Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, sadly. Or Glee.

Warning: This story involves talks of kidnapping, murder and insanity, amongst other things.

Notes: This was a requested fanfic by iloveyouless. This story will most likely delve into the psychology behind the characters' actions. The characters are quite ooc for now but when we start digging into their lives you'll start to recognize some of their canon personality traits.

Instincts

"God forgive me if I do wrong in following with

ardor the strongest instincts of my nature".

-Julia Ward Howe-

.

The last thing Sam Evans saw was the faint outline of a mohawked man before he lost consciousness. Even as he stirred, three hours later, he couldn't quite remember what had happened for him to merit the attack. He had been taking a midnight stroll in town after an argument with his soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend when a noise had caught his attention. It was coming from a dark alley. He'd only glanced in that direction before he felt the sharp blow to his head.

Sam opened his eyes slowly, adjusting to the light that filled the room. His head hurt. So much. It wasn't long before he realized he was tied down to a chair and his mouth was covered in tape. He scanned the room, taking in his surroundings. It was small, with no windows. Beside him was a bed, the kind you found in psychiatric wards. The walls were a pale pink and bare of decorations. There was even a small bedside table beside the bed. For a moment he wondered if this was a sick joke or worse, his girlfriend's revenge. She had a mean streak and lord knows she was capable of playing dirty. They had never been a serious couple, seeing as Sam could never have imagined himself walking down the aisle with her. Not because she was slightly crazy, no, that never really bothered him. He figured if he really loved someone, he'd work around their flaws. There lay the problem. He never loved Quinn. He had admired her beauty, her intelligence and her determination but he had never loved her. Which, he mused, she should not have been upset about because she had never loved him either. They barely tolerated each other. When they were upset enough to get into an argument, she would seek solace in one of his best-friend's bed. He knew it. What he also knew was that she loved him. Sam had asked himself a million times why she chose to stay with the man who made her unhappy as opposed to the man who had her heart. He knew his reasons for staying; habit. Toss that in with the fact that he sucked at ending relationships and he was a coward. Even in the worst times, he had stayed faithful, though she hadn't. But no matter how unhappy they had been together, Sam could not help but feel pity for the woman who shared his home. Unless, of course, she was the reason behind this bullshit. Then, he'd have her arrested and her reputation destroyed.

A few minutes later, a woman opened the bedroom door and walked in, followed by a broad-shouldered man sporting mohawk. Sam groaned, recognizing his attacker. His head couldn't take any more pain. It already hurt too much. The woman was short and curvy. Her skin was dark and flawless. She would have looked very pretty and sweet, if her dark eyes hadn't been so dead. Instead, he could have easily compared her to a dark ice queen; beautiful, unattainable and cold, oozing power and pride. Sam had never felt so insignificant and she hadn't spoken yet. She wore a dark blue dress that was way to fancy in contrast to the room. The man behind her, however, was dressed in casual, dirty clothes.

"This is ridiculous." said the woman, staring at Sam. On her face was an expression of disgust. "What the hell am I supposed to do with him, Puck?" she turned to the man and crossed her arms.

"I don't know!" answered Puck, running a nervous hand through his hair. "We need to make him forget! Obliviate!"

"We aren't British, Puck!" she yelled. "And we sure as hell aren't wizards. Forget about Hogwarts and be serious. What are we supposed to do with this?"

"I don't know why we can't just kill him, 'Cedes." said a Latina, walking into the room. She to was dressed fancy; a red dress that clung to her body. Sam noticed she wore diamonds on her ears, around her neck and on her wrists. "I'm sure Apollo could make good use of him."

The woman known as 'Cedes glared at her. "He's on a diet. You know this, Santana." Sam paled at the mention of a diet. Did they really want to feed him to something or someone? "Besides, this should have never happened in the first place."

"Look, what's the big deal? We get rid of people all the time." Santana rolled her eyes.

"Not like this Santana. We have rules."

"Rules, shmules. Why can't we spice things up a bit? Change our tune? Look at him. He's begging to to let us have our fun." Santana licked her lips as she looked him over. Her eyes were filled with malice and what Sam recognized as hunger.

"Tana, no." said 'Cedes firmly. "The only reason we got this far is because we've been careful. That," she pointed Sam. "is not careful. Puck, you're a mess. Go, relax somewhere. I'll deal with this."

