Break The Spell, a glee fanfic

Disclaimer: No ownership of the Glee character names or the song Break The Spell. Daughtry own that.

A/N: Would he ever be enough for her?

Puck felt Quinn shudder underneath him, their fast heavy breathing mingling together, their open mouths just barely touching. She moaned an instant before she was robbed of breath, her arms tightening around his shoulders, her legs tightening round his thighs. Puck felt himself explode inside her and everything stopped for a second. Even the earth stalled. Until reality hit once again.

"I can't do this again," Puck said, looking down into Quinn's eyes, his breath wafting her hair. "This is the last time, I can't keep being your ego boost every time you discover your latest 'perfect mate' has a flaw," he rocked into her again, their bodies still deliciously joined, his body still hard, filling her. "I'm done," he said simply as he withdrew from her. Puck sat up on the edge of the bed as he pulled his clothes on. "Eight years Quinn," he whispered, dropping his shirt to his lap instead of pulling it over his head. "It's been eight years since high school and I'm still just your fall back guy."

Quinn closed her eyes against the tears she could feel building up. She turned over to reach out to him. "Please don't," Quinn begged, "don't abandon me. Not like everyone else. You're the only one who's always been there," she whispered.

Puck turned to look over his shoulder at her, at the pathetic figure she had become. "I can't Quinn," he repeated. "I have to move on, get a life, find myself a wife, have a family," he listed. "I can't do that if all I'm doing is waiting round to be your booty call when your life falls apart again. I love you Quinn but I'm done with this," Puck sighed as he stood and finished dressing. He bent over Quinn, still laid miserably in her bed and kissed her lingeringly. He straightened just slightly, his thumb stroked her lip. "See ya," he whispered as he let himself out of her apartment.

In his car, Puck slumped over the steering wheel for a long time before he could force himself to make a move. With every fibre of his being he wanted to go back inside and apologise, tell Quinn it didn't matter, he'd be there for her no matter what, even if it was only to pick up the pieces when her latest preppy, college educated dickhead failed to live up to her and her mother's exacting standards. But he couldn't. He had to be brutal, a clean break. He had to think about himself for once. Think about his own future. And it didn't include Quinn. She would never be his, not properly his, not like he needed her to be.

Finn called to see Puck at home three days later. "Quinn's fucked up again I see," was his opening statement. "What happened?"

"Rachel tell you that or did you figure it out for yourself?" Puck asked, delaying when he would tell his friend to fuck off and mind his own business.

"Figured it out for myself," Finn said proudly. His smile fell a little. "Apparently Sherlock, or whatever his name was turned out not to be the marrying kind," he said, his gaze trained on Puck to spot any kind of response. "You already knew," Finn accused. "S'up?" he asked, "did she already call you to come round and 'make her feel better'?"

"Sherman and yes, she called," Puck admitted. "And I went. As fucking usual," he laughed, mocking himself. "Puck the Mercy Fuck, that ought to be my name," he mocked himself again. "When am I going to learn? She's never going to choose me. Ever. All I'm ever going to be is the guy who can give her what she wants to make her feel better when she's chased off yet another prick who actually meets her mothers standards," Puck shook his head and took another gulp of his JD. "I have a song idea we need to work into the set on Friday night. Think we can do it?" he asked, changing the subject abruptly. "We might not sing it, it just depends but I want to be able to pull it out if it's needed."

"How much of that bottle have you drunk tonight?" Finn asked, "'cos you are making no sense at all. But a song, we can do that, just tell me what it is and we'll fit it into rehearsal tomorrow," he said as he stood up to leave.

In Finn's basement, the band gathered for rehearsal. They had a regular gig on Friday nights at a club in downtown Lima and had frequent bookings all over Ohio. They were still hoping to make it big some day although each of them had secretly accepted that they would only ever be small time, not that they would admit that to each other, that would be like saying goodbye to a dream. Finn still played drums with Puck and Sam on guitar, Artie on bass. Puck took front and did most of the vocals. Blaine was their sound and light man. Puck explained exactly what he wanted but it depended on the audience. They all had to keep their eyes open, see who came into the club.

"That is a cool number, Puckerman," Finn nodded once they'd run through it a couple of times. "I take it we're singing that one if a certain ex cheerleader turns up with my wife, am I right?" he asked.

"Yeah," Puck sighed, his arm resting on his guitar. "If she doesn't turn up, it'll keep."

"Rachel might have to invite her then," Finn stood and patted Puck's shoulder. "I think you need to say this, it's time to move on."

Puck agreed, even though the thought of never seeing her again filled him with dread. He had to stop being her 'beck and call' guy. He had to get himself a life. Without her.

"Rachel," groaned Quinn as she was tugged through the door of the noisy, dark club on Friday night. "I really don't feel in the mood for this tonight," she said in a whiny tone.

"I don't care," Rachel replied firmly. "We're here now and I'm going to watch my husband and his band play then I'm going to get drunk, take him home and blow his mind," she finished with a huge smile on her face.

