AN: This is an AU fic, ye be warned, in which the faculty is being forced into taking action on the bullying at WMHS. Accept they don't go about it in a normal way, though at WMHS this may be as close as they would ever get. The characters are going to be slightly OOC, but I hope to retain vital characteristics obviously. And because of it's AU nature the kids are just going to act different than they would have if life had gone as it did in the show. Mainly my point is I knooooowww it may take some getting used to. I just hope it's enjoyable, we're just here to have some fun, right? Right. Onward!

Pulling up in front of the ancient brick building exactly three months and four days since the last time she had set foot on the premises was, in her opinion, much worse than it had been the first time. She had been told by her fathers that first day of her freshmen year of high school that it was all straightforward from that moment; that it just may be the most nerve wracking experience in her entire life, but compared to the feelings ravaging her on the first day of her sophomore year it was laughable—and last year she had only made it halfway through the first day before vomiting.

"It's not too late to allow me to homeschool myself you know," Rachel Berry grumbled while looping her backpack over a shoulder. The two men in the front seats of the SUV smiled at her encouragingly.

"Rachel, we know last year was difficult for you," one said. All Rachel could think was, no, in fact, they did not; because while Rachel had told them enough to hint at how horrid it was she had kept quiet for the most part, because she was just that mortified. She wanted to be coddled a little maybe, but she had absolutely no desire to be pitied.

"But we believe that high school is an irreplaceable life experience," the other continued. "And if you are going to be able to make even just one of your dreams come true then you will need an actual high school to list on resumes."

"Is that why you're forcing me to join clubs?" Rachel snapped. "Even though I told you how miserable that would make me? Even though there isn't a proper music program in the whole school?"

"There is a glee club, Sweetie," they corrected. "We called the school yesterday to confirm that."

"The director is a pedophile!" Rachel protested, yanking on the door handle and shoving it open.

"Important life experience!" they yelled at her back as she marched into the school with her head down.

"Yeah, uh huh, I'm sure consorting with a known pedophile is the exact life experience that I'll regret having," she mumbled under her breath.

She had her head down, hiding behind her hair, as she tried to navigate her way to her locker without running into anyone who she didn't want to see, which, she'd admit, was virtually everyone. The halls were crowded with teenagers greeting each other enthusiastically after having spent the summer hanging out with the exact people they were practically sexually harassing in their excitement.

Rachel rolled her eyes and scoffed, her head finally lifting several feet before she would reach her locker, deciding that this year would be different. She was the one who would decide how others affected her, and if she had been strong enough to never back down last year, she told herself, this year would be mediocre in the long run. She knew what was coming, so she decided to march to her inevitable fate with her head held high and the same disdainfully, superior, holier than thou look she had spent the past three months and four days perfecting firmly in place.

Her hand reached out to turn the combination on her lock as she swiped her eyes flippantly down the hallway, seeing no one she found the least bit threatening, her lips spread in a confident smile. And then, just before she clicked the last number into place her eyes caught sight of the distinctive swagger of the only boy at William McKinley that intimidated even other jocks and most teachers into crowning him untouchable, legendary, Puck.

And, yes, students, teachers, and administrators alike called Noah Puckerman nothing except Puck. He had long ago risen above the standards other students were held to, and did whatever he wanted, and no one said anything about it. Because he was terrifying in that dangerous, evil genius, I'll get you fired or ostracized quicker than you can say, "I'm so, so sorry, I didn't mean to run into you, let me help you pick that up. By the way, my name is Rachel Berry."

Looking back Rachel thinks it was her introducing herself with the obvious obliviousness to who he was that had rubbed him the wrong way that first day. If it had been anyone other than the junior, star left tackle, Puck then she thinks her high school existence would be just as normally miserable as the average teenager, instead of being unrightfully targeted by everyone. And she did mean everyone; the rest of the school had created her a personalized rung at the very bottom of the social ladder for her very own.

Watching him and the rest of the football team walk through the highway was a lot like what she imagined it would have been like watching Moses part the Red Sea. All they had to do was show up, and people jumped and shoved to get out of their way. His eyes landed on her almost immediately. It didn't matter that she was tiny, he could spot her from across the lunchroom, as she walked by outside. It was like she had a built in signal that he could hone in on no matter how many people or walls separated them. She suspected it made it all the easier for him to hurl slushies at her face.