Puck nodded. "I'm sorry, I was careless."

"Noah," 'Cedes softened. "It was a mistake. One we were bound to make at some point. Let's just consider this a lesson learned, okay?"

"Yeah." he nodded again, though he looked anything but convinced.

"Oh, please. Stop babying him." Santana rolled her eyes. "Get your shit together, Puck. I need my bad-ass back. You messed up. Get over it. 'Retha, here'll fix it for us. Now, If you'll excuse me, I have company waiting in my bedroom." She gave Sam a wink before pulling Puck out of the room.

Once they were alone, Mercedes sat on the large sofa in front of him and sighed. She seemed normal enough, except Sam knew she wasn't. No normal person would kidnap someone and talk about killing them or feeding them to something. It was wrong. But she was the one who frightened him the less out of the trio. This wasn't Quinn's doing, of that her was now certain.

"My brother's pretty shaken. We don't usually make mistakes." she started slowly. "and my sister, well let's just say she would love to paint the walls with your blood."

Sam paled. What on earth had he done to deserve this shit? He promised himself that if he ever got out of there alive, he'd run the hell away from this town and never look back.

"As for myself..." she smiled. "I'm not sure what to do with you. One option would be to kill you right now, but who knows when you may come in handy? Have you ever heard the saying curiosity 'killed the cat'?"

Sam nodded. At least while she was talking, he was safe.

"Next time you hear a scream in a dark alley, or the sound of a gunshot- leave. Run and never look back. Well, that's if you ever get out of here." she added as an after thought. "I really hate witnesses. They make everything so complicated."

Please don't kill me, thought Sam desperately. He still had no idea why he was there. What had he witnessed? He couldn't even remember. There was no use telling her that. Not only was his mouth taped shut, but she would never believe him.

"It must be very uncomfortable to be tied to that old chair," She smiled, though her eyes were dark and void of emotions. "I'll untie you. Don't do anything stupid or your life ends now. Are we clear?"

Sam nodded quickly. He wanted nothing more than to stand and stretch his legs. He wasn't even going to try to run, the thought had never crossed his mind. This woman and what she referred to as her siblings were insane. If he wanted to get out of there alive, he'd have to be smart and calculating. She moved to him and cut the ropes with a small dagger and ripped the tape off his mouth. It took everything he had not to swear in agony.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" she asked, amused.

"You have no idea," he mumbled. Sam took a deep breath. "Where am I?"

She cocked her head to the side, considering him. He was afraid he had asked the wrong question but she smiled. "You're in Marshall House, sweetie."

Sam felt the blood drain from his face. Marshall House was situated just outside Lima. It was a big house, not quite a mansion but close. It must have once been quite beautiful, nestled in the trees, with it's Greek revival architecture. But ever since tragedy had struck the household in 1895, it had been empty. For as long as Sam could remember, everyone had thought it haunted. It was just one of those place people knew about, but never spoke of. The few that did often called it the 'hellmouth'. Though he couldn't understand how they could be in that house if everything was renovated and said as much. When you drove past Marshall House, or stood at the gate, it didn't look pleasant. It looked unkempt, with it's wild gardens and dirty windows. No one would ever assume someone lived in it, and yet there was 'Cedes, saying that's exactly where they were. It terrified him.

"The house scares you." she said, noticing his fear. "It shouldn't."

"This place is haunted."

"This place is my home." she corrected. "You'd be surprised how long this place has been occupied. We've used everyone's fear to our advantage. My siblings and I are at peace here."

"But people come here and never get out alive." Sam willed himself to calm down. He was a grown man, he shouldn't be afraid of a house or ghosts.

"Very true." 'Cedes smiled again. "It's funny how irrational people can be when they're afraid. I wonder, what makes more sense? A house killing people or people killing people? There's enough evil in the world without making up monsters, Samuel."

The way she said his name sent shivers down his spine. How did she know his name? "What are you going to do with me? Aren't you scared I could call someone and tell them where I am?" But who would he call? Artie? Quinn? Mike? His parents?

She laughed, a beautiful sound, yet it did nothing to calm him. "You'd be dead before you even tried. Besides, who would believe you? Would anyone be crazy enough to set foot on this property? Think about it, Sam. Years and years of fear pushed aside for... you? I don't think so."

She had a point. No one would believe him.