"That was a little more information than I'm comfortable at processing," Quinn told Rachel, shaking her head. Rachel was not ready to take 'no' for an answer. "Fine," Quinn agreed, sulking. She allowed herself to be pulled in to the club, seated and magically a drink appeared in front of her.

Quinn could not deny that she had enjoyed the evening. The guys were still really, really good. Puck was excellent. Energetic, vocally brilliant, hot to look at and…how much had she had to drink? Better make the next one a water, Quinn thought to herself.

"Thank you," Puck called into the microphone. "This is the last song of the night," he looked around at the rest of the guys and nodded. "This is to one person in the room tonight," he said as he waved across the whole of the audience. "When you hear it, you'll know who you are," he grinned. Finn counted them in.

"Like a moth into a flame
I'm hypnotized
And like a stone
I'm paralyzed
'Cause I can't look away
You found your way under my skin
Trying not to love you
But I hate the way I keep on giving

In to you
Like I always do
No matter how I try
Or maybe could it be
That you're the part of me
That's keeping me alive

How am I supposed to break this spell
You got me under
I'm so addicted to the pain
I got your poison running through my veins
The way you pull me in
The way you chew me up
The way you spit me out
I keep coming back
I can't get enough
I can't go without you

I could fight you till the end
But I would lose you
If I win
So I guess I'll just keep on giving

In to you
Like I always do
No matter how I try
Or maybe could it be
You're the part of me
That's keeping me alive

This feeling is far from sober
There's beauty buried deep inside
You're the only one who gets me high
And I know it's far from over
As you can see
You're the part of me
That's keeping me alive

The way you pull me in
The way you chew me up
The way you spit me out
I keep coming back
I can't get enough
I can't go without

I keep coming back
I can't get enough
I can't go without you"

As he hit the last note Blaine hit the lights plunging the room into total darkness, at the exact same instant he had lit two spotlights, one trained on Quinn, the other on Puck. They stared at each other across the club, Puck was holding the microphone on the stand in front of him, breathing heavily, Quinn looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights. She jumped up and fled. Puck jumped off the stage and followed her. He was faster, sober, he caught Quinn at the door.

"Do you get it now?" Puck asked, "I'm addicted to you, I'd have to go into rehab to ever be free of you, but I won't just be your back up anymore. It's all or nothing," he said harshly before he let go of her arm. "You know how to reach me when you make up your mind, but be sure, because this is the last time you get this offer," he stared for a moment longer before he turned and left her at the door.

Quinn stood frozen in the doorway, her hand at her mouth, her eyes wide, just a breath away from sobbing. She watched Puck's retreating back. How would she go through the rest of her whole life and not see him again, could she do it? Possibly. Would she attend the reunions and the weddings of their other friends if she couldn't be with Puck? Probably. Could she survive if she never had him in her arms, in her bed again? Yes. Would it be living? No, it wouldn't even be close, it would be merely existing.

Quinn caught a cab back to her apartment. She managed to contain the tears until she closed the door behind her. She slid down it till she was sat on the floor, head on her knees, a blubbering mess. She took her phone from her purse. By touch alone she pressed number 1 on her speed dial.

In the dressing room at the club Puck was still beating himself up. The other guys were trying to give him pep talks, moral support. Rachel, Mercedes and Tina were making a good effort at boosting his flagging ego.

"You're right," Rachel insisted, rubbing Puck's shoulder as he sat astride a chair, his head down on his arms that were folded on the chair's back. "She can't keep using you this way. You have to move on. You deserve a life too. And your mother keeps asking me if you've found a good Jewish girl to settle down with," she laughed slightly as Puck looked up at her with his sad puppy dog eyes.

"Thanks Rach," Puck said quietly. "And if you can just keep fobbing my mother off it would be greatly appreciated," he sighed. "God," he cried, his head crashing back onto his arms. "I am such a fucking idiot," he grunted as he carried on banging his head. "Eight fucking years. Ten if you count from sophomore year. You'd think I'd have learned by now. What a fucking tool," he mocked himself. "And you all let me do it. Why didn't you stop me? Argh," he grunted again as he stood up, pushing the chair away. "That's it. Fuck it. I'm going to Koolers," he named the nightclub just a few blocks away, "I'm going to get trashed and I'm going to get laid. Lock up your women, Puckasaurus the sex shark is back," the determination in his voice was clear. The group of friends all looked at each other worriedly as Puck slammed out of the dressing room.

As Puck walked the short distance to the nightclub, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. His pace slowed a touch. He thought about ignoring it, he thought about launching his phone as far away as he could throw it, but he didn't. It could be his sister telling him their mother had taken a turn for the worse, she'd been ill a long time but she was getting close to the end. He checked the screen and his footsteps faltered.

"What?" he answered abruptly.

"I can't break the spell either," came Quinn's tearful, whispered reply. "It was never that they didn't meet my mother's expectations or mine," she explained, still trying to keep it together, "it was always that they couldn't live up to you."

"I'm on my way," he said before ending the call. Puck was glad she couldn't see his self-satisfied smile when he'd heard her words. Fuck rehab. To live with this addiction would be way better than to try to exist without it.