that?" And she moans, meeting Q's rhythm, "Do you like it when I fuck you, Q?"
But Q can barely talk, swept away with the touch of her mate, so she does all she can do. She nods against Rachel's
neck, sucking and licking at sweat soaked skin, twisting her fingers inside her mate, listening the pounding of Rachel's
heart, the hitch of her breath, the quiet screams, the sharp sting of nails against her shoulder. It's all too much, too much to
focus on.
"Oh Q, baby, you're so good." Rachel grinds her hips up, hoping to pull those fingers deeper, but instead, she's met with
Q's hips. "M-Move your hips to the left"
Q can barely register the plea, but does it nonetheless, "No, my left." And Q groans; was sex suppose to be this
technical? She moves and when she feels the sharp sting in her shoulder intensify, she knows she's in the right spot.
"Oh, you're learning," Rachel whispers hotly with a smirk.

"Well, I am a wolf." Q groans, driving her hips down harder, faster, dipping and grinding against her mate's aching clit,
"We learn quickly."

"Have I ever told youhow much I love that you're a wolf?"

"Y-Yeah"

"Well I'm telling you again," And Rachel clutches, tensing herself around Q's driving fingers, heightening the touch just that
little bit more, "Oh fuck, I love that you're a wolf." And they grind against one another, driving their fingers deeper, grinding
their clits against one another, melting into one another's pleasurable touch.
Q gasps for air, pulling herself away from Rachel's neck before she does anything she may regret when she feels a
tightening in her lower stomach. It grows and intensifies, and it first, it scares her, but it feels so unbelievably good and she
just doesn't know what to do. So she whines, forcing her hips faster against Rachel, holding her closer, panting and
growling into her ear as Rachel screams, obviously feeling the same sensation that she is.
Barely able to breath, consumed with lust and enveloped by wet heat, Q brings herself to a pinnacle that she's never felt
before and allows it to consume her when Rachel clutches at her, arches her back, tightens around her fingers and
screams out her name.

It completely destroys her. It rattles each and every one of her bones, her muscles tense so much that she feels they may
snap under the tension, and her clit bursts with unrivalled joy as a wave of pleasure ripples all the way through her body.
She shakes and growls, allowing the feeling the consume her. It feels almost as if it's never ending, as though it'll never
stop, and she's almost scared she'll die from it.

But the pleasure begins to ebb away, leaving her within a quiet contentment, Rachel's fingers still inside her, her free hand
running up and down her quivering back. She feels the kisses to her temple next, then hears over the roaring of her ears,
Rachel's whispers of "I love you."
She whispers it back, because in that moment, it was the only thing that gave what she felt words.

"You're leaving?" Rachel asks, wrapping the sheets around her bare waist, "Why?"
"Thisis something that Quinn needs to do." She's already pulled on her shirt and pants, sans underwear as it lay strewn
on the bed, "I've had my time. This should go to her. She's your girlfriend."
"Fiance..." Rachel whispers, looking down to her lap.

Q gapes, then smiles, softly, "Really?"

"After thismaybe" Rachel clears her throat quietly, "Maybe I'll finally understand and be able to forgive her."

Q nods, "I hope" She can't even finish the sentence, because quite possibly, this is the last time she'll ever speak to
Rachel, "Well, I'llsee you soon." Oh God, she hopes she does.
At that, Rachel raises her head and smiles, tears making their way down her cheeks, "See you soon."
And as Q disappears back into the depths of Quinn's mind, she can't shake the fact that Rachel didn't sound too sure with
that promise.

"Hi."

"Hey."
"Soyou're sure?"

"Positive."
"You can change your mind, you know. I won't mind."

"I know you won't, butI need this."

"I-I know it may not mean much to you right now, but, I truly am sorry."

"I know you are."

"Am I forgiven?"

"For lying?"
"Yes."

"No. I don't think you'll ever be forgiven for that. But I'm willing to look past it."
"So you'lltake back the ring I bought?"

"Of course."
"I have ityou know."

"Oh?"
"Here."

"It's as beautiful as I remember."

"Are you crying?"

"I justI'm happy, Quinn, don't worry."

"So."

"Yeah."
"I can't change your mind?"

"No."
"OkayI mean, I'm not okay with it, buty'know, just putting that out there."

"I know."
"I love you, you know."

"I love you tooQuinn, are you crying?"

"I just don't want to lose you."

"You won't. Either way, I'll still be with you, always."

"Ready?"

"Yeah, r-ready."

Heaving sobs wreck her entire body. Enveloped in darkness, she cradles herself in shame in the corner of her bedroom.
Hazel eyes gleam with a wet shine, tears stream down her cheeks, mouth gaped as she grasps for air.
All semblance of control that she had in her life disappeared with that final moment - staring into the eyes of her mate, her
girlfriend, her fiance, and whispering that everything would be okay. The woman that had put so much faith and trust on
her had just smiled, touched her cheek softly and whispered such simple but emotional words.

The bite hadn't taken long, only a few seconds at most. She stopped sinking her teeth in when she passed the barrier of
muscle, holding herself back from biting down further. She squeezed her eyes shut to try and block out the painful
whimpering and groans from her mate and controlled herself with long pulls of air.
She counted a beat, then another, and then another before finally pulling away. Teeth, gleaming with blood shone under
the brightness of the bedside lamp. Tan skin, gleaming with post coital sweat and tiny droplets of blood, shivers slightly as
Quinn pulls away.

Q had left; left her to the bidding that Rachel had demanded of them both. She knew all too well that the reason her wolf
had left so hastily, and almost thrown her back into her own body, was because she didn't want to see the outcome. She
didn't want to see her mate writhe in pain, or even see the beautiful tan of her skin marred with frightening red.
She had descended into the recesses of Quinn's mind and locked herself up tight.

Rachel had taken one long deep breath, held it for a second, and then released it. Her fists lay clutched at her sides, nails
gripping into the strewn bed sheets for comfort and control. The stinging that shot across her collarbone was almost too
much to bare, but she stuck it out; controlled breaths, eyes switching from the rotating fan above the bed, then to gleaming
hazel.
She hadn't been surprised when Q had abruptly left, after all, while it was something the wolf wanted, she didn't particularly
want to go through with it. The moral turmoil had been enough to have the Alpha backing away, admitting defeat, and
disappearing once more into its human embodiment.
Quinn had said nothing, unwilling to find the words. She did the only thing she could do; she sat at the side of the bed,
hand resting over a shaking forearm. The force of Rachel's grip was evident; muscles tense to the point that they could
almost snap, knuckles a ghastly white against the light blue of the sheets. Quinn could sense the pain; the pain that Rachel
was trying to cover. She could sense it, smell it, almost taste it and it brought tears to her eyes.
So she looked away, almost ashamed to look at what she had done. Back to her mate, she shut her eyes tight and
listened to the soothing breathing from behind her. Seconds ticked away endlessly, heart beating painfully to each
passing tick of the alarm clock.

Nothing seemed to happen, so she glanced over her shoulder to take a look at Rachel. Fresh sweat marred her forehead,
but nothing more seemed to be out of the ordinary. She questioned herself silently; had she even done it right? She
contemplated reaching for her phone, to call Cybil or Alfred about what she had just done, but Rachel's hand clasped
around hers, tightening, so painfully strong and Quinn gripped straight back.

Something had happened and she was powerless to stop it. Rachel's eyebrows furrowed, fighting off the sharp hot pain
that shoots through her entire body. It engulfed her, head to toe, so much so that she felt consumed by it. It took over every
molecule of her body, controlling her, holding it in its merciless grip.
Her jaw dropped open, throat working to let out the scream that had gathered, but nothing is released. The pain winds her,
and she gasped for breath, chest heaving, body quaking as fresh bouts of red hot pain hit her body. Each bout felt like a
solid punch to the gut, a knife slashing into her skin, vinegar poured into a fresh wound. It ranges from different levels and
she doesn't know which one she hates more.
Her arms shook from the force of holding onto the sheet and Quinn; she felt her girlfriend beside her, hear her staccato
breathing and she knew that her girlfriend was panicking. The pain shouldn't be this bad.
She tried to talk, tried to do anything to converse with her girlfriend about how she was feeling, but nothing would come; no
words seemed to describe the pain. So she stared right into hazel eyes and felt the fear laced within them.
Her breathing slowed, she felt it inside her chest, her lungs constricting; it wasn't right, she didn't have to be a doctor to
realize that. Her heart felt as if it were stuck in a vice grip, clutched tightly in the fist of an oncoming death that she knew
she was going to face.

Tears rolled down her cheeks, she had felt that, she had heard the heartbreaking sobs of her girlfriend; quiet and broken.
Quinn had tightened her fist, clutching a limp hand and Rachel had watched on, completely helpless.

She somehow felt the slowing of her heart, the flowing of her blood that poured through the bite mark, the movement of her
chest as she took in each and every painful gasp of air. She clung, holding on, fighting the darkness that swam across her
vision. She felt tired, exhausted, and all she wanted to do was sleep.
But she heard Quinn's voice, soft and warm against her forehead. Hot tears dropped across her forehead and a soft
bittersweet smile melted across her lips. She took all the strength she had left, gathered it all and with one last push, she
squeezed that hand within her loose grip.

Quinn sniffles, pleading to God, pleading to anyone that would listen to have Rachel hold on, but no seemed to listen. She
dots a kiss to a wet forehead, the hot burn of skin against her lips had her choking out a sob and she pulled away.
Hazel eyes dashed across a relaxed face; no more pain, just a soft, almost soothing expression. She stares, chin
trembling as she calls out, "Rachel?"

But there's no reply.

And so she sits in the corner of her bedroom, cradling herself in a tiny little ball, trying to will herself away from existence.
Soft carpet, wet with tears, digs into her cheek. She buries herself within it, hiding herself away, ashamed of herself.
The bedside lamp had been turned off long ago, unable to look at the vision that it showed with such a bright intensity. So
she lays in the dark, squeezes her eyes shut, crying out, sobbing, begging to God, and remembering the last words
Rachel had spoken.

"Thank you."
*Chapter 23*: The Howling
I hear them getting closer,
Their howls are sending chills down my spine.
And time is running out now,
They're coming down the hills from behind.
The harsh shrill of her ringtone brings her forth from the clouds of unconsciousness. She had slipped into a fitful rest once
more, the harsh sobs and heaving pressure of distraught had exhausted her. Now it was night time again; a full 24 hours
since that fateful decision. Vision blurry, body numb, mind barely focused, she glances at the phone that lays dejected only
a few inches from her.

She doesn't move to answer it, but she wishes to, if only to end the obnoxious ringing. It does end, however, when the
caller disconnects and instead leaves a voicemail with a gentle beep.

The phone's screen, still illuminated, shows the same screen as it had since the night before. Three digits, called daily for
much needed help, sit helpless, uncalled. Her thumb had hovered and shook over the dial button as she willed herself to
call, but the age old problem still remained; she was terrified. How would she explain this to the paramedics that would
ultimately storm through the apartment and drop at Rachel's side? Would the police look at her with that disapproving look
in their eyes as they questioned her and ultimately took her down town?
Ashamed, afraid and heart broken, she dropped the phone back to the floor and whenever she found the strength and will
to try and call again, the same panic would overwhelm her and the phone would be dropped once more.
That ringtone, a shrill of a ringtone that should never have been fucking invented, rockets through the stale air of the
bedroom and shatters the quiet. Quinn, curled up in the fetal position, turned away from the bed that cradled the body of
the woman she so adored, stared at the phone, willing it away from existence.

But the phone continues to ring, monotonous and obnoxious, until eventually, mercifully, it quietens once more. In the haze
of exhaustion, eyes slipping shut, she hears the soft beep of yet another voicemail being left.

"Still no answer?" Jesse asks, pacing the floor of his living room, scratching the stubble at his chin. When Max replies with
a simple shake of his head, Jesse heaves out a sigh and collapses onto the couch, head tipping back to rest softly. "What
the hell is she doing?"
"Maybe something's wrong" Max thumbs the screen of his phone, "She always answers her phone"

"She's probably still making up with Rachel," Jesse heaves himself forward, suddenly exhausted, "Which I don't mind, but I
know my father is planning something. We can't wait any longer and I can't hold the fort while she's off screwing my ex."

"Jesse, dude, that was a long time ago."

He shrugs, "Yeah I know, I'm just lashing out." Then he rubs at his temples, messaging them in slow circular motions, "The
pressure is un-fucking-believable."
"Do you think Scott will be able to distract your dad long enough?"

"He's my father's Beta, regardless of what Scott says, my father has to listen in some capacity. He'll keep talking until I tell
him to come back."