"As for dealing with you," she continued. "I'm going to let you live. For now. I'm certain I can put you to use." He wanted to scream with joy, to kiss her feet, to praise her. She might be insane, but she was the one keeping him alive.

"But listen to me clearly. There won't be any warnings." her voice was cold. "You put one toe out of line and I will bathe in your blood. Are we clear?"

"Crystal." Sam knew she was serious. There were no emotions in her eyes, just flat out conviction. She gave him a slight nod before turning. "Hey lady," She paused at the door. "Do you have a name?"

"Mercedes. You'd best get your sleep." She said, after a moment's hesitation, exited the room leaving him alone with his thoughts and fear. He didn't need to check the door to know she had locked him in the room. He was in hell and he needed out. Soon.

SMSMSMSMS

"He's cute." said Mercedes entering the kitchen. Puck sat on a stool at the counter and Santana was making herself tea. "You could have done worse." At least if they were keeping a hostage or whatever you called the man Puck had kidnapped, he was easy on the eyes.

"Except it was an accident, 'Cedes." Puck heaved a heavy sigh. "So, you're keeping him?"

"She'll make him her pet," said Santana, wiggling her brows. "Maybe her slave?"

"Well, if we're adding this to our long list of crimes, I want a slave to. A chick, though." Puck crossed his arms and stared at Mercedes intently. Mercedes rolled her eyes and sat on the stool next to him.

"No one is getting any slaves. That's wrong." How could she explain that despite her crimes slavery was one thing she wanted no part in. There was a big difference between using people as entertainment and using them as slaves, wasn't there? She couldn't be sure anymore. All she knew was that the word put her off. If anyone was going to work for her, they'd be paid a reasonable wage.

"And murder isn't?" scoffed Santana. "Puh-lease, Mercedes, since when have you been concerned with what's right or wrong? You're as twisted as I am."

"You're the reckless one, Tana. Not me."

"That's true." agreed Puck.

"We don't keep slaves, okay?" her voice was final. "I thought if we kept him long enough in isolation, we could brainwash the memory away from him, or something. I don't know. I'm doing my best. This was never supposed to happen."

Santana nodded. "Fair enough. Have you locked him in the center room?"

"Yeah, he'll stay there for now."

"'Cedes, why can't we just pay him to shut up? We have the money." asked Puck.

Mercedes nearly smiled. He felt so bad for having messed up. He was like a child. "Not everyone can be bought. You didn't relax did you? I can see it in your eyes. Go to bed." she kissed his cheek. "And forgive yourself."

When Puck was gone, Santana took his seat. The tea lay forgotten on the counter. "Tell me the real reason why you don't want to kill him." Mercedes opened her mouth to deny it, but Santana cut her off. "Don't. I know you. Tell me what's up."

"He's intriguing." replied Mercedes. "He reminds me of us before everything happened. Before we got crazy. We can learn from him."

"Normalcy is over-rated." said Santana. "Why would you want to be like them? We're capable, strong, cunning. We win. We've been winning for years now."

"But don't you think it's weird that the only time we feel needed is when we watch these people take their last breaths? Or how we go out of our way to make people suffer so that we can feel anything?" Mercedes shook her head. "We aren't human anymore, Tana. Maybe our bodies are but we don't have humanity. That's gone. I can't even regret everything we've done because I enjoyed it too much. And in some weird twisted way of fate, we ended up richer than half the people in Lima. What does that say about us?"

"It says that we're people who did the best they could with what was given to them." answered Santana. Her voice wavered, a sure sign that Mercedes' words had touched her. "We're survivors, Mercedes, even if that makes us monsters. But if you're convinced keeping this man will somehow fix us, then by all means keep him. Just... don't lose yourself in that dream. You keep us grounded amidst the insanity."

Mercedes nodded and felt Santana squeeze her shoulder.

"And that's not true." added Santana.

"What's not true?"

"Those aren't the only times we feel. When you or Puck get hurt, I feel the pain too and I'm happy when you're happy. You're my family, both of you. I think that's what people call love."

"Well then, I think I love you too." smiled Mercedes. "But Tana, if he tries to run away..." she met her sister's gaze. "Kill him."

Alors, what do you think? No? Yes?

We'll find out just what crimes Puck, Santana and Mercedes have committed over the past few years and why in the next few chapters. Oh, and we'll meet Apollo. He's a pet. Like, an actual pet. Not a person.

Reviews are lovely (: