Okay, so this is a slightly AU fic/future fic. Rachel's just returned to Lima after leaving seven years before. After running into her old boyfriend, she still feels the love she used to feel for him. But, when girls in town start turning up dead with their hair chopped off, Rachel starts looking into it, trying to figure out why these girls were killed while also coming to terms with the reason she returned to Lima in the first place.

Brittney Pierce drummed her fingers on the counter at the front of the local hardware store, desperate to leave. She'd been here since nine this morning and it was almost eight now.

"Brit?"

"Yes, Mr. Williams?" she asked, looking over at the kind face of her boss.

"I'm going to need you to close up tonight," he said, pulling on his coat as he did. "My wife just called and said she needed me home now. You can go ahead and start cleaning and restocking now so you can leave right at nine," he added. "Put everything from the registers in the safe along with the print outs of what should be in there. I'll go through it in the morning."

Even though Brittney had been working and William & Son's Hardware for the past three years, Mr. Williams, her boss, still felt the need to do everything his self. It wasn't that he didn't trust her, he was just a bit of a control freak (in Brittney's opinion, at least).

"Yes, sir," she said, nodding her head.

"Oh, and tell my son I promise this is the last night I'll keep you late this month," he added before walking out the door.

Brittney smiled a bit, looking down at the diamond ring on her left hand. Brittney and Brian Williams, the son of Williams & Son, had been engaged for over a year, now. They were due to be married in three weeks, and Brittney couldn't be more excited.

She walked away from the front, making a list of things that needed to be replaced as she thought of what else needed to be done for the wedding. She had her dress already, but she still needed another fitting along with all her bridesmaids.

Then there were the flowers, the music, and the cake. It was all so much to do in so little time.

She was hardly paying attention to what she was doing or what was going on in the store. If she had, she might have heard the door open and a pair of footsteps approaching her. But, since her mind was on wedding cake, she didn't.

A hard slam on the back of the head interrupted her thoughts. Brittney, thrown off balance from the hit, fell to the ground, blood trickling out of her head. She leaned up a bit, looking around and attempting to find the source of the attack.

She was pinned to the ground, a pair of hands circling her throat, cutting off her air supply.

She began gasping, but that soon stopped as well. Brittney's legs thrashed, the heel of her one shoe breaking on the ground as the other scuffed up the clean floor, leaving black marks in a haphazard pattern.

She struggled, fighting for her life. It was no use—her attacker was stronger than her. The person held her down, staring into her eyes as they watched the life drain out of them. She tried pulling the hands away from her throat, but they stayed there, crushing her windpipe. Brittney managed one scape across their face before her hand fell limp at her side, all life gone from her eyes.

She was dead.

The killer looked down at her, no sighs of remorse in their face. The look of terror was still etched on Brittney's lifeless face, her legs spread in a frantic position with both arms limp at her side.

The killer reached down, slipping the engagement ring off Brittney's finger and placing it in their pocket. They reached into their pocket, pulling out a small life.

Brittney's shirt was raised, exposing the pale, smooth skin on her stomach. That was disturbed a moment later as the knife was thrust in, the killer carving out a message.

Brittney, barely dead, began to bleed from the wounds, but the killer didn't seem to care. All they cared about was making a statement. And this, this was sure to get everyone's attention.

They admired their work, staring down at Brittney's stomach. The phrase 'dumb slut' was carved into her flesh.

There was just one more thing to do. Taking the knife, the killer hacked away at Brittney's long blonde hair, cutting most of it off. They took a little bit of it, placing it in their pocket while they left the rest of the cut strands scattered around her body.

xxxxx

Rain. That was always the sign of a bad day. As Rachel Berry parked her car next to an empty meter on the street, the dark storm clouds were forming and a few drops of water were beginning to fall from the sky.

She was back. For the first time in seven years, she was back in Lima, Ohio.

When she had left in the middle of the school year, there were lots of rumors surrounding her departure. Family death, private school, pregnant…the list went on. There were only a handful of people who knew the truth behind why she had left, and there were even less people who knew why she was returning now.

Rachel, now twenty-five and a writer for a lousy Philadelphia newspaper, had enjoyed the seven years out of Ohio. She'd moved in with an aunt in Maryland and lived there before attending a local college. She'd successfully escaped her past, turning her back to it and leaving it in Lima.

Though, apparently, her past had no intention of staying behind her for very long.

She'd never planned on going back—who ever does, after all. But it seemed God wanted her back there—or maybe it was karma who wanted her back there. Either way, she was going back.

The fresh pains of loss still plaguing her soul, Rachel climbed out of her car, locking the doors. She placed a few coins in the meter before walking into Carly's Pancake House. Even after all her time away, she still remembered it was the best place in town to get a cup of coffee.

Plus, she was trying to put off actually going home to her fathers' house for as long as possible.

Rachel walked into the shop, the jingle bells on top of the door ringing as she opened it. Every person sitting at a table turned to face her, and Rachel instantly regretted her decision to come back here. She could have stayed with her aunt or a friend or anyone, but she'd decided to come back to Ohio, to a place where she was sure people still talked about her.

She quietly got in line, ignoring the whispers that were echoing through the place. When she got to the front, she instantly recognized the girl taking the orders.

"Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in," Santana Lopez sneered, drumming her acrylic nails on the counter as she gave Rachel the once over.

Santana was thinner then when Rachel last saw her—unhealthy thin due to a coke addiction. She'd also lost the muscle she had from cheerleading.

"Hi, Santana," Rachel said politely, putting on a fake smile.

Santana didn't return the smile, crossing her arms over her chest as she continued to stare at Rachel. "What are you doing back here? I never thought you'd are show your face around here again."

"I never planned on it," Rachel muttered under her breath. "But I'm back for the moment. Now, I can't tell you how much I'd love to stand here and catch up," Rachel said sarcastically. "But I'm sure everyone else in line would like to order. So one coffee, cream, no sugar," she ordered.

Santana gave her a look of disdain before calling out the order and punching it into the cash register.

"One dollar," she sighed, snatching the bill from Rachel when she handed it to her. Rachel took the cup from her a moment later, walking over to an empty table and taking a seat, missing her home in Philadelphia already.

She didn't even know why she had left. Sure, what had happened there was god awful, but was it really worth leaving her comfy apartment and coming back home to be the subject of gossip all around town?

Yes. Yes it was. She knew she couldn't go back, not after what happened. And what she had done.

Rachel instinctively pulled at the sleeves of her sweater, pulling them over her hands as if she were cold. She wasn't going to think about Philadelphia anymore, she promised herself. She was going to forget all about what happened there. She'd only think of the future from now on.

Rachel was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't realize someone was sitting next to her until she heard the squeak of the chair legs dragging on the floor.

She looked up, spotting yet another familiar face, though this one was even less welcome than Santana. Deep chocolate eyes, a crooked smile, tan and muscular arms from spending all day outside working.

It was the boy she had once fallen in love with.

Rachel was panicking inside. She'd worked so hard to escape from him, so hard to forget him. Yet here he was, looking at her the same way he had looked at her back when she was sixteen.

"Hello, Rachel," he said, his deep voice causing her heart to beat in overdrive.

"Hello, Noah."

xxxxx

Rachel's back was pressed against the door of Noah's apartment, her hands pinned above her head as his lips attacked her throat. How they had gone from a small chat at the Pancake House to his apartment in a matter of an hour was unknown to her, but she wasn't complaining.

Noah had always been good at getting her into his bed.

A key was thrust into the door and Noah pushed her into his apartment, his arms wrapped around her small body. He kicked the door shut, already tearing her clothes off.

"God Rachel, I've missed you so much," he growled into her ear, lifting her into his arms and carrying her over to his bed, lying her down gently.

Rachel reached down, pulling her shirt off and tossed it onto the floor. "This would probably be the right time to tell me if you're married or not," she murmured as she kissed up his face, eventually finding his lips again.

"Single as ever, baby," he promised, ripping her skirt off with one pull.

"I forgot how strong you were," she said, looking down at the torn fragments of her skirt.

"I'll be gentle, I promise," he whispered into her ear before starting to kiss down her chest. His hands grazed over her breasts, still concealed by her white cotton bra.

Rachel's hands pulled at his shirt, attempting to pull it over his head while he continued kissing her. Noah leaned back for a moment, helping Rachel pull his shirt off before throwing it to the ground next to hers. His lips were back on her a moment later.

Rachel wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer to her. All the memories from high school were coming back now. Late nights sneaking out, hook ups in the back of Noah's truck, a stick with two pink lines, running away from town without even saying goodbye…

She'd never even told him why she was leaving, or that she was leaving. She just left. She never called him; she just tried to forget he ever existed. And yet, here they were like no time had ever passed.

The bracelets on Rachel's wrist jingled as Noah pressed her arms to the mattress as he had at the door.

Noah wanted to press her for information, to find out why she had left the way she did and why she was back now. But that could wait. Right now, he really just needed her.

The ringing of a cellphone interrupted them. Noah let out a few choice words as he climbed of Rachel, his pants unbuttoned at this point.

"I swear, someone better be dead," he muttered, grabbing his phone off the counter and pressed it to his ear. "Sheriff Puckerman," he snapped into the phone. Rachel rolled onto her stomach, pulling his blanket over her body as she looked around his apartment. It was small and messy, but it was Noah. It fit him.

She rolled onto her back and smiled as she looked at the ceiling. He still had the stars taped above his bed like he used to.

"I like to pretend I'm an astronaut and in space," he used to tell her as they lay in his bed late at night. She used to sneak over to his house after her dads and his mom were asleep. With his job and her in Glee club, it used to be the only time they could spend together outside of school.

He still had the same ugly green comforter on his bed that he used to. At least it was warm. She laid her head on his pillow and smiled. It smelled like him—well, what she remembered he smelled like, at least. Rachel used to love sleeping with her face next to the side of his head.

"Baby, what are you doing?" Noah used to say.

"I like the way you smell. I want to fall asleep smelling you so I know you're here with me," she would always respond.

"No, don't do anything," Noah was shouting into the phone, buckling his pants as he did so. "I'll meet you at the station. I want you to call in every available officer. We're going to canvas the whole damn town if we have to." He hung up the phone, shoving it into his pocket.

Noah walked over to his closet, pulling out a shirt and pulled it on, buttoning it up before sitting on the side of the bed, slipping his shoes on.

"Rachel, please don't get mad, but I have to go. You're welcome to stay here until I get back," he said, looking over at her.

Concern crossed Rachel's face as she crawled over to him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she kissed his cheek. "What's wrong?"

"Brian Williams called the station not that long ago, saying his fiancée never came home last night. One of our officers went over to the store where she works and found a pool of blood on the floor along with hair. The fiancée wasn't there. We need to find her. If there's a chance she's still alive, she won't be for long—not with all the blood she lost."

"So you have to go look for her?" Rachel asked.

Noah nodded his head. "It's my job. I'll be back later, I promise," he said, leaning down and kissing her once on the lips.

Rachel shook her head. "No, I'm coming to help," she declared, climbing out of bed before gathering up her clothes. The skirt was no good, but she still had her shirt and sweater.

"Here," Noah said, tossing her a pair of jeans that looked like they would fit—though they'd be a bit long and wide. "They're Becca's. She's always leaving her stuff here when she decides to stay here instead of home," he said, referring to his sister.

Rachel nodded, slipping the jeans on before grabbing her shoes and pulled them on as well. "Who's the girl we're looking for?" she asked as she pulled her hair back.

Noah sighed, looking over at her.

"Brittney."

Like it? Hate it? Please review! Also, I'm still working on my other story, I promise.