Max nods, pocketing his phone, somehow knowing that Quinn won't be calling anytime soon. He takes a seat, wishing to
get comfortable, but the tension that surges through his body won't allow it. "Couldn't wey'knowgo ahead without her?
She could join in later."

"Later will be too late." Jesse tilts his head to the side to look at Max, who suddenly looks so childlike, eyes wide, terrified
all of a sudden, "She's the Alpha, she needs to lead us. Without her, we would walk to our deaths."
"She's only one wolf though."
"An Alpha at that," His eyes narrow in on Max, "Do you actually know how strong an Alpha is?" He doesn't even bother to
wait for an answer, "An Alpha can destroy at least a pack of wolves without breaking a sweat. A werewolf Alpha, however,
could easily annihilate three wolf packs without even trying. Quinn could floors us in seconds; she's our driving force and
our leader. We need her."
Max heaves a sigh, "I guess" He drags the palm of his hand over the phone in his pocket, "Should I call again?"

"We'll give her half an hour. If she doesn't call back, I'll go there and pick her naked ass off of Rachel myself."
Her eyes sting almost as if hot coals have taken place inside her skull, her body aches from being curled up for so long,
her stomach grumbles and growls for sustenance and her mouth, dry as sand, aches for water.

She knows she has to move, she knows she has to feed her body. Q hasn't complained for the lack of food and although
Quinn can't see her clearly in her mind's eye, she can almost sense what her wolf looks like. Crippled on its side,
whimpering, whining, howling for its mate.
The thought sickens her.

Her phone hasn't beeped in a while, thankfully; she just wants to sit in silence for just a little while longer. But her body is
weak, working on mere fumes, she needs something to keep herself going.

She knows exactly what Rachel would say if she didn't take care of herself in her absence.

"Quinn, if I'm not here to cook for you, you still need to eat. And please, don't hire a private chef again to cook you
dinner, I saw the check you wrote out to the poor man."
But Rachel didn't exactly complain when Quinn heaved out Tupperware filled with professionally made Vegan delicacies
that even Rachel couldn't help but drool over. She just didn't mention that while Rachel ate an incredibly healthy meal, she
had already inhaled three medium rare steaks and enough fries to feed a third world country.

So Rachel indulged her, because she knew that Quinn had to keep her strength up. She indulged herself simply wild
girlfriend, because she knew that it would make Quinn happy.

It takes her a while to gather the strength to move; when she tries to even move her head, a wave of dizziness overcomes
her and she has to lay still for a few minutes until the nausea dies down. She doesn't even try to get up after that.

"Quinn, if I'm not here to cook for you, you still need to eat."

She squeezes her eyes shut, as tight as they can go, trying to block out her girlfriend's melodious voice. So light, soft and
gentle was her voice, so airy and care free. She truly was a wonder.
Tears threaten to fall, but she has to take care of herself, just as Rachel wished. She would always take care of herself,
even in Rachel's absence, even if she didn't particularly want to. She wanted to disappear into a deep abyss and wallow
away until her family and friends forgot about her.

Her stomach clenches, silently begging for food, and she barely has the energy to move, but she does it nonetheless.
Slow, almost docile, she climbs to her feet, clutching at the bedside table and the wall to keep her steady. Her legs barely
have enough strength to keep her standing, but her rapidly weakening arms seem to do the job.
She purposely avoids looking at the bed, although enshrined in darkness. Although her vision was blurry, even making out
the outline of her girlfriend's still body would be enough to bring her to breaking point. She would shatter so utterly and
completely.

The door frame keeps her steady, and she heaves for breath against the wood; walking a few steps has simply exhausted
her. If she was human, a day of not eating would tire her, of course, but for a werewolf, an Alpha at that, eating for a day
would spell disaster. She uses twice, almost triple the calories any normal human or wolf did; she was at the end of a short
road and she needed to turn back.

So she makes her way into the kitchen, eyes unfocused, not really looking at anything as she stumbles. The kitchenette
counter holds her up for a few minutes while she re-catches her breath and forces herself to move again. She grabs an
apple and eats a quarter of it before her stomach clenches in disagreement.
She tries to force herself to eat more, but she has only just sunk her teeth into another bite when bile rises from her throat.
So she simply throws it into the sink to crisp and brown. A glass of water is next, she half wishes there was something
stronger; tequila would knock her out for a few hours.

But she settles on water and drinks about half a glass before that same wave of nausea comes back to haunt her. She
settles the glass down beside the sink and leaves it, stumbling back out of the kitchen to return to her place of hiding.

Her body, however, has other ideas. Her stomach ceases, and she barely stops herself from throwing up when she
collapses to the ground. Her stomach, twisting and turning, sends her into fits of pain and she grits her teeth to stop from
shouting out.
The pain she's going through is nothing compared to what Rachel did. What gives her the right to show her pain?

So instead, as the pain begins to cease, she crawls toward the bedroom door, hands and knees, simply dragging herself
towards her tiny sanctuary. But her energy and her body gives out before she can make it through the door. Heaving for
air, clenching her eyes shut to stop the onslaught of pained tears, she puts her back to the wall and leans back.
It's all she can do now.
Q has given up, and by default, her body.
She can't stop it now.

"Scott's on his way back to your place."

Jesse huffs as he dashes up the next floor of Rachel's apartment; why she and Quinn chose to live on the fifth floor was
beyond him. "Great." He takes two steps at a time, eager to make it to the right floor, "Has he said anything else?"

"You know what he's like. He's pretty unvocal about everything."

"Yeah" He actually pumps his fist when he makes it to the fifth floor and plants his flat palm over the giant five that paints
the wall, "Okay, well, I'll grab Quinn and we'll be back soon."

"Okay, I'll hold the fort."

"Thanks Max." He shoves his phone in his jacket pocket and swipes at his forehead as he walks down the hall. He
knocks, just for courtesy, before trying the door. It's locked and he growls, shifting the door handle a little more vigorously.
"Excuse me!" The door is ripped open and he steps back, eyes wide, "What the hell do you think you're doing?" An irate
woman, holding a crying baby on her hip, stares back at him, face bright red, a pacifier clutched in her free hand.
"S-Sorry, I thought this was my friends place."

It doesn't seem to calm the woman at all.

"Uh" He glances around, because that woman's eyes could set any man to stone, "Do you know where Rachel Berry
lives by any chance?" He mentally curses that he can't remember the door number. He'd been here before, for Christ
sake.

The woman's eyes narrow at that, and worry settles at the pit of his stomach. "That loud girl? The one who was up all last
night screaming? I'm aware how sex works, believe me, I know," She looks down to her child before looking back at him,
"But that was obnoxiously disgusting. She almost frightened my child to death."
The worry begins to fester away and he chomps down on his back teeth as he asks, "Has there been anymore
screamingrecently?"
She shrugs her shoulders, "Not that I've heard. It's been dead quiet." She peers out from her apartment and nods down
the hall, "Last one on the left is the apartment your looking for." And she backs away, ready to shut the door, "And don't
knock again, I'm trying to get my boy down for a nap."

And it's slammed shut.

But he barely hears her warning, eye wide, eyes shining, "Oh God, no." And he dashes down the hall like a bat out of hell.
He doesn't bother to knock, doesn't bother to wait, he doesn't even use the door handle.
He boots the door open and dashes in, coming to an immediate stop when a smell of stale air assaults him. The
pheromones, alone, are enough to make him dizzy. He can smell the sex, but the smell is disappearing, barely even
recognizable. It would have had to have been at least twenty-four hours ago.

In the darkness, his eyes focus, and the first thing he sees is blonde hair, frazzled and messy over pale skin. "Quinn," He
crosses the room and collapses to his knees, cupping her by the neck and lifting her head up. Her eyes are barely open
and he senses the worst, "Quinn." He shakes her and her eyes flutter open.
Her voice, barely recognizable, croaks from her dry throat, "Jesse"

"What the hell happened?" He looks over her, eyes scanning every inch of her body. She doesn't seem to be injured, but
he can sense of weak she is; she's barely hanging on. Had her father sent someone to attack her? Nohe or Scott would
have heard something. "Are you okay?"
And tears shine bright in dull eyes, "R-Rachel."

He feels bile rise from his throat; was Rachel hurt? "What about her?"
Quinn's chest works, heaving, gasping for air as she sobs again; the tears seem endless. "I k-k-killed h-her."

Jesse's eyes widen, chin shaking as he soaks in her words. His hands automatically clench around the weakened Alpha's
neck, thumbs digging into her throat. He knows he's gripping hard, but she doesn't even clench, somehow, she welcomes
it.
"What are you talking about?" He asks, quietly, dangerously, "What the hell did you do?"
Quinn squeezes her eyes shut; focusing her eyes seems to make her want to vomit. The memories of the night before
assault her once more, just as they had all through her waking moments and in her dreams. She remembers the screams,
the look of pained agony on her girlfriend's beautiful face. She her life slipping away. She remembers her last words.

"Thank you."

"WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?" He shakes her, harder than before, and her head simply tips back and forth. He
somehow wishes her neck would snap from the movement.

"She wanted" She licks her lips, dropping her chin to her chest, "She wanted to c-change."
He growls, fighting back the tears that well up in his eyes, "Where is she?"

And all Quinn can do, is tilt her head to the side, open her eyes, and look into the bedroom. Vacant eyes stare as Jesse
rises to his feet slowly, holding himself up at the door frame as he looks into the bedroom.

She can't see his expression, or his eyes, but she can smell the fear that he exudes. That fear slowly turns to anguish as
he disappears into the room.

"Jesse, I'm at your apartment. Do you have Quinn?"

"You need to come here. Now."

"Why?"

"Justdo it."

She can smell Scott before he even walks through the door. His muscular build barely fits through the door as he makes
his way in. He glances down at her, getting ready to crouch down to see if she's okay, when Jesse's voice, soft and shaky,
drifts out from the bedroom.
Scott's head snaps toward the bedroom and he disappears inside without a word. She can barely hear their soft tones, so
instead she shuts her eyes, delves into her mind to meet with the only one that shares her burden.
"Q" Her voice, a mere whisper, calls out to her wolf.

"Q, please"
But no reply comes, only an empty void where her wolf used to live assaults her. She heaves a long breath, wondering is
she can make the trek back to the kitchen to finish that glass of water. But she can barely move her legs; with Q giving up,
her body has too, and with it, her only hope.
"Quinn."
Scott appears, crouched down beside her, looking at her intensely, "Can you tell me what happened?"

She doesn't have the strength to be sarcastic; it's pretty much obvious what had happened. She had told Jesse and she
doesn't feel like repeating herself. She just shakes her head, slowly back and forth, then forces a shrug out of herself.

"Quinn"
"What?" She croaks, throat ceasing up. Her strength is disappearing, shot all to hell; she has nothing left to give, nothing
left to fight for. After all, a wolf mates and loves for life.
"She's still alive."

Q appears once more, whole body tense as she looks on through Quinn's eyes. Quinn, body suddenly engulfed with
strength she never knew existed, stands by Rachel's bedside, watches as Jesse runs his fingers through Rachel's hair.

"How?" She asks softly, voice still weak.

"We don't know, but I checked her out. Her chest was barely moving so I checked her pulse. It's weak, but it's there. It
seems that, while the change did effect her, it didn't work."

Her head lazily looks up to Scott, her Beta, who is stood beside her, "Didn't work?"
He looks right back at her, "No, it seems her body could take the strain, but it didn't quite" He searches for the word,
"Gel with her."

"Has this" Her eyes search the stoic body before her; Rachel is alive. "Has this happened before?"
"Rarely. It either results in success or death. But it has been known that some bodies can take the strain of the change, but
can't manifest it."

"Soshe's still human?"

Scott nods, "As the day she was born."

Jesse, silent as ever, fingers still brush through tangled locks, doesn't look away from Rachel. Scott watches him; he can
sense the anger that boils within him and attempts to diffuse it before anyone gets hurt.

"As of right now, she's sleeping it off."

"So she'll wake up?" Quinn asks, quietly, as she drops to her knees at Rachel's bedside, trapping a soft hand within her
own.
"Yes, but I wouldn't be able to tell you when." He shrugs his shoulders, "The last recorded detail of this happening was
over thirty years ago and before that, another fifty."
"How long did it take them to wake up?" Jesse asks, voice suddenly filling the room.

"The woman from thirty years ago, four weeks. The man from fifty years ago" He pauses and crosses his arms over his
chest, trying as hard as he can to distance himself from the pain he's bound to inflict. "Two years." The silence is enough
to almost deafen him, "It's random. I can'ttruly pinpoint a time."
Jesse snarls, "You're a doctor. Can't you do something?"

Oh, how many times he had heard such a statement. Two years ago, his little sister had come down with pneumonia and it
had almost killed her. His father had pleaded with him, begged him, and when nothing worked, he raged, "What's the
point in having a doctor for a son when you can't do anything?"

His reply was always the same, "I'm a doctor for humans." And while this may be the case, he can't help but shake his
head, "She may be human, but what has happened to her is more than my medical training has ever delved into. You'll
have to wait until she wakes up."

"You're joking," Jesse sneers, "You're joking, right?"

"Jesse, calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down!" He shoots up from the floor and circles the bed, standing face towellchest with Scott,
"Do something!"

And Scott, calm as ever, replies, "I can't do anything."

"To hell with you!" And then he turns, staring down at the blonde that sits beside Rachel's bed, honest to God, smiling.
"What the hell are you smiling for? You did this to her!"

Quinn shakes her head, "I did, I won't deny it." She drops a kiss to Rachel's hand, "But she's alive, Jesse. I've been given
another chance with her and this time, I won't screw it up. I'll protect her to the very end, I swear."
"Fat load of protecting you did before you sank your dirty teeth into her."

A heavy hand clasps on his shoulder and his eyes widen when he stares up into shining gold tinted eyes, "That's your
Alpha you're talking to. Show some respect."

"Are you being serious?" Jesse asks, suddenly exhausted, "I- She almost killed Rachel and you're telling me to show
respect?"

Scott's eyes slowly dim away, returning to their usual shade, "She did as her mate requested and went through with it,
knowing that it could very well mean the end for her. She has strength and courage that I could only ever hope to acquire."

Jesse sighs and dips his chin to his chest, "I swear to God" He warns softly, "When she wakes up, if you don't protect
her, I'll end your life myself."

He can hear the growl beside him, he can hear Scott reading himself to protect his Alpha's honor, but Scott stops when
Quinn replies,

"If I can't protect her again, I'll hand it to you myself, I promise you that."
And Jesse can only nod, shell-shocked.

Max arrives twenty minutes later after a quick call from Scott, who then fills in the confused man as he walks through the
door. He's shocked to say the least, and he can think of nothing to say, so he hands the goods over to Scott, walks to the
bedroom and watches from the doorway as Quinn softly kisses Rachel's hand that she holds in her grasp.
"She's okay then?"

Quinn smiles, softly, "She's okay. She's justresting." Then she nods, almost to herself, "Take as long as you need baby.
I'll be here, waiting for you when you wake up."

Max frowns and glances over his shoulder. Jesse is stood by the living room window, looking down at the street below,
watching as snow begins to drift down, illuminated by the street lights. Scott is stood by the kitchenette counter, fixing a
plate of food and a glass of protein shake that Scott told him to bring.
Why is no one happy? Rachel survived a change, sure, an unsuccessful one, but she was alive. But Jesse looked
distraught and Scott, as always, looked indifferent. Max makes it out of the way just in time for the Beta to pass him, food
and drink in hand.

"Eat. You need your strength. Eat slowly, don't rush it." He hands her the drink, which she doesn't take immediately, "It's
high in calories and the nutrients that you need. It's potent so you'll have to sip at it."

He nudges the cold glass to her cheek and it seems to wake her from her lapse from reality. She glances at the glass, up
at Scott, then back at the glass again, before taking it with her free hand. The sandwich, loaded with meats and salad, sit
beside her on a small plate.
"Thanks"

Scott just nods, but it's his equivalent of a smile.

"She doesn't know, does she?" Max hisses at Jesse, who stills stands at the window. Scott is checking on Quinn, making
sure that she's eating and drinking.
Jesse just shakes his head, "What use is she if she's weak? We're going to have to postpone."

Max frowns, "The whole point of this is that we can't postpone. Your dad is onto us and we need to attack before he
does." He watches, confusion swimming in his eyes, as Jesse rubs at his eyes. The man looks simply exhausted, "We
need to do this now or your dad is gonna fuck us all over royally and I don't fancy becoming his bitch."
Jesse growls and turns to the infuriated young man, "Don't you think I know that?" Then he glances toward the bedroom,
listening in on the quiet conversation between Quinn and Scott. Apparently she's finished the shake, but only eaten half of
the sandwich. Better than nothing, he supposes. "Look, she won't leave Rachel's side until she wakes up. Either way,
we're fucked."
"Maybe" Max trails off and drifts his hand through his hair, "Justhold on" And Jesse watches him as he disappears
into the bedroom. There's a soft converse between him and Scott, before the Beta leaves the room and shuts the door
behind him.

"What the hell is he doing?"

"Reaching out." Scott replies, rather cryptically, taking the empty glass and plate into the kitchen. He makes sure to clean
up after himself, but not decode his cryptic reply, which pisses Jesse off to no end.

"Hey," He whispers, almost afraid to break the soft silence that envelopes the two girls. Quinn hasn't moved an inch, and
her left hand is still clenched around Rachel's. It brings a smile to Max's face; Quinn is so utterly devoted to her girlfriend.
He only wishes, that once he marks Sophia, if she so wishes, that he'll have that devotion too. "So uhI told Sophia about
me."
He shifts nervously when Quinn's eyebrow flicks up, "Yeah, she was shocked as hell. She totally fainted, luckily I caught
her, 'cos she was this close to smacking her head on her desk." He chuckles, "But uh, yeah, it took a while, but she gets it.
I told her that you're a wolf too and that Rachel's your mate. She called Rachel a bitch for not mentioning it sooner." Then
he pauses and adds, rather quickly, "Jokingly of course."
Quinn chuckles softly in return, "She's fine with it?" Her eyes skim across Rachel's face, watching every shift of skin. They
dip down to watch the small, almost invisible rise and fall of Rachel's chest. She's fine. She's alive.
"Yeah, totally. I mean, she's got a long way to go until she understands it all butI was wondering if I could ask your
opinion?"

There's a long pause and then, "Shoot."

Max heaves in a breath, "When should I mark her?"

Quinn's eyes leave Rachel at that, and rise to meet Max's anxious ones. He seems so childlike; he's so new to urging and
finally being with someone that he can be with for the rest of his life. He doesn't understand the gentle compliments that
come with marking someone, nor does he understand when you should truly mark someone you love. He has so much to
learn and Quinn hopes to teach him.
"Whenever it feels right, Max. You'll know when the time is right."

"When did you" He pauses, then clears his throat, and drops down to his knees on the opposite side of the bed,
glancing down at Rachel, "When did you mark Rachel?"

Quinn smiles softly, "Our first time together."

"Romantic," He chuckles in return, "I might do the same."

"Like I said, mark her when it feels right."

And Max nods, "I will."

Quinn's eyes drift back down to her sleeping girlfriend. Her thumb trails over soft skin and feels the soft pulse that pounds
away at her wrist. She needs to be reminded that Rachel is alive, and soft reminders, like feeling a beat at her wrist, was
enough to sate her. "Was that all?"
"I uhm," Max sighs, "We need you. William has caught on and we need to attack before he does." An uncomfortable
feeling hits him deep in the stomach when Quinn shakes her head softly, "If you come with us, we'll go hunt and get your
strength up."

"I won't leave her."

"She won't be alone."

Quinn's eyes cut to him, "And who do you suggest, will take care of her?"

"I don't understand why I'm here."

"Babe, I'll explain everything in full, excruciating detail later, okay. Justyou need stay in here and sit with Rachel, okay?
You can't leave her side, not even to pee."

"Are you being serious?"

"Well, you can pee, and eat and drink, butyou need to be by her side, okay?"

Sophia sighs and looks down at Rachel. It's a shock, to see her best friend in such a state. Rachel was usually a ball of
energy, coming into rehearsals like a child with ADD, always with a smile on her face and ready to take on the world. And
although she knew Rachel was sleeping, it almost seemed as if she was-
"Please do this for me, Sophia."

Her boyfriend's pleading brings her back from her train of thought and she back to him. He has his puppy dog eyes on, a
regular feature whenever she denies him something. At first, it was pretty pathetic, she wanted a strong man by her side,
but since finding out about the fact he's actually a werewolf, it's quite endearing, sweet, and it makes her want to melt.
"I'll do it, okay? She's my best friend."

Max's grin is big enough to split his cheeks, "Thank you!" And he plants one right on her lips before dashing out of the
bedroom and exclaiming, "Okay, we're good to go! Sophia will stay here with Rach, and we'll go out hunting super quick
to get Quinn's strength up."
Sophia barely hears what the other two men have to say as she settles herself on the floor beside Rachel's bedside. It's
uncomfortable to say the least, because the girl she had met in Starbucks only a few weeks ago was now sat silently
opposite her. She hadn't even looked up. Did she even know that she was there?

"You can go now, Quinn. I'll take it from here."

Quinn's eyes tear away, then lighten when they land on Sophia, "Thank youfor doing this."

And she smiles, "It's the least I can do. She's my best friend andMax seemed pretty adamant about it."
The blonde nods and rises up on her knees to dot a soft kiss to Rachel's forehead. She takes the time to sweep away her
bangs before doing so, then arranging them so they lay back softly against her skin.
"You know what we're about to do, right?"

Sophia nods, "Max filled me in."

Then Quinn rises to her feet, "Don't leave her side, please?"
"I won't."
Quinn turns, walking toward the bedroom door, hand on the door frame as she stops at the sound of her name, "Quinn?"

The actress looks up from Rachel's bedside and swallows nervously as Quinn glances over her shoulder. "Please bring
him back safe."

And Quinn replies softly, "I'll try." Takes one last look at Rachel, and leaves to fight a war that has been two years in the
making.

She's just about to shuck off her jeans when her phone begins to ring. The ringtone doesn't seem to be as annoying
anymore, now that a heavy cloud of heartbreak hovers over her. She pulls out of her phone, glances at the screen, and
frowns when she doesn't know the number.
"Sophia?" She asks, almost automatically, because what if something happened to Rachel while she was gone? It had
only been forty-five minutes, but a lot can happen in that time, right?

"Who the fuck is Sophia? Your new girl?"

Quinn balks, she knows that voice all too well.

"Why are you calling me?"

"This is the welcome I get when I call you after three years?"

"It's an apt welcome for someone that deemed it important to end my relationship and then never spoke to me at
graduation."

"You knew I was dealing with shit, Q. I had other things on my mind."

"Look, I know how much you loved Britt, okay? Believe me, I was incredibly aware. But didn't a part of you find it, I don't
know, important, to say goodbye to me?"

"You didn't see me as a friend, I didn't see the point in saying goodbye."

"And whose fault is that, Santana?"

"Look, I was an ass, and trust me, this is killing me to admit. Santana Lopez apologizes to no one. But. I ah, guess
I'm sorry for all that shit I said and did."
"Yeah, whatever."

"Quinn, for fuck sake. I'm calling you because I miss you, okay? You're my best friend, I still count you as my best
friend. I was a total mega bitch back in school, but I've matured, okay? Things have been put in prospective for me and
I guess it worked out for the best. I know now that I should have put my best friends first instead of my own selfish
problems."
"What do you want, Santana?"

"A chance."

"After three years?"

"What can I say? Better late than never."

"Santana, I have my own shit to deal with my right now. I can'treally focus on this."

"What? Berry still nagging you to death? Wait, you are still with her right?"

"Yeah, I am, and we're still goingstrong"

"Hm, well, I won't say I'm not shocked. I thought you'd have murdered her and buried her under a damn Broadway
stage after a few months in New York, but whatevs, I'll be in the city next week, fancy meeting up?"
"You don't mince your words."

"Just answer the damn question, Fabgay."

"Like I said, Santana, I have stuff to deal with and Rachel is a little under the weather."

"So she has the sniffles, so what? I'll put myself up somewhere, 'cos trust me, it's gonna kill me being in the same city
where you both have sex."
"Santana"

"But I'll endure it, 'cos I'm nice like that. So, I can crash next week?"

"Rachel is ill."

"So she has the sniffles? So what? I'll bring some industrial size Kleenex for that nose of hers and-,"

"Shut the fuck up."

"Fabray, did you just fucking growl at me?"

"Insult Rachel one more time, I swear to God, I'll-,"

"Whoa, chill the fuck out, alright blondie? I was just messing around. My God, you really have forgotten how to let my
insults slide off your hump of a back. Look, I'll drop round and see you when I'm in the city, we'll go for a few drinks, we'll
talk, make up, make out and then I'll go home with some deliciously hot babe from the bar and we'll be as good as new.
What'dya say?"
"What about Brittany?"

"Well, that's for the whole 'talk' thing for when I get there. So, am I allowed to enter New York, your majesty?"

"Santana, this is your last chance, okay? I won't lie and say I haven't missed you, because I have. But I swear, if you
make fun of my relationship, or Rachel, or my friends, I'll kick you right up the backside and into the sunset. Understand?"

"When did you get so commanding? It's kinda hot, Fabray. If you weren't with Berry, I think I'd have to give you a ride
myself."
"Gross."

"You've missed me. Now, text me your address, bitch."

"I don't know if next week is good, Santana. Rachel is ill."

"Fine, I'll bring Kleenex and a hot water bottle."

"S"

"So you cancel everything just 'cos your girlfriend is ill? C'mon Fabray, my immune system is fucking impeccable. Do
you know how many mono outbreaks I shrugged off like a bad smell? A hell of a fuckin' lot. So do me a favor, shut up
whining and text me your address."
""

"Look, Quinn, I've missed you, okay? You've been there for me when a lot of people weren't and you always stood by
me, we stood by each other. Fuck sake, I promised not to get sappy. Just text me your address you gigantic bitch."
"Hehokay Santana, you win."

"Of course I fucking do. I'm Santana Lopez. Mami didn't raise no losers."

"Just kids incapable of speaking properly."

"Shut up, you English nerd."

"Whore."

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, I've missed you, Fabray."

"Missed you too Santana, but you've got a lot of grovelling to do when you get here."

"Well, I wouldif I knew your fuckin' address!"

The early morning hunt only lasts a few hours. Jesse knows that they're pushing it when they pass one in the afternoon and
he lets Quinn know every time they pass. The whole group is pent up, energized, ready to fight the battle and rid
themselves of the oppressor they have grown to hate.

William St. James was a hyena in wolf's fur; he ruled through pain and terror and only showed dedication to the ones that
put their lives on the line for him. He terrorized wolves that wished to distance themselves from Brooklyn, or simply wished
to live of their own accord. People grew sick of him quickly, but the fear he and his minions had bestowed upon the
werewolf population, had them cowering away, instead of standing tall and demanding he leave.
Now it had come down to Quinn Fabray and her unlikely pack; a pack that over the past two years had become her
second family. Scott, her Beta, was true to his word and stood at her side although she had yet to become his Alpha
officially. He was a great guy and wolf to have in a tight spot and his limitless logic in battle tactics and history of werewolf
clans was an immense help to Quinn and Jesse as they planned the attack against William.
Jesse, an unlikely candidate as a friend, was someone that Quinn knew she could depend on. At first she thought the duo
act would be a recipe for disaster, but Jesse had proved to her time and time again that he was no longer that snotty brat
from high school. He had matured, grown and shown his true worth when it came to being a werewolf; he was strong,
courageous and stood by his pack no matter how difficult things became. He worked well with others, although he
demanded a certain respect within the group. No one challenged him, not because he was the son of William, but
because he treated everyone fairly and guided them well. He deserved the respect and Quinn allowed it.
For the most part.

Jesse continued to remind her that she was the Alpha, that she was the one that needed to end William's tight fisted reign
over Brooklyn; Jesse refused to see it any other way. Both she and Scott continued to ask him if he was okay with
effectively evicting his father, or if worse came to worse, killing him, and he would have no answer to give. He would
wander away, lost in his own thoughts, plagued by the idea of what he had to do. His father was a man that gave him life,
how could he do this to him?
Scott constantly reminded him that it was for the good of the pack, and Jesse had to agree; he had seen his father's
vicious attacks upon werewolves, he had heard the horror stories of attacks and murders while he was away schooling in
Lima. He didn't want to hear those stories again. He loved his pack like they were his own family and in a way, they were.
He needed an Alpha that would command with kindness, and it was only in his favour when he smelt that scent back in
Lima, Ohio.

Quinn Fabray would be the one to take over and control the Brooklyn pact and he would serve beneath her. It was a blow
to his self-esteem, but Quinn had proved herself more than enough times to both himself and Scott. He just hadn't
anticipated Rachel Berry being in the picture.
He wouldn't lie and say he didn't hold a little flame for his ex-girlfriend; at that point in his life, she was the best thing to
happen to him. He just had to be an ass and put his damn Glee club first instead of standing by her. But he counts his
lucky stars that the fling ended faster than it began; he didn't really want to fight an Alpha for the right to have Rachel.

Rachel now belonged to an Alpha and a strong pack that would defend her, no matter the cost. Quinn would put her life on
the line, that much was certain. The Alpha had almost wasted away when she thought her mate had passed away; a shell
of a former being, a wolf no longer clinging to life.
What could he possibly offer?

Nothing. So he lets it go and smiles when he's suppose to and tells himself to move on; one day he will find the person he
urges for. Rachel is just a fascination for him, he never truly urged for her, so by his wolf standards, she was never the one
for him. So he'll grin and bear it until his mate comes along.
"Are you ready to go?" Scott asks, coming up behind her, t-shirt gripped in a strong hand at his side. His voice, a warm
rumble, has the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end as she looks out to where her pack are congregating. The
males, all with their shirts off, still continue to stretch out their muscles, chatting amongst themselves quietly, almost too
afraid to break the quiet that surrounds them all.
The women crouch down beside an SUV, staring down at a map with avid interest. One women, a raven haired mother of
three, points to different areas on the map and points to a different woman each time. Quinn knew they were going over
their 'hits'.

"It's really happening, isn't it?"

Scott says nothing, nor does he have to. Quinn feels the comfort that he radiates, almost telling her that it'll be alright. They
may be, but what if they lose people? They're bound to? How could she deal with that burden on her shoulders?
"They all have families." Quinn sighs softly, scratching at the back of her neck as she turns to face her Beta, "Who am I to
tell them to fight?"
Scott's eyes almost shine in the light, "Their Alpha. They stand by you because they know you're good for them, good for
their families that they love and protect. If it means that some of them fall in battle for a better future for their loved ones,
then so be it."

"Scott" She groans and drops her chin to her chest, "I'm still so young."
"You feel you're too young to lead them?"

She tilts her head slightly to the side to regard him, then just shrugs her shoulders, noncommittal.
"You're 21 years old. You're an adult. You have been forced to grow up pretty damn quickly, and it shows." He hesitates,
but only briefly, "I'll admit, when I first met you, I thought you wouldn't be up to the job. But after seeing you hunt and train
with the pack, I have no doubt in my mind that you can take down William."
Quinn smiles softly, heat burning her cheeks, "You didn't believe in me, huh?"

"Only for a few days, but after I saw you take down both Jesse and Max without even blinking, I knew we had something
special."

Quinn smirks and tilts her head up, head high, eyebrow raised, "What about when I floored you in four seconds?"
Scott clenches his jaw, "Hm."

She pats his shoulder and chuckles, knowing far too well that he hated it when she brought that up. He was well over triple
her size and double her age; he was in shock and his wolf almost refused to come out of hiding for three days after the
quick defeat to a girl.
They stand in silence, the wind softly bustling past them, kicking up the dirt at their feet. They watch, together, as their pack
comes together, talking amongst one another. Some glance at her from time to time, just quick shots of their eyes,
probably trying to catch if her resolve is slipping, but she stands firm.

She remembers Rachel, lying on their bed, still alive, still breathing, her heart still pounding softly and contently. The
change hadn't worked, it hadn't taken to her body, but instead of ending her life, it just washed itself away. Scott had told
her that it could happen, and so had Alfred, but she hadn't expected that someone as small as Rachel could take the
torment that a werewolf's bite could give. Rachel was stronger than she ever realized, and she used that strength to calm
herself, centre herself; she could do this.
Her eyes watch as Max walks slowly toward her, his tan chest aglow, "Ready to go?" He asks with a smile, almost as if
they're going to the bar to have a few drinks. He seems so carefree, and part of her can't understand it, but that's what
made him who he was; barely anything fazed him.

But suddenly, it hits her; she's missed something crucial, something she promised to Rachel what seemed like years ago.
She remembers the touch to her hair, those delicate fingers running through the strands, Q laying above her, poised to
kiss.
"I have something to do first."

Max just looks confused, Scott lowers his head and Jesse, who seemingly appears from nowhere, interjects, "Wait, what?
No, you can't go anywhere. We need you here."

"I'll be an hour, at the most," She says without even looking at him. She buckles the belt on her jeans and pulls on her
hoodie, "I'll meet you at Sidebar in an hour, I promise."

"Quinn, you can't do this!" But she's already moving off, starting toward the path back to the city, "Quinn! What the hell is
so important?" She hears him growl from behind her, but she keeps walking, chin dipped in the warmth of her hoodie.

"A promise I need to keep," She whispers to herself as she sets off toward the city.

It was a promise she never thought she'd be able to keep, but the thought of Rachel still rings true in her mind as she
walks down the sidewalk toward a place familiar to her thanks to her mate. She remembers what Rachel and Q had
spoke of; how after all these years she needed a haircut.

She glances into the shop window, eyes narrowed; she knows she shouldn't be here, right in the centre of Brooklyn when
their plan is about to begin, but this means something, she has to fulfil this for Rachel. It may be something so small and
superficial, but it was something that her mate asked of her, so sweetly and softly; she had to do this. Even though she
messed up the change, she wouldn't mess this up. She was going to do something right for Rachel.

As she sits in the chair, a hairdresser already perusing her hair with judgemental eyes, hands fluffing and pulling, she runs
through the plan in her mind, unwilling to waver from her goal. Meet at Sidebar, take down Rick, head to the St. James
home, have the Beta surrender, have the Alpha surrender. It sounded simple, but so much rode on it running smoothly.
The other members of the pack would take care of the St. James supporters, shaking them down and making them
surrender to Quinn's pack, or leave Brooklyn; if they chose not to do either, as the superior pack, they would strike down
the lone wolf.
Every member of the pack had a target to hit, and depending on the strength of the particular hit, an increased number of
wolves would go along and fight. Some of St. James' supporters were pretty high up on the social ladder. One wolf, often
perceived as William's Beta until it was proved otherwise, owned a rather stylish and expensive restaurant in Brooklyn.
Another, a fashion designer that often clothed the rich and famous, was an avid supporter of William's tight reign.
But of course they would; William supported and protected the rich and famous while he shunned the weaker class of
wolves that lived in his territory. He ruled unfairly, slaughtered innocent wolves when they stood up for themselves, and it
was time to put an end to it. It was time to end the cruelty.

As the hairdresser chops into her hair, she narrows her eyes, resolve set.
Even if she has to die, she will get rid of William St. James.

"I can't believe this! How can she just run off right when we need her?" Jesse kicks at the dirt with his boot, sending small
pebbled rocks and dry dust flying into the air, "Is she a fucking idiot?"

Scott's hand on his shoulder stops him on his harsh tirade, "Calm down." Then he squeezes, tightly, just enough to cause
pain, "Now."

Jesse grits his teeth, glances at Max who just has his arms crossed over his chest and sighs, "Fine." Then he shrugs free,
pulling his whole body away from the Beta. He takes a few steps away, tips his head back and just breathes in the air,
willing his body and mind to calm down. He knew he was just stressed because the plan was so close, he just had to calm
down, he could damage everything.

"If she isn't at Sidebar when we get there, I swear to God" Then he trails off when he hears two growls behind him.
Hesitantly, he turns, and finds himself pinned by two identical golden eyes. Max, almost hunched over, growls at him with
bared teeth. Scott, still stands tall, eyes narrowed, but gleaming dangerously, his lips in a soft sneer. "Oh relax, she'd floor
me anyway."

But they don't relax, they remain hunched over until they hear the breathy apology from Jesse that they had expected. Max
pulls back from his hunched position and swipes the sweat from his forehead with his forearm, "I know you're stressed
man, we all are, but we can't let the pressure get-,"
"I know."

Max glances at Scott, who says nothing, does nothing, just watches intently. "I know that you know, but you need to know
that we can't be blaming things on each-,"

"I know," He growls, narrowing his eyes at Max. "I know, alright?"

"Dude, what is your problem?"

Jesse opens his mouth to reply sarcastically when Scott turns and walks toward the pack, who have taken to sitting down
by their cars, silently, calming themselves.

"My problem is you. Don't tell me what to do, Max."

"I'm not telling you what to do," Max growls, "I'm just sayin' that we shouldn't be fighting with each other, not now. Shouting
bloody murder at Quinn won't change what she's done. She'll be at Sidebar, I guarantee it."

Jesse stares, eyes flickering different shades of gold before locking back to brown. He sighs, softly, running a hand
through his unruly hair, "I just-," Then he stops himself, turns his back to Max and crosses his arms over his chest. "It's my
plan, you know, it's just stressing me out. I'll deal with it."

But Max knows what the real problem is; he's not as stupid as people think he may be. He may not hold the authority that
Scott or Quinn does, but he's still a good wolf, he still knows the way of the world thanks to his parents. He had learned a
lot from them, and he still continues to learn, thanks to his friends. He reads people so perfectly, he knows what's wrong,
and he knows what's wrong with Jesse.

"It just hit you, didn't it?"

The way Jesse's back tenses lets him know he's on the right note. He doesn't move closer, he doesn't even let his voice
waver. "You just realized that your dad probably won't just give up and that Quinn will have to kill him."
There's no reply, just Jesse drops his head, chin to chest, and Max watches as his shoulders softly begin to shake. This
time he does move forward, slowly, hoping not to scare him, and puts his hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort the
distraught man.

"He's my dad."
Max squeezes Jesse's shoulder in reflex and lets him sob quietly, so quiet that none of the wolves can hear. Scott glances
toward them, but doesn't look at Jesse, knowing that the last thing he wants is a Beta to judge him. Max nods at him, and
then pulls his hand away, tapping Jesse on the back with the tips of his fingers.

"We have to go, dude."

Jesse sniffs, then takes one long breath and stands tall, head held high, tears still running down his cheeks. "Okay."
"Seriously? You ran off and scared me shitless to get a haircut?"
Max snorts at Jesse and nudges past him, ruffling his hand through his Alpha's choppy hair, "I like it. Suits you a lot more
than that huge mane you had."
"You ran off to get your hair cut before we went ahead with the plan. What the hell?"

Scott chuckles softly, "Let's just say it's a tactical advantage. Her hair won't get in her eyes when she's not in wolf form,
anymore."

"Are you being serious?" Jesse turns to regard Scott, then turns to Max, and then Quinn, "Seriously?"
"I made a promise. I needed to keep it."

"You couldn't have done itI don't knowafter?" Jesse asks, honestly confused.
Quinn's eyes drop, "This may have been my last chance."

The jovial aura that had surrounded the small group is suddenly sucked away and Jesse bites down on his inner cheek
when he realizes what he had just said. He may have only just realized the severity of the plan, and how his father may not
come out of it alive, but so could they.
One of them could die, all of them could die, they could lose half the pack; they could lose the humans and wolves they
have come so close to over the past two years. There is bound to be casualties, bound to be losses of life, but now it has
only just hit them all.

"Should we have said goodbye to everyone?" Max mumbles, barely glancing at the rest of the group.
Scott crosses his arms over his chest, the buttons on his shirt straining, "It would have been harder that way. We had one
last hunt together, that's all that was needed."

"We could lose people," Jesse butted in, then added, rather solemnly, "We will lose people."

Scott just shrugs softly, "Would you rather be attached and have it hurt that much more? The pain you will feel for your dad
is more than enough to last a lifetime." Then his eyes cut to Quinn, "And do you honestly feel that you could deal with the
loss of them while dealing with your near loss of Rachel?" He gets his answer when Quinn looks away, finding something
interesting on her shoe all of a sudden, "And Max, would you like to lose Sophia?"

"Hell no!" He explodes all of a sudden, eyes flashing.

"Your love may not run as deep as it does for the pack, but they have become your family over the years. Losing them
would effect you, your will to fight, your will to protect." He drops his arms, shakes his head, "Tell me now if you should
have said goodbye." And walks into the bar.

"Somehow, I feel like he should be the Alpha."

"Quinn-,"

"Seriously. He knows more than I ever could. He has the look on an Alpha, the strength of an-,"
"You floored him in four seconds."

"Well I know, but-,"

"Appearances can be deceiving, but it's what lies in a wolf's heart that determines if they shall lead or follow."

Quinn sighs, "Where did you hear that?"

"Dad told me, when I was growing up."

"You're okay with this?"

"What? The fact that he may be dead at the end of today?"
"Yeah."

"How did you feel when you thought Rachel was dead?"
""

Jesse sighs, shakily, "That's my answer." And he wanders inside, Max following suit, leaving Quinn to stare into space,
contemplating his words.
Scott is stood at the bar, hunched over, grip tight around a cold glass of water. Rick has his back turned, mixing a drink for
an early bird customer. He doesn't even glance over his shoulder when the three of them enter, and neither does Scott. He
takes quick sips of his water and then places it back down.
"I'll do the talking," Jesse mumbles, "Quinn, you be my back up, Max, scope out for any other wolves that could be a threat
to us in here."
He takes one almighty sniff as they head toward the bar, "I smell three. Two are friendly, one is on guard."

Jesse nods to himself and comes to a stand still beside Scott, "Rick."
The bartender glances over his shoulder and then smirks to himself, "Shoulda known." Then he goes back to pouring the
drink, calmly placing a straw in the glass before sliding it down the counter. He wipes off his hands and regards them. "So,
Jesse and Scott were the rats."

Scott remains stoic but Jesse's whole body clenches in anticipation to rip the smirking bartender's throat out. Quinn holds
him back, a quick tap to the wrist with her finger, "There's no rats, just people who don't want to stand by and watch
William control Brooklyn with an iron fist."
Rick's eyes roll toward Quinn, "You put them up to this, I presume? Even after Mr St. James told you to leave Brooklyn?"

Quinn shrugs, "It doesn't matter whose idea it was, just that we're here to put things right." She glances over her shoulder,
knowing that Scott is on the defence if he lunges to attack when she isn't looking, "Close the bar and tell everyone to
leave, including the wolves."
Rick sneers, "Since when do I take orders from a mutt like yo-," His face impacts the bar, he sees stars, his nose digging
hard into the wooden surface. "Get the fuck off'a me."
Scott's grip tightens at the back of his neck and with his free hand, he takes another sip of water. "Close the bar."

His voice muffled, face pressed into the bar, he tries to shake his head but to no avail, "Hell no."
The pressure behind his neck sends his vision flashing black, he knows he's about to pass out, and he knows he has no
chance at beating Scott. He was William's Beta for a reason. With a groan, he shifts his weight and pushes on the edge of
the bar with his hands, trying to push himself back up, but he barely budges.

"Close the bar."

Threatened with unconsciousness, he cries out and shouts, "Bars closed!" Scott lets go and he takes one heaving breath,
almost collapsing to the floor. His lungs burn and the ache in his neck is almost too much to bear, but he glances around
the bar, taking in the startled looks from his customers and staff. "Didn't you hear me? All of you, get out!"

The early morning crowd grumble, downing the rest of their drinks and shuffling out the door. One waitress hesitates, but
takes off none the less when Jesse glares daggers at her. In a few moments, the bar is empty and only the hollow sound of
the jukebox echoes throughout the humble establishment.
Scott pushes away from the bar, finished with his glass and stands beside Quinn, arms crossed over his chest, ready and
waiting for any sign of attack. Jesse, still stood at the bar, grins with mirth, "Soready to talk?"
Rick rubs at the back of his neck and glances at them, eyes landing on Max, who locks the front door and stands by the
windows, looking out, vigilant. "About?" And he turns his attention back to the Jesse, eager to rip the shit eating grin off of
his face.

"Where is my dad?"
Rick's eyes suddenly dim and all life from them dies away, "If I'm talking to anyone, I'll talk to her," His eyes slide to Quinn,
"Not to a helpless mutt like you."
Quinn dashes forward, grabbing Jesse just before he lunges. Her speed far surpasses his own and he has no chance to
even move an inch forward before Quinn wraps her arms around him. "Calm down," He hears softly in his ear, "We need
to be calm about this. I'll deal with him." And then her arms are gone, and she's stood before him, Scott close behind.

"Where is William?"
Rick smirks, "He's in Brooklyn."

"No shit, Sherlock." Max grumbles softly to himself, but loud enough for Quinn and the guys to hear. She'd laugh, but the
smirk on Rick's face irks her to no end. Why does nothing feel right about this place? Had they made the right decision to
walk straight into enemy territory? They had caught him off guard, but why didn't he seem surprised to realize that Jesse
and Scott were working against them from the inside?

She shook off the unnerving wonderings and narrowed her eyes, "We know he's not at his home."
"Well of course he isn't," Rick turns and swipes a bottle of Tequila and a shot glass from the shelf, "He's anticipated this
attack for a while, of course he wouldn't stay at his home." He's just finished pouring his first shock when he glances at
Jesse, "Isn't it weird that your father never told you where he was staying?"
Jesse's eyes narrow, "What are you getting at?"

But Rick just swallows his shot, barely grimacing at the taste. He pours another, content to take his time, and Quinn begins
to tap her foot in annoyance. "Tell me where he is."

"And why the hell should I do that?"

Quinn quickly glances at Scott, then back to the bartender, "If you don't want to die, you will." She tasted the words as they
left her throat and they sounded so gruesome; never had she thought she would say those words to someone. As a
human, she is appalled, but as a wolf, it's common nature. When a wolf doesn't melt into society, it is branded as an
Omega and left behind, worthless, pitiful, prone to being slaughtered by the higher ranked members of the pack. But what
is right and what is wrong when it comes to a werewolf? Would anyone use the excuse that it was a wolf issue to end the
life of someone? Would no one bat an eyelid? Would murder be somehow legal in that situation?
It made a chill shoot down her spine.

"Oh please," Rick down the second shot, "You'll kill me anyway. Isn't that the werewolf way?"
"No, it's William's way." Quinn growls, "If you're willing to tell us where he is, you can join our pack. You won't be harmed."

He seems to contemplate it as he pours his third shot, twirling the bottle with finesse as he finishes pouring. He settles the
bottle down, staring into the depths of his shot. "Oh, yeah?" Then he picks it up, pinching the glass between his forefinger
and thumb.
Quinn nods, "Tell us where he is and you can join us. You'll be happy in my pack."

"And people are happy with you being Alpha?"

She just nods.

"Hm." Scott's eyes pin him intently as he turns the shot glass between his fingers, "So I could join you? No questions
asked?"

Quinn nods and she watches out of the corner of her eye as Max's whole body stiffens, eyes narrowed, staring out of the
window. They have to move fast. No doubt William's cronies have been told of the situation.

He slowly drains the shot, his free hand moving under the bar. He pulls the shot glass away from his lips and Quinn only
sees the flash of a gun before someone shoves her to the ground. There's a loud bang, then a scuffle, a cry and then
silence. She looks up, coming face to face with the front of the bar. Jesse is crouched, on top of the bar, peering behind it.
Max glances over his shoulder, but continues to watch the window.

She climbs to her feet, brushing herself off. Scott emerges from behind the bar bare chested, jaw bone cracking into
place, blood smeared across his lips. "What the hell" Quinn gasps, almost jumping over the bar to see Rick. He lays
there, battered, ripped and broken, eyes wide, mouth agape, throat completely torn open.
A 952 handgun lay dejected beside him.

"Fuck, I never realized how fast you were," Jesse comments, jumping down from the bar, the bones in his arms cracking
back into position.

Scott says nothing, but grabs some napkins and wipes at his mouth and chest.
"So much for your shirt,"

"I don't think I'll be needed it anymore," He glances toward the back of the bar, "There's bound to be a note or a message,
even an email."

"My dad is too smart for that. It's obvious that Rick was expecting us, that means my dad was too. He won't have left any
clue behind."
Quinn's eyes narrow, "Unless he wants us to know where he is." And she wanders toward the back of the bar, pushing
open the office door.
Jesse glances over his shoulder, "Max, Scott, stay here." And he follows.

"What are you trying to find?" He asks, watching as Quinn sifts through paper after paper, glancing over them for only a
second before throwing them to the floor. "Why do you think he wants to be found?"
"Because it's a power game he's playing. We're like mice in a maze, and he wants us to find the cheese. He wants to see
how fast we can find him."

"So my dad is the cheese?"

Quinn shrugs, still glancing through papers, moving from the desk over to the filing cabinet, "Yeah."

Jesse sighs, running his hand through his hair, "Quinn, I think you underestimate my dad." He watches as she rips out
each draw, thumbing through each individual paper, "He won't just leave things hanging around. He won't just lead you to
where he is."
Quinn stops, hands clenched on a cabinet shelf, "How do you know he's not at the house?"

Jesse shrugs, "He told me he was staying with a business partner."

"Did he say where?"

Jesse rolls his eyes, "No."

"Who is his business partner?"

"I don't know, he never tells me about that stuff."

Quinn sighs, slamming the cabinet shut, "Where the hell could he be?" She rests her head down on the cool metal,
squeezing her eyes shut, trying to think. Where the hell could a man of his stature hide? Someone must have seen him.
Someone must know who his business associates are. She groans to herself, banging her head softly against the
cabinet.
Who would know everything about William St. James? A family friend? A member of the St. James family? Perhaps an
enemy?
Her head snaps up, "Wallace Harper."

Jesse frowns, "The Alpha of Manhattan?"

"He constantly fights with your dad, right?"

"Yeah, everyone knows that. My dad hates Wallace; he thinks he's weak and shouldn't even command a Borough,
especially one as big as Manhattan."

Quinn nips at her lower lip, "If they fight that often, wouldn't Wallace have moles out? To track wherever your dad went?"
The light suddenly dawns in Jesse's eyes, "Holy crap, you're right."

She doesn't know why she hadn't thought of it sooner; it had been there all along. She had a trusted ally, an Alpha that
already commanded and had the motive to get rid of St. James just as much as they did. William had even told her how
strong his pack was; how did she not make the connection?

"The reason why you have no issues with your borough's Alpha is because he's a weakling. Honestly, I have no idea
why he's still in charge."
"So why is he still in command?"
"His pack is particularly strong. To get to him you have to get through them."
They already had the strength of a pack that they could rely on, if only they could contact Wallace and get him on their side.
"Do you know his number?" Quinn asks, already turning on the laptop that sits untouched on the desk.
"No, I just know that he owns an antique business in Manhattan. Google 'Obscura Antiques'."

As she types the name into Google, Jesse disappears back into the main bar, leaving her with the address of a man that
could potentially help. She only hoped they were received with open arms, and not bared fangs.
Max, still reading his cell phone, climbs out of the taxi cab and keeps both Quinn and Jesse updated with the rest of the
pack's information. So far, they had managed to persuade twenty-six people to join their pack and help the fight, but eight
others had been killed by standing their ground and swearing their allegiance to William.

Quinn grimaces at the number of deaths, but doesn't let it effect her; she knows there's much more to come, and more
lives to grieve over.

Obscura Antiques is a lot smaller than she first anticipated; she thought a man that practically ran Manhattan's werewolves
would have a lot of money behind him, but all that shows for it is a small little shop, filled to brim with everything you could
possibly imagine.
Max's inner child comes onto the scene when he catches sight of sealed comic books and Scott has to drag him away by
the hair because he refuses to move away from them. Quinn, heart pounding, steps toward the counter and rings the tiny
bell.

Jesse shuffles beside her, shifting from foot to foot, clenching and unclenching his fists, nervous.
"Relax." Quinn mutters once more.

"Just a second!" They all hear, then a hearty chuckle as a man in his sixties shuffles around a desk and almost trips over
as he gets to the counter. Quinn steps forward, anticipating to catch him before he smacks his head on the counter, but he
just grins and waves her off. "What can I do for you?"
"You're Wallace Harper, right?"

His eyebrow flicks up, "I am indeed. And you are?"

She glances over her shoulder at Scott, who nods his head, before replying, "Quinn Fabray."

Wallace's mouth drops open slightly, "Wellholy moly. I never anticipated the Alpha that was giving William St. James a
run for his money to be so" She almost rolls her eyes, "Blonde." Then she just glares.

He chuckles, "Sorry, I'm still stuck in the good ol' days when all Alpha's were aging men that preferred a good cigar and
brandy."

"Sorry to remind you that times have changed," She grumbles, but then sighs when the light in his eyes dim, "Sorry, we're
just under a lot of pressure. I apologize for snapping at you."

His grin returns, "What can I help you with?"

"William St. James."

The grin fades, "What about him?"

"We need your help stopping him." She fills him in, with the help of Jesse, who practically explains the whole thing, and by
the end of it, Wallace is sat down in a chair that looks far from safe and a haunted expression over his face.
"You're going to overthrow him? Your rag tag bunch?"

Quinn shrugs, "It's all we've got, that's why we came here. Even if you can't spare your pack, perhaps you could tell us
where he is."
Wallace glances at the group, taking them all in; how young they all were, but how strong their aura's were. He was
shocked to see that from the time he was a young boy, Alpha's were coming into power at a much younger age. Quinn
Fabray, the blonde that stood before him, stared at him with such a determined gaze. He still had trouble with William and
his ruthless pack, more often than not, and nothing would please him more to see William St. James struck from the map.

But his pack

"I'm sorry butmy pack is my family, I can't allow the loss of life."

Scott turns and walks away, standing at the front of the store, arms crossed over his chest. He knows that this is his
Alpha's battle, one she must fight alone. So he stands silently, staring out of the window, trying to sense if anyone that
could do them harm were nearby.
It's not long after that Jesse and Max both join him, staring out of the window, looks of understanding in their eyes.

"Our pack is small, we need your help."

"You didn't need my help before, did you?"

"I didn't-," Quinn stops, pinching the bridge of her nose, "I didn't realize you could possibly help. I thought this was just a
feud between William and I, but I know now that you can help. Please, just spare a few wolves that would be willing to
help."
Wallace shakes his head with a soft smile, "I'm sorry, Quinn. I can't allow my wolves just run to slaughter like that."

"So you'll let my wolves do it?"

"You asked them to." He shrugs, "I didn't."

He has a point and it startles her for a moment; she had ordered them to put their lives on the line for her, right?
She steels herself and sucks in a breath to calm herself, "Fine," She blows it out, "Then at least tell me where he is. I want
to stop him before anyone gets hurt."

Wallace grimaces as he stands, rubbing at the bottom of his back, "I'll make some calls for you. Wait out in front, alright?"
"Thank you, I appreciate it."

Wallace just nods and disappears back into his office.

She wanders around the store for a little while, taking in the paintings that hang on the walls, rubbing the dust off of old
records, flicking through old books that hadn't seen the light of day for a very long time. She just loses herself in the
melancholia, and somehow, it takes her back to another time.

Rachel had dragged her into an antique store just like this, when they were looking for a couch for the main room. They
had wandered for hours through a tiny little shop, unearthing things that time had forgotten. Rachel had been in heaven,
Quinn just wanted to leave. But now she just wants to stay, and if she shuts her eyes and remembers back to that day, she
can still hear the excitement in Rachel's voice, and her hand clutching at her own.

She wipes at the tear that brims at her eye and reminds herself that Rachel is alive and well; Sophia is taking care of her,
she left her mate in good hands. It's only when she ventures out into the front of the store that she wishes she could
disappear back into the past.
Max is staring at his phone, Jesse has his head in his hands, and Scott, the epitome of calm, has his eyes pinched and a
frown.
"What's wrong?"

Max just hands her his phone, she only glances over it once and hands it back. Her mouth, unable to work, forms words
that can't even be spoken. What can she say? What can she do? She shakes her head and gulps down the tears that
threaten to explode. She wants to kick and scream and ask 'why?'
But nothing comes, and all four of them stand there, stoic and unmoving, replaying those same words over and over
again.

We lost a group of seven.

Wallace slides a yellow post it note into her hand and ushers them out of the door. She doesn't question it; obviously he
had heard about the attacks and the deaths of some of her pack in the short time he had been in his office.

He wants to distance himself; he doesn't want a war on his doorstep and Quinn is quick to understand. She pockets the
note, thanks him, flags down and cab and jumps in with the rest of her group. It's only when they've shut the door and the
cab driver asks, "Where to?" That Quinn pulls the note free and glances at the address.
"Quinn?" Jesse asks.

Eyes barely seeing the paper, her hands begin to shake.

"Quinn?" Max nudges.

Scott leans over the two men and snatches the note, eyes narrowing, flashing a deep gold. "Quinn?"
"Where is he?" Max asks, glancing over to Scott, who keeps his mouth shut, "Scott?" He tries to look at the note, but it sits
crumpled in Scott's clenched fist.
Quinn growls and narrows her eyes, "He's at my apartment."

"I can't believe what mess you got yourself into." Sophia mutters, flipping through a magazine, half smiling, "Only you
would do the damsel in distress thing." She glances at Rachel, still the picture of calm and peace, chest raising softly and
slowly, color coming back into her tan cheeks.
Sophia flips another page, "I wonder if Quinn will rush in, on her steed, kiss you and break the spell?" She giggles softly to
herself, narrowing her eyes at a rather nice looking pair of heels in her magazine, "You, Rachel Berry, are the most
dramatic person I know."
She slaps the magazine shut and settles it on the bedside table. She props her chin on the palm of her hand and sighs,
"When are you gonna wake up, huh?" She smiles to herself, "You owe me coffee, remember?"
Bored of having sat alone, unable to move except to pee, Sophia looks around for something to do. She glances down at
her handbag, which lay dejected by her feet, and she snatches it up, peering inside.
Her purse, Lifesavers, an old lottery ticket and her iPod. She grins and snatches the small MP3, turning it on and flicking
to an album she had only put on the night before. She had seen on TV that people in coma's usually responded well to
music; somehow it reached their brain better than words. Maybe Rachel would appreciate a little Barbra to lighten the
mood?

She places one of the earphones into Rachel's ear and the other in her own. She flicks to her Barbra album and allows the
powerful tones of Rachel's favorite artist sooth them.

It soothed them too much, however, because after only the fourth song, Sophia's eyes began to slip shut. Exhaustion
swept over her; doing nothing could be so tiring. She rests her head down on the bed, hand clenched around Rachel's,
just in case she feels any movement, and shuts her eyes. Might as well get a little shut eye; who knew how long Quinn and
the rest of them would be away.

In the haze of limbo, she wonders if Max is okay.

"Rachel!" Quinn screams as she races up the stares, tripping over the top one and almost falling flat to her face. Scott
catches her, then overtakes her, storming toward the apartment door. He stops, but only briefly, to look at the caved in
door.

"Someone's booted it open."

Jesse and Max, panting behind them, freeze and continue, following Scott into the room. Quinn stands frozen in the
hallway, unable to move, wondering and praying that Rachel was still in the apartment.
She shuts her eyes and listens to the manic voices of Max, Jesse and Scott as they search the tiny apartment. They say
nothing aloud, although they know that Quinn can hear them. Jesse, disheartened, tells them that the living room and
kitchen is clear. Scott says the same with the bathroom.

But Max growls, almost hissing with seething anger, "Sophia!"

Quinn's eyes snap open and she dashes into the apartment, heading straight to the bedroom. Max stands at the foot of
the bed, Sophia's iPod in his hand, staring at the tousled bed sheets. Rachel is no longer there and the chair Sophia had
been sat on was propped against the wall, a sheet of white paper stuck to it with a pen knife.

She holds her hand up when Scott emerges and goes to grab it, "This is my problem." She rips the pen knife free and
pockets it, unfolding the paper.

Come to the reserve tonight, eight o'clock, alone, if you want any chance of getting your mate and friend back alive.
William St. James.

Max seethes as Quinn runs through the plan with him.

"You can't be serious!" He growls, eyes locked gold, hair tousled over his eyes, "You can't go alone! It's a trap, can't you
see that? He's probably already-,"
"Don't you dare say it," Quinn growls back, low and menacing. He takes one long breath, then his shoulder slump,
dejected. He feels so helpless, and although surrounded by the strongest wolves he knows, alone.
"I'll bring them back safe." Quinn turns to glance at Scott. He's leaning against the kitchenette counter, arms over his
chest, leg kicked back to balance himself. "I can do this." Scott's eyes betray nothing, and neither does his mind; he's a
blank slate. She knows he's trying to prove a point; you can't depend on me forever.

"He's my father, I should go too. I'll hide somewhere, just shout if you need me."
Quinn shakes her head and turns to Jesse, "No, you can't. He's an Alpha; only I have the right to end this." Jesse opens
his mouth to reply, but she silences him with a flick of an eyebrow, "He has my mate, Jesse. He's crossed over a line he
should never have been near. He'll pay for this."

She looks to Max, "I swear I'll get Sophia back, Max. I promise you that."
Max huffs and clenches his fights tightly, "On your honor?"
Quinn nods, "On my honor."

Hesitantly, he nods, "I swear, if you don't come back alive"

She chuckles, "Don't worry." Her face contorts and a sneer spreads across her lips, "William St. James is going to
fucking regret touching my mate."
Q howls at the back of her mind, steady and sure; Alpha pride back, fighting spirit ready to attack.
Time to fight.