He was nearly a foot taller than her, broad and built like it was his purpose in life to tackle others over the possession of an insignificant and oddly shaped ball. His eyes were hazel, but most days they were more green than brown, which Rachel knows because she spends a ludicrous amount of time trying very hard to know how likely it is that he's going to fling a frozen beverage on her based solely on his mood, and not because she finds him and his ridiculous Mohawk at all attractive. His eyes are incredibly expressive, though she doesn't think he is aware of the fact, because he likes to stomp around looking impervious to everything.

His eyes, today golden-brown, linger on her before he pulls them away while chuckling at something Finn Hudson, his dopey overgrown quarterback friend, said. Rachel sighed. He was tired and looked mellow, which meant that she was safe and maybe that he was high. She wasn't sure, because she thought he had stopped with the drugs around the time last year when scouts started showing up at games and calling about him. She wouldn't complain if he had taken the hobby back up though, because she rarely ever had slushies thrown at her when he was blitzed since he was either too subdued to bother or just decided to actually drink them halfway through the walk to find her.

She preferred him high, she decided as he walked by. Her only fond memory from last year was of him, sky high and doped out of his mind. She had been hiding from him in the abandoned section of the library during her lunch period when he had sauntered over to where she was sitting in a ratty, long forgotten arm chair looking over sheet music and humming, and sprawled onto the chair beside her, slushy in hand.

She had flinched away from him and had even covered her face with her papers waiting for him to dump the drink on her. She had stayed that way until she heard him chuckle and sip loudly at the last of the giant drink. Lowering the papers slowly and peaking at him from over the tops she had glowered at him. Which had only caused him to chuckle at her some more. He had just set the cup down on the floor and slouched down more comfortably in the seat.

"What are you doing?" she had asked him as quietly as possible, fearing that if she spooked him he'd start in on some kind of horrid verbal insult like what she got from the Cheerios.

"Chillin' here," he had murmured. "What are you doing?"

"I was reading sheet music," she had told him, pinching herself to make sure she was awake.

"You were hiding from me," he then told her, knowing he was right.

"Of course I was," she had snapped back at him.

"You don't have to," he had said, laying his head back and staring at her.

"Of course I do," she groused at that. Then she had rolled her eyes, right in his face, which is still to this day the closest she had ever gotten to standing up to him.

"Nah, I can find you either way," he'd said. "I've got this stupid fuckin' Rachel Berry sixth sense. Mostly it's useless and annoying. Like I need to be able to find you at the drop of a hat, or know you're upset or somethin'. Fuckin' goddam ridiculous."

"Excuse me?" she'd demanded.

He had just shook his head and asked her about her music. Then he had proceeded to have a civil and pleasurable conversation with her.

"Do me a favor, would ya?" he had requested right before the bell had rung out signaling the next period. "Change your clothes and pretend I threw my drink on you."

"That is just absurd!" she had shrieked.

He had shrugged his shoulders, ran a hand over his mohawk and then ambled out of the library at a leisurely pace. Rachel, for her part, had changed her clothes and spent the rest of the day pretending to be upset about the non-slushy-ing when the rest of the jocks or the Cheerios had asked her if she was feeling refreshed.

Rachel slammed her locker and headed off to her first period class, ignoring the jabs and insults coming her way. She knew if Puck wasn't out for her today all she had to look out for were the Cheerios, and they tended to ignore her until she did something to set them off, like talk or make a friend.

The rest of the day had been fairly uneventful for Rachel. She had heard throughout the day that it hadn't been that way for everyone, however. Kurt Hummel had apparently not been let out of his weekly dumpster session, and she thought she had heard someone say that Artie Abrams had been locked in a portable toilet. And while she had been spared of the slushy facial, not everyone on their normal list had been as fruitful.

Thinking back on the day as she dutifully filed into the gymnasium for the last half of the final period of the day for an abruptly called school wide assembly, Rachel concluded this was the best day she could have possibly hoped for. She had even managed to get that creepy pedophile Sandy fired, and she hadn't even had to lie. She would admit that she had exaggerated quite a bit, but if her fathers were going to force her into participation, the fact that she wanted nothing more than to be in an amazing glee club that would help her on her way to Broadway aside, she refused to do it with an untalented sexual predator in the same room.

Rachel found a seat in the middle of a cluster of Audio Video kids and smiled at them in thanks for allowing her to sit with them, or more like near them. But they didn't move away like a lot of other people would have done, so she established again that this was a win. Teachers stood in a line in the center of the gym on either side of where Principal Figgins was with a microphone and a large glass bowl filled with slips of paper. To his left was cheerleading coach Sue Sylvester and to his right was Spanish teacher Mr. Schuester, each of them looked like they weren't sure how they felt about the current goings on. Coach Sylvester looked like she did when she learned there was a trophy out there that she hadn't actually won yet, and Mr. Schuester, well he looked nervous but proud.

