Forbidden

Summary: Rachel has dreams of a life that is not her own, when her grandmother's disappearance, all signs points towards the Supernatural, Rachel becomes hasty about her rejection towards her witch heritage. When fate decides to bring her and our favourite Original Hybrid, with secrets of his own – secrets that will lead Rachel to her own sacred calling. Yet, there is something that both of them don't know, an inescapable truth for longed told that will push the boundaries between them both.

Chapter One:

Rachel Berry knew she was dreaming, she had to be. Once again she was standing on the edge of the cliff face, the hard, rocky ground beneath her worn out, satin slippers were already warmed by the rising, scorching sun. The unblinking, orange eye of the Gods above rose slowly over the distant waters, she could clearly hear the waves of the waters crash against the rocks below her. Just like in every dream before, Rachel wore an elegant satin ball gown, the hem of the dress was torn and caked in dried mud in a hazed to escape the dangerous men that wanted not only to destroy her but the creatures she loved and protected.

The dark green shawl that she wore barely covered her bare shoulders, Rachel felt herself shiver as the light, sea breeze danced across her skin, and a small smile came to her face at the thought of finally being free from the dangers that was back at the village a thousand miles behind them. Her fingers then went to the silver chain that hanged around her neck, holding a locket that was simply tucked away between her breasts; it was her family crest, the locket once belonged to her mother and yet; Rachel wondered how she knew that considering she doesn't even know her biological birthmother from a bar of soap- all she knows is that she loved music and has a great singing voice- thanks to that tape that Jesse St. James found in her little treasure box.

This isn't real. This can't be me! I mean this woman has pale skin almost the colour of cream, dark ebony curls and let's not forget gorgeous! Rachel thought, sighing to herself. I'm tan skinned, too tan for my liking, plain looking, and thin; I am not curvy at all, not like her anyway.

And yet, Rachel knew the truth, it was her. She was there. On the edge of that precipice, in that body. Two men stood on either side of her, the one on her right was a little closer, as he took her hand into his own; Rachel breathing slightly hitched at the burning passion that burst throughout her body, shaking her to the core, she loved this man with all her heart and soul, she would die protecting this man. He raised her right arm a little higher, the sleeve of her dressing falling back revealing the angry, bloodied welts that was from the effortless struggling against the shackles that those vile men placed her in. Rachel wanted to turn her head, to look at him, feel his lips upon her own one last time but her dream body failed to do any of that.

She didn't care, for she already knew what he looked like anyway. His long, dark blonde locks tied back by a black ribbon, some mistake it for a light shade of brunette; his fine suit of navy blue with a sash of purple and white, Rachel also seen a glimpse of his wolf cufflinks. Shouts were heard in the distance, followed by that of the approaching sound of horseshoes clicking against the gravel road, both men growled darkly, as Rachel was pulled behind them closer towards the edge, just seconds later Rachel was plummeting.

She did not scream, not a single scream escaped from her; her body twisted and turned; arrowing downward like an Eagle would do on its chosen prey. Her weight propelled her faster as her feet pedalled effortlessly, the only sounds she could hear was the light flapping of the gown, the wind dancing past her face quickly- the shawl floated towards the water below just beyond her reach, her dark brunette curls flared around her like a waterfall. She smelled the wind, tasting the salt from the waters below; sucking in deeply as she took her final breath and simply awaited her fate. Then she heard them once again just like before, the voices chanting the same, familiar yet unfamiliar verse and she joined them. Her heart raced faster as she waited to feel the impact of the waters and the sharp rocks below, then she felt it- the sudden jolt of electricity run throughout her body, going through every cell. Sharp yelps and howls of a wolf were heard from the edge of the cliffs above, Rachel whispered a silent farewell to the animal.

And then nothing.

Total blackness.

Rachel opened her eyes with a slight gasp, staring through the swirling darkness at the ceiling of her bedroom; pasty sweat caked her forehead as she willed her heart rate to exceed back to normal. It was banging so hard against her ribcage that she instantly thought she was close to having a heart attack, Rachel laid very still; afraid that if she made any sort of movement it would make things worse, her eyes wide, blinking at the patterns on her ceiling. I'm not on some cliff edge, overlooking some ocean, in some weird country. I am not wearing some dress that looks like it belongs in a museum. And I don't have elegant, ebony curls; I have brunette hair, straight brunette hair- no ebony curls here.

Rachel took a deep breath, held it in for a heartbeat or two then let it out, real slowly. And she did it again.