The chill brushes past her skin as she steps into the entrance of the reserve. It's dark, there's no moon out; there's nothing
to shine a light on the wooded area as she walks by. Anyone could attacked, anyone could be following her. She relies on
her wolf's senses, keeping them locked on the tiny pricks of sound she hears as she steps, trying to differentiate them
between the sounds of wolves or other animals. Her nose, sniffing the air softly, tries to smell out any intruders.
She has no idea where to go; William had never given her an exact location, so she goes to the clearing where she and
her pack had trained day and night to perfect their fighting techniques.
Her pack, who ran at over two-hundred strong, now sat in the hundred eighties. They had lost many and Quinn felt their
loss deep inside of her. She mourned for the loss of her pack; she mourned the loss of newly made friends.
She stands, hands in her pockets, tilting her head at every sound. She hears nothing except the tiny rustle of rabbit feet
and deer dashing across dying leaves.
Her heart pounds deep inside her chest, her muscles ache from how long she has been tensed for and her eyes begin to
burn from trying to make out the clearing around her. She wonders if she should transform to her wolf, but she wants to at
least talk to William before ripping out his throat.

Her fists flex open and shut, remembering how she had shook Scott's hand before she left. She had thanked him for all his
hard work, and that in her absence, he was in charge. He had smiled, briefly, and shook her hand. Jesse had simply
crossed his arms and told her to be careful, but she could tell he was too emotional to actually speak; either his friend or
his father would die, he didn't know what to say. Max, however, had pleaded to go with her. He had begged, told her he
could help, that he'd hide in the bushes and steal back Rachel and Sophia when William wasn't looking. It was tempting,
but at the end of the day, it could spell disaster and the end of Rachel and Sophia.

She wasn't willing to toy with fate.

Part of her wishes that her family was here, supporting her, fighting with her. Her father, strong and noble would stand by
her side, ready to pounce. Her mother would stand back, defending them from behind. Frannie, her strong and agile wolf
would dash and attack without even being seen.

She wonders how Alfred would react, knowing she was out here alone. She half chuckles, half grimaces to herself. He'd
have a fit and ground her, even at the age of almost twenty-two.

There's a snap of a tree branch and her head snaps toward it, "You're here," She whispers, narrowing her eyes as the
familiar silhouette of William St. James appears from behind a tree. Still decked in a business suit that was worth six of
her pay checks, he looks as if he's just come from a long day at work. His tie, still pristine and knotted to his neck, his hair,
perfectly styled.

"Thanks for coming," He sounds less than thankful. He stares at her almost as if she's the dirt at the bottom of his shoe. "I
hear you've been causing quite a commotiontrying to flush me out?"

Quinn's eyebrow flicks up, "It worked, didn't it?"

William smirks, "That it did." He adjusts the Omega at his wrist, checking the time briefly, "Tell me. How did you come up
with this plan?"
She stays silent; she knows he's playing a game, he knows full well who came up with the plan. Jesse had told her more
than enough times that his father was getting rather suspicious of his behaviour and had actually asked at one point why
Scott and he were sneaking off together to talk in secret.

William catches, "Not going to tell me?" He shrugs his shoulders, "Look, Miss. Fabray, I'm far too old to be messing
around with little revolutions. You won't win, I guarantee; the casualties on your side far outweigh mine."

He sees her falter, a slight twitch in her eyes, "Why don't you just let this go and I'll continue to command the Brooklyn
borough. Hm?" He reaches out his hand, eyes narrowed on hers, expecting her to shake.

She ignores it, "Where's Rachel and Sophia?"

He drops his hand, "They're safe."
"If you've touched on hair on their heads, I swear-,"

"You swear what?" He steps forward, then chuckles when she almost jumps back a step, "They're in safe hands, don't you
worry."

"Why did you take them in the first place?"

"Insurance."
Quinn chuckles, "So you were worried that I would win."
He shrugs a shoulder, "Perhaps. I just needed a little security blanket to fall back on. If you had gotten through my pack, I
guarantee you wouldn't have gotten to me before I slit your mate's throat."
She growls, low and danger. Q, every strand of fur on end, sneers and growls at the back of her mind, pressuring Quinn to
attack.
"So what happens now?"

"You give up and we forget this ever happened."

"And if I refuse?"

William tilts his head slightly to the right, eyes pursuing her; she's strong, he knows that, he can sense it, but nowhere near
as strong as him.

"I will kill you." He says it so matter of fact, that it's almost like he's doing normal day to day business.
She sneers and clenches her fist, watching him; he's smug as all hell and he takes the time to re-adjust the cuffs on his
suit. He's acting like it's business as usual and it pisses her off to no end. The man doesn't care that he's lost members of
his pack, he doesn't feel the pain that she does whenever she learns from Max that yet another wolf has died. He's
heartless and he cares for nothing as long as he has power.
She remembers the training sessions with Alfred; how he told her to pace herself in a fight and not to show your hand
immediately. She was bound to fight someone stronger than her; it's like he almost knew what was going to happen and
he was grooming her for such an event so she could fight without him by her side, cheering her on.

She wonders what her father would think and what he would do if he was here right now.
But she's alone, on her own in an empty wilderness with a hyena in wolf fur. The decision she makes now could end
everything; they could go back to the way it was and Rachel and Sophia returned to them. But she could choose to fight,
and perhaps lose Rachel all over again.

"Formation 12."

She barely reacts to it, but she hears it, so low that she has to strain. Q howls in confirmation, and she's dying to look
around to find the owner of the voice, but if she tears her eyes away, she knows she'll give them up.
"William, just give up your position as Alpha."

He chuckles, a shark barking laugh that has her cringing, "And why the hell should I do that? I run the Borough just fine. I
had no trouble until you arrived."

"Because I finally gave the wolves of your Borough the guts to actually stand up for what they believed in. They're all
terrified of you and they want to a better life; one you can't give them."

"And you can?" He sneers.

She smiles, softly, content, because she knows, "Yes, I can."

The breeze sifts through the trees, reverberating with a soft howl and William regards the bright eyed blonde. He had
never expected to have his position threatened by a damn Barbie doll, but she had constantly surprised him. He had
heard of the loses of his pack; how they had fallen to Quinn's superior techniques. She was someone to be reckoned with;
that much was certain.

"Sothis is how it's going to be?"

He glances over his shoulder and smirks when a tall, stout man appears from behind the trees. He senses the shift in
Quinn, from defensive to attack; she hadn't known someone else was there.
The man carries two women on his shoulders, setting them softly on the ground between them. He glances at Quinn, eyes
narrowed. Her mouth, agape, eyes widened and misty, "Scott?"
He looks toward William, nods and then walks away.

"You really thought he was on your side?"

Quinn, mouth opening and shutting, flounders, "But"

William chuckles, low and dark, "There's a reason that I made him my Beta."
Chin dropped to her chest, she stares between them, watching the gentle rise and fall of Rachel's chest. "He was with me
all that time."
"Double crossing you."

She squeezes her eyes shut, focusing on the barely there breathing of her mate. Soft and gentle, almost as if she's softly
napping away. She wishes she could melt away and sleep in Rachel's arms. All she wants is to curl up and lose herself
with her girlfriend, forget everything about this damn plan, forget about meeting William St. James.
She just wants Rachel.

And she'll get her.

"Fine." Quinn sneers, head snapping up to look at her, "I'll fight for your position and also Sophia and Rachel's safety."

William's eyebrow arches, "One on one?"

She nods, "One on one. Whoever wins, controls Brooklyn and takes the girls."

He smirks, contemplates it for a few moments and then begins to unbutton his suit jacket. Quinn sucks in a breath as his
chest is bared to her; she's really going to do this, she's really going to fight him. She could either live or die here. She
focuses herself, allows herself to breathe as William shuffles around before her.
She puts her faith in Q, who she knows will fight with everything she has. She prepares herself, both mentally and
physically. She feels her bones begin to crack as William morphs before her, the telltale black fur shining through his skin.
She forces her mind into Q's body and begins to change; hoping she comes out of this alive for Rachel's sake.

Lunging at one another, stood on hind legs, they connect with each other. Skulls crack together, teeth class as they try to
rip at one another's throats. A golden wolf surges and snarls at the black wolf that clasps at it with it's front paws. Nails dig
deep into her chest and she fights off the pain, focusing on lunging for his throat.
He lets out a sharp bark and nips at her front legs, making her drop. She glances up just in time to see him lunge at her,
and she rolls over, kicking herself back up to her feet. Paws, digging into the dirt, steady her as he circles her. She feels
so out of her depth; he's much faster than she first anticipated. Her lunging move usually pays off in the first go, and she's
usually got something between her jaws with no issue at all.
She knows now why William had gone unchallenged for so long.

He sneers at her, white fangs bared, fur on end as he regards her. The circle the two unconscious girls and Q tries not to
glance down at her mate to make sure she's okay. She circles to the side, hoping to draw him away from them, but he
stands his ground, prone and ready to attack.
She looks around, catching sight of the fallen tree trunk only a few feet behind him. She howls and fakes a lunge forward.
He falls for it and jumps back, his back feet slipping against the moss covered trunk, sending him sprawling to the floor.
With a whine, he looks up. Mid-air, claws extended, jaw wide open, Q lunges for him, aiming straight for his neck.

He kicks his front paws out and kicks her away. She lands in a heap, inches from Rachel's slumbering form and she
whimpers when she feels the cuts to her chest rub as she rises back to her feet.

William, whimpering as he circles the clearing, watches her with steady eyes. She watches his front legs, watching as they
buckle slightly with each step; the speed at which she was going had damaged his legs, and although her chest had taken
a beaten, at least she could still move perfectly.
She prowls forward, head dropped, ears pricked. He stops, steps back and dashes into the woods. With a howl, Q
dashes after him, avoiding the fallen trees and bushes as she follows his scent. He's much slower than before, but it
doesn't stop him from somehow disappearing. His scent disappears and she can't seem to hear his thoughts anymore.

She huffs, sniffing at the dirt, trying in vain to pinpoint him. But she remembers that he's a much older Alpha and had learnt
techniques she would only learn in the years to come; he could hide his scent, just like Jesse had learnt to do back when
he was in High School. Like father like son.
Having lost his scent, she dashes back to the clearing, anticipating his return. He can't run forever. Rachel and Sophia lay
on the ground, still unconscious and unmoving. She blows out a breath through her snout in relief. Who knows what he
could have planned by drawing her away; maybe Scott would come back and take the girls, knowing his Alpha was
running on empty.
She shakes her head of the thoughts and focuses on trying to hear him treading through the bush. The burning ache to her
chest registers more than before now that the adrenaline had worn off, but she can feel the blood pour; she needs to end
this soon before she bleeds out. He had cut deep, right into the muscle.

"Come out! Are you really going to run and hide from me?"
There's nothing, even the breeze seems to have died down.

"Formation 12."

The voice sounds so familiar, but it's so quiet that she can't exactly pinpoint it. But she heeds the voices words and takes
three measured steps back.

"Fine. I'll finish you off now."

She knows that voice all too well. William comes out from behind the shrubbery and stands opposite her, way on the
opposite side of the clearing. "Just needed to catch my breath."

He's still limping, in fact, his right foot is off the ground slightly, unable to take the pressure of his weight on it.

"You're finished, William. Just give up now and I'll let you go free."

William barks, and even as a wolf, you can almost tell it's a laugh, "A few hurt limbs won't stop me, you blonde bitch." He
prepares for another attack, eyes narrowed and Q listens to the voice in her mind once more.

"On your mark, Alf."

She would laugh if she could, but instead she prepares herself, focused only on him, wishing to God that Rachel and
Sophia didn't get caught up in the crossfire. She wait's a beat, then two, and three and takes one long breath through her
snout.
She pads one paw forward, ready to lunge and just when William is about to lunge forward, she barks, out loud, allowing it
to reverberate around the entire clearing.
William storms toward her, all four paws blowing up the dirt, his eyes almost glow manically as he races toward her. He's
only a few feet away, and she half wonders if she's been played as she dashes toward him, using all the power she has in
her run. But then she hears the rustling, and the howling, and the barking, and almost a Technicolor wave of wolves rush
from their hiding spots in the trees, lunging into the clearing and toward William.
His head snaps around, teeth bared, growling as he watches the countless wolves come toward him. He lunges at them,
snapping at their necks, legs and faces. They fall and Q growls as she lunges at his neck when his back is turned. He
glances over his shoulder at her and kicks her back with his powerful hind legs, sending her sprawling into the dirt.

She sees a flash of brown enter the clearing and she knows immediately that it's Jesse. He lunges at his father as she
climbs to her feet, shaky, chest aching, dried blood caking her fur. She's weak, losing blood and she can barely focus on
Jesse shouting at his father, telling him to just give up, before William swats him across the face, ripping open his snout
with sharp claws.
Jesse collapses to the dirt and Q is about to rush toward him and help when another wolf moves up from behind her. She
tenses to attack when she realizes that the wolf is indeed Scott, but something inside her makes her stop.

"Kill her!"

She hears William shout, but Scott doesn't comply. He looks to the golden wolf beside him and bows his head, "I could
never betray you, Alpha."
Q bows her head, but just as soon as she's raised her head, Scott has already lunged forward and in the middle of a head
on collision with a defensive William St. James. Two black wolves collide and sprawl to the floor, snapping at one another,
sneering and yapping at sharp teeth nip and rip at each other's skin.

She doesn't know what to do; she knows she has to end it, and if she doesn't, Scott could die. But Rachel and Sophia are
still there, and Jesse is injured, barely able to climb to his own feet.

"Leave it to me."

She stops in her tracks when Max rushes toward her, "I'll grab Sophia and Rachel. You help Jesse."

Q nods and dashes toward her fallen friend, hoping with everything she has that Max gets the girls away safe. Jesse is
whimpering on the floor by the time she gets to him. The cut to his face is deep, and she can clearly see his eye socket,
bone soaked red with blood. She knows he has to get out of here, and so do the other wolves that helped in Formation
12, but she has no idea how to do it. Jesse is in no position to move and the other wolves that can move can only limp and
help themselves.

"Shit." She hisses to herself, nudging at Jesse with her snout, "Jesse, can you move?"

There's a growl and then, "Fuck, forget me. Just help Scott."

"We're in this together, Jesse. I'm not leaving you behind."

She nudges her nose under Jesse's stomach and while moving forward, slides him onto her back. The added weight
would be nothing to her, but with her bleeding chest, she can barely keep herself stable. It takes a few seconds and some
very steady steps, but she makes it over to a flat plane of grass. She settles him down softly, careful not to injure his face
anymore than it already is.

"Go help Scott"

Q snuffs, "You'll be okay here?"

"Ye-,"

There's a screeching howl and Q's head snaps up; it sounds just like Scott.

"Fuck, go help him, now!" Jesse screams at the back of her mind and she doesn't hesitate to dash back into the clearing.
Her eyes widen when she catches sight of Scott, pinned to the ground, William's teeth clenching around his neck.

"I don't work with traitors." William says calmly, teeth baring deeper down on Scott's fragile neck. Q growls and dashes
forward, jumping and lunging at William. She won't let Scott die; she won't let anyone else die.

He catches her at the last moment and lets go of Scott's neck, biting down on the back of her neck and slamming her to
the ground with a powerful swing. Pinned the ground, writhing in agony, paws scratching at the dirt for purpose, she cries
out to Scott who can barely move.

"This is why no one fucks with me, Quinn. This is why no one survives if they try overthrow me. You made a grave
mistake by crossing me, you bitch. I'm going to enjoy this."
The pain in indescribable; it spreads throughout her entire body and seizes up each and every one of her muscles. Her
blood pours from her open wounds, her eyes grow heavy and threaten to close, but she fights to stay awake; she needs to
stay awake and end him.

She tries to shake herself free, but to no avail, the teeth just seem to dig deeper into her skin and pass through thick
muscle. The blood pours down her neck and mats her fur, and she knows she can't lose anymore blood otherwise she
won't be any use to anyone.
With each ounce of strength she has left, she tries to fight back, swatting at him with her paws, kicking at him, trying to
launch him off her back with a well timed lunge, but nothing seems to work.
She hears his hollow chuckle at the back of her mind, and as her eyes begin to dim, and her heart begin to slow, the
chuckle slowly dies away, and so does the pressure at the back of her neck. She lays there, paralyzed as she hears the
tussle behind her. Scott is still laying beside her, and she can still see Jesse laying in the grass outside of the clearing.

Try as she might, she can't seem to move her head to get a good look at the wolf that is attacking William, but she doesn't
have to try hard for too long. Suddenly, two large wolves lunge across the dirt, locked in a tussle as they snap and swipe at
one another. Max, eyes glowing a deep gold lunges for William's throat, but misses when the Alpha rolls away from the
grip, leaving Max to collapse to the ground.

She cries out his name, trying to warn him, but William is already above him, his much larger body shadowing over Max,
and his teeth are at his neck, and Q howls out when William goes for his neck, biting down hard, right at the throat.

Helpless, she watches as Max whimpers and tries to kick the Alpha away, but William's grip is much too strong. She tries
to get up and help, and with every bit of strength she has left, shaking paws push her up to the ground. Blood pouring, she
dashes over to the occupied William and narrows in on his bared throat.
Teeth bared, bloody and ravenous, they clamp around William's throat. She hears the whimper, she hears the gush of his
blood against her mouth, and she doesn't second guess it, she doesn't wonder about her next move, she just pulls back
and only stops when she has nothing left to pull on.

Moments, seconds, minutes, hours later, she awakens. In the orange haze of sunrise, her eyes crack open. Tired, body
aching, she looks down at herself. No longer in wolf form, but fully naked in her human form, she checks the wounds on her
body.
The deep scratches to her chest haven't begun to heal, but the bleeding has stopped. She has bloody scratches and
aching bruises that cover her entire body, and as she sits up, her head swims with pain.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she tries to focus her vision, and after a few minutes, when the wave of nausea passes, she
manages to open her eyes to glance around the clearing.

Scott, in human form and naked, lay crumpled on his side, gripping at his neck with a bloody hand. His eyes were barely
open, but his broad chest rose and fell softly with each breath. Jesse, now human, no longer sat in the grass clearing she
had put him in. She looks around, trying in vain to search out for him, but sees nothing. Her senses are shot; she can't
smell him, or even track his thoughts.
She sighs softly, fighting to her feet. She swipes at the back of her neck and runs her fingers through the drying blood and
winces; at least she would heal. Her eyes land on two crumpled forms; William St. James and Maxwell Thorpe.

Slowly, trying not to stumble or throw up, she heads toward them. She looks down at William, arm half extended to check
his pulse, before realizing he didn't have a throat anymore. His head was contorted back in such a distorted position, only
a few inches of skin and muscle keeping it attached to the rest of his body.
She shudders at the power her wolf holds.

Hazel eyes lock on Max, whose neck is covered with blood. She frowns and collapses to her knees, resting her hand on
his shoulder. He's so cold; but then again, New York in November was always cold, but not for a wolf.

His warm blood should still be pumping through, but she felt no such heat. With a lump growing in her throat, and the heat
reaching up to itch at her eyes, she reaches out with a shaking hand and checks his pulse.

"Quinn! I found the girls!"

Stoic, sobbing softly, she barely hears Jesse's voice as he comes toward her.

"R-Rachel, I think she's awake!" He sounds so jovial, although his father lay crumpled before his friend and half his cheek
is ripped to shreds. "She was groaningI left her with Sop-," He stops, drops his hand from his cheek and stares at
Quinn.
"Quinn?"

She doesn't even look up at him, she doesn't even remember saying the words, but she collapses against Max and holds
him close, sobbing into his neck, shaking him with all the strength she had, screaming for him to wake up.

Jesse drops back onto his backside, eyes staring into space as he contemplates Quinn's hollow words.

"He's dead"

I make no excuses for how long this take to crank out, but I was actually on holiday, I still am, so I guess I do
have an excuse! An epilogue will be posted sometime later on in the week =]
*Chapter 24*: Epilogue
How long ago was it since my fight with William St. James? How long ago has it been since Scott triple crossed William
to stand by my side? How long ago has it been since Jesse cradled his face in pain at his own father's torture? How long
ago has it been since hearing Sophia's ear piercing scream as she collapsed by Max's unmoving body?

How long has it been since I sat here, unmoving, trying to write eulogy for my best friend? Rachel, still hearing from her
near death experience at my hands, stays in the main room, out of my way. For days since she woke up, I hadn't been
able to move from her side; I clutched to her like a child clutched at its mother. She whispered how much she loved me,
how sorry she was for pressuring me, how thankful she is for having me talk to her while she was recovering.

I heard her voice, but I barely heard her words. Max's death still plagued me and the endless calls from his family and
friends asking what happened, if I was with him when he was attacked by a wolf while we were out in the reserve
'camping'. It hurt to lie, and of course his parents knew the truth, but lying to his close friends all but emotionally crippled
me.

I have the same pen in my hand, tapping away, trying to put into words how amazing Max really was; how much of a free
spirit he was, how we could put the smile on my face no matter my mood, how he stood by me until the very end. I'm
sobbing before I even have chance to stop the tears from staining the blank paper.
Quietly, I try to stem the tears and my heartbroken sobs, but she hears, she always does. The bedroom door open and her
arms wrap around me, a tight security blanket that I've always need. She whispers in my ear that she loves me, but she
never tells me 'it'll be okay' because she knows I hate those words; right now, it's never going to be okay, I don't want to
acknowledge a day when I wake up and feel fine that Max is dead.
I lean back into her, feeling the soft warmth she resonates. It's almost like she was never gone and even though she's still
healing from her near death experience, she still carries the same energy and life; I honestly forget how strong she is
sometimes. She may be tiny and compact, but she's still the strongest woman I know.

She kisses my neck, softly brushing her fingertips against the healing wounds on my chest over my shirt. I barely feel the
pain anymore, but sometimes I wonder if that's because my heart hurts more than any mortal wound does.

I love her with all I have, and I will gladly give my life for her. She brushes her lips against my ear, whispers she loves me
once more, and puts the pen back in my hand. She moves to leave, but I grab her hand and look at her. No words are
needed, she knows I want her to stay.
With a soft smile and watery brown eyes, she sits down beside me. Although she despised Max at first, she grew to love
him, and she eventually saw him as a big brother. She tells me she regrets not being able to tell him every time I take a
call from a family or friend of his.

The pen feels like a lead weight in my hand and my hand trembles under the pressure of the words I have to write. Why
should I have the right to speak at his funeral? Why couldn't his father? Or his mother? Why did it have to be me?

I tried to pass on the privilege to Jesse, but he just shook his head and said it wouldn't be right; he didn't know Max as well
as I had, hadn't been as close as I had been. I asked Scott, my Beta, but he just patted me on the shoulder and told me I
was strong enough to get through it on my own.
I should trust him, he's my Beta, and now that I am due to take control of the Brooklyn Borough as the werewolf leader, I'm
at a loss as to if I can do it. Max had always told me I had it in me, and I believed in, but now that he's gone, and his smile
isn't there to comfort me, I don't know if I can.

Rachel glances at me and smiles, a tear slowly sliding down her cheek, she whispers that I can do it, that I can write
something, but my hand won't move. She leans forward and kisses the tip of my nose. Suddenly, my hand moves, and I
write.
I write all the good times together, how he was obsessed with comic books, how he would always fool around with our
professor at college and try to wind him up, how he would try to stuff a whole plate of nachos in his mouth because
someone dared him to.

I write about how faithful he was, and how much he loved Sophia Richmond, I write about how good a friend he was, how
good a son, how good a student, how good a role model.

I write about how much I love him and how much I'll miss him, and while I sob as I say my final goodbye, Rachel, my lovely
sweet Rachel holds me close and whispers how proud she is of me in my ear before dropping a kiss to the wounds at the
back of my neck.
Her presence keeps me together, keeps me whole and I am forever thankful I had her returned to me. Although I swore to
protect her, more often than not, it is her that protects me. I am fragile, especially in such a time of pain and upcoming
leadership, but she is there to hold me together.

I am forever thankful that the change didn't take her from me, and although I lost a dear friend, I know he would be laughing
at how over emotional I am being right now. He'd slap me on the back and tell me to drink a beer, and crack it open on the
couch arm just like he did all those times before.

Thanks to him, Rachel and Sophia were protected, and for that, I couldn't thank him enough. I will pour my heart at his
eulogy, and share with Brooklyn that their new Alpha has a heart, that their Alpha cares for the people that their Borough
loses.
I will be a leader with unwavering strength and courage, and with my mate at my side, I know I will lead well. She will
question whatever course of action I will take, she will complain at my long hours; but I would rather have that than the
shattering silence I had to endure when I thought she was gone.

I thank all the wolves that gave their life to end William St. James rule over Brooklyn; your courage and strength will never
be forgotten.

And as for the funeral, I will stand by Sophia's side and hold her hand as I read what I have written. She had only known
Max for such a small time, but I have no doubt in my mind that she will love him for the rest of her life.

I will take care of her Max, you have my word.

And of course, I'll marry Rachel, just like you told me to. I'll put that ring back on her finger and set a date and I know you'll
watch over the ceremony with a grin, a beer and a plate of nachos.
I love you Maxwell, you were the brother I never had.

Thank you for saving Rachel, thank you for showing me that I was more than I thought I could be, thank you for loving
Sophia so fiercely, thank you for making me laugh and cry and endure those awful hangovers!

Thank you Max, thank you for everything.