"Oh my God," the girl sitting next to her groaned, "We're being reaped."

"What?" Rachel asked. She looked over at her and was bemused by the look of genuine terror on the girl's face.

"They're going to make us fight to the death," she explained. "Like in that movie."

"That's nonsensical," Rachel replied. Then she turned to face Mr. Figgins as he tapped on the mic.

"Students, children, settle down," he began. "It has been brought to my attention that William McKinley has developed a severe bullying problem, and that because of this we will be losing a large chunk of our funding. In order to rectify this situation, and so that we can continue to offer running water, we have come up with a solution. Ms. Pillsbury, if you would please explain."

Then he and his giant fish bowl stepped to the side so the guidance counselor could step up. She looked up at the rows of teenagers and smiled in a finicky way.

"H-hello," she said, jumping at the projected sound of her own voice. "We have decided that the best way to go about fixing the bullying problem here at McKinley is to take a proactive stance. We are going to begin by strengthening the relationships among all of you. How are we going to do this you ask?"

Here she paused to see if people were agreeing that they were, indeed, asking. Someone yelled out an uninspired comment about her lack of a soul. So she continued, seemingly just more enthusiastic.

"We will be selecting twenty-four of you at random to join two teams of twelve. These teams will be headed by Coach Sue and Mr. Schuester and will engage in a yearlong competition. The point of this competition is to provide a model for the rest of the school of diverse and amicable relationships and to prove to you all that you need to work together and learn to respect one another in order to obtain a goal. Each week the advisor will assign their team a task and the judging panel, which includes Principal Figgins, Coach Beiste, and myself, will determine who has won. At the end of the school year the team who has won the most of the challenges will be exempt from all finals and will receive letters of recommendation for any prospective colleges they are applying to."

At the end of her speech all the teachers smiled and clapped, looking like they'd managed to cure cancer or end world hunger. Rachel felt like this might be the second year in a row that she'd vomit on the first day of school. Luckily, she assured herself, there were hundreds of students and the possibility that she would be chosen was very small.

"I will select names randomly from this bowl," Figgins was now saying. "And if your name is called join your advisor and teammates."

He indicated to Coach Sue and Mr. Schuester who now stood slightly ahead of him and further apart. Rachel regretted not pulling out all the stops over the whole homeschooling thing.

"First twelve will join Mr. Schuester," Figgins said, his hand swirling around in the bowl of names.

And Rachel realized, they were being reaped, and it might actually have been a more appealing event if they were indeed going to be fighting to the death. Because, Rachel feared, the emotional turmoil this was going to create would be worse than a quick and decisive death at the hands of deranged Cheerios. Rachel had no doubt about that.

She wasn't the only student who looked terrorized by the mere thought of being chosen, and she could see people trying to slip out of the room, probably with the hope that if they weren't here to hear their names they would be replaced. Others though, looked like they were being hand delivered their dying wish upon the wings of baby angles who were accompanied by singing telegrams.

"Our first member of Team Schuester is," Figgins began before taking a dramatic pause. Rachel considered throwing her shoe at him. "Kurt Hummel!"

Kurt was sitting several rows ahead of Rachel, so she was able to watch him rise slowly and walk to the front of the room. Kurt was the only openly gay kid at McKinley, who Rachel secretly craved nothing more than to be friends with. She knew they had tons of things in common and she knew he liked to sing as much as she did. But she had never approached him, knowing that he was dealing with enough bullying of his own without adding bullying for being Rachel Berry's friend to reasons to bully Kurt. He looked just about how Rachel felt; like he was considering homeschooling.

As Kurt shook hands with Mr. Schuester Figgins called the next name.

"Santana Lopez!"

Santana came bounding down from somewhere above Rachel, her high pony tail and Cheerio skirt bouncing around her. She looked like she couldn't care any less. She walked straight up to the principal and demanded to be moved to Coach Sue's team. Figgins refused her and the towering, angry coach and sent her on her way to Mr. Schuester. She refused his hand and stood as far away from them as she deemed acceptable.

"Finn Hudson!" Figgins called, glaring over at Santana.

The tall, fumbling quarterback, jogged down the stairs. He looked faintly like he wasn't sure why his name had been called. He shook hands with Mr. Schuester and Kurt before standing next to Santana, who looked like she wished he hadn't.

"Artie Abrams!"

The wheelchair bound boy wheeled over from his place at the edge of the room, looking very resigned to his fate and took his place beside Kurt.

"Brittany S. Pierce!"

A blonde Cheerio followed Santana's path down the bleachers and skipped right over to her, smiling broadly. Rachel was positive the girl had no idea what was happening.

"Blain Anderson!" Figgins called, his glare at Santana lessening as she seemed appeased by Brittany's addition to her team.

Blain was new to their school this year, and Rachel felt really bad for him. He looked utterly confused as he took his place. He smiled at Kurt and began to whisper to the other boy. She guessed it was about the bullying as she watched his face go from confused to outraged to resigned.

"Mercedes Jones!"

A black girl who Rachel knew was in her grade walked confidently over to Mr. Schuester and shook his hand before standing between him and the two Cheerios and Finn. Rachel silently applauded her bravado.

"Quinn Fabray!" Figgins called.

This name set Coach Sue off as she watched her head Cheerio nimbly race down to her. They both put up quite the fuss about Quinn joining the opposite team. Rachel was surprised that Figgins held his ground. Quinn, Rachel knew, would be problematic for the Spanish teacher's team, as she would probably be the least likely of the Cheerios to align herself with him or anyone she considered to be of a lesser social standing than herself.

"Mike Chang!" Figgins practically growled.

And Rachel decided that things were definitely going downhill now. Mike Chang was the first senior to be called, and he was without doubt Puck's one and only partner in crime. Sure he liked Finn, but he was a junior and he confused Puck with how he could be so actual stupid. Mike Chang and Puck had been thicker than thieves since the dawn of time, and while he was quiet and certainly the less malicious of the two he was still Puck's.

And that was dangerous. Very dangerous, Rachel nodded to herself. Because if, and at this she sent up a silent prayer that he wasn't, he was chosen on the opposite team the faculty could kiss their little project goodbye, because Puck just wouldn't play and he would make them regret even trying. And if Puck managed to not get called then who knows what will happen, because if there is one thing Rachel is sure about it is that this little social experiment isn't going to go without a hitch to begin with. And now they're going to have to factor in Puck. She feared for everyone's safety, and their sanity.

"Tina Cohen-Chang!" Figgins sounded like he may have figured out the same thing Rachel had as he hadn't even waited for Mike to get to his team before rushing on.

Rachel peered around trying to catch sight of Puck, as the small Asian girl shuffled forward and stood beside, and almost behind Mercedes. She caught sight of him, leaned back against the wall on the very top row of the bleachers. He was slouched; his head leaned back against the wall, with his feet on one of two empty spaces available. The other was the recently vacated seat of Mike Chang to his right.

His eyes were narrowed as he watched the goings on, looking the entire world like he was considering ripping the microphone from Figgins and sending everyone on their merry way. He seemed to be restraining himself, however, and it made Rachel wonder just how far up the food chain this silly game came from. She was sure that if it was just Figgins and the teachers he would have laughed and led half the school in a walk out, but there he was motionless and concentrating, and very, very sober. Rachel shivered as his eyes met hers and he held her gaze.

And then she heard it. Her heart paused in her chest and she was positive her face was etched to display just how petrified she was.

"Rachel Berry!" Figgins called out her name.

Puck leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as Rachel tried to fix her face. She was frozen turned around in her seat and she was horrified at how long it was taking her to move. But then he tipped his head, just the slightest amount, gesturing to the front of the room. She twisted herself and jumped to her feet before scurrying down to Mr. Schuester.

Her heart was going wild, rebelling against the rest of her, willing her feet to change course and sprint from the gym and refuse to ever come back. But she didn't, and inwardly she cursed and applauded her determination, she steeled her face, plastered a huge smile on and shook Mr. Schuester's hand and moved to stand beside, and slightly in front of Tina. She was a couple of feet away from where Mike stood with Finn and the Cheerios.

And then Figgins called out the name of the last member of their team, and she wasn't alone in the giggle that slipped out when his voice shook as he said it.

"Puck."

Rachel watched as he rose slowly to his full height. He shoved his hands into his pockets and let his combat boots slam forcefully into each step as he descended slowly towards the motley assemblage that was his appointed team. And if he hadn't been coming down the stairs, Rachel would have made a mental comparison somewhere along the lines of Figgins accidentally raising Lucifer from the deepest, foulest circle of Hell.

The entire gym was silent to Rachel, who was positive that she had temporarily lost the ability to hear. Puck bypassed Mr. Schuester and everyone else and made straight for Mike to do some strange handshake/fist bump type thing. Rachel stood like that, with Puck now to her left, as they watched the twelve members of