Then again.

And once more.

It was a technique that she and her old childhood best friend, Bonnie Bennett learned in the open circle gatherings they used to attend to with their grandmothers; the small coven was lead by Rochelle's grandmother, Amelia or Lady Amelia to the coven, that was when Rachel believed in all of that stuff.

Which she didn't anymore.

When she was growing up, learning the ways of the Wicca was her drug; in her teenaged years, she believed and relied on the magic she was taught from an early age to help her father defeat cancer. But all of the 'magical' herbs, remedies and spells she performed, failed and her father, Leroy still died.

When it was safe for her to move again, Rachel turned to face to look at the clock on her wooden, nightstand.

A witching hour too, no doubt and right before All Hollows Eve.

Oh shut up, I don't believe that crap anymore! I'm Jewish! Who ever heard of a Jewish witch anyway?

And she almost can never quite fall back to sleep after that, sitting up in bed; Rachel combed her fingers through her hair, pulling on the ends and watched as the knotted locks sprang back into place. She had gotten the hairstylist to shape her fringe in a slight side-sweep; it tended to fall over her face making her feel like she was mysterious in some way. With her heart still hammering away, Rachel knew she needed a glass of water. Sweeping of the covers, getting to her feet a little too quickly for her liking- Rachel pressed her palms over her closed eyelids in an attempt to stop the room from spinning.

Okay, now she needed something stronger other than water and ice cream in her system; but her last alcoholic drinking session, something that most of the Glee club still find it hard to remember what happened, Finn and Kurt; the only two sober people there that night failed to give any more details and her bitch of mother will not let her forget about that kind of snubbed that little idea out like a smouldered flame. When she was steady again, rummaging through the darkness; Rachel stubbed her pinkie toe on the corner of her antique chest, cussing a few curses out loud before quieting down, remembering that her father Hiram was a light sleeper.
Rachel then remembered that her dad was still away on one of his ever so long business trips, Rachel knew that he was dating secretly. And she knew that Hiram was still trying to get over the fact that Leroy wasn't here anymore and he has now a teenage daughter to care for. Once she walked in on one of Hiram's flings in the kitchen, he was a swinger- going from town to town, rarely staying anywhere more than one night. There he was, in the kitchen, drinking her orange juice- that wasn't the main problem... The problem was that he was naked, from head to toe and Rachel could see everything he had display, after a few words between Rachel, Hiram and Mr Naked were exchanged; there was no more naked men in the kitchen- or that she seen. With her glass of water in hand and her bowl of ice cream in the other, she walked over towards the lounge room doubled window, drawing back the curtains, yanking it open letting the moonlight rays into the room that dimly lit it.

She sat on the window still, with one leg dangling outside, her toes lightly brushing against the top of the bushes that grew outside her window, while the other was holding her firmly inside. Before she could even take a sip of her water, the brunette girl went very, very still as her brown eyes were glued onto her wrists, which she realised bloody hurt. The pain seemed to be a part of the dream or nightmare, like the pain on her back from her impact with the waters and the deadly, sharp rocks. She'd waited for it to fade like it had done so before, but clearly this time, it was going to.
Clearly, considering that there were angry welts upon her wrists, welts that had been bleeding and they still bore the pattern of the rough-spiked chains.
Her jaw dropped as a small, gasp of shock escaped from her; with that her one and only cigarette till her payday in the morning fell from her lips and fluttered down towards the garden bed below like a girl dressed in green plummeting from the cliff in Ireland.
Not Ireland dear figlio, Italy

Rachel screamed slightly as she turned around to the dimly lit room to face whoever the hell whispered the correction in her ears, but she felt idiotic and stupid as she realised that it came from her own mind.
Sighing once again, Rachel straightened herself up; turned to close the window but not before seeing a few fruit bats fly past the window, she shook her head muttering under her breath as she drew her curtains, shutting away the outside world and tried to go back to sleep.

She needed to talk to someone, and that someone would be very pissed off if he received a phone call at one in the morning; even if he knew that it was Rachel calling.
Maybe she should call Blaine in the morning, arrange for a coffee and maybe a quick bite to eat, that will surely made Blaine come to meet.
Who doesn't like coffee and a free lunch?

This is my second Glee/TVD crossover fanfiction story, hope you like it! Okay….

Also Figlio means Child in Italian… I used Google translate for this…

So forgive me if I use some words out of context and the translation is incorrect.

Okay… That is all… you may click to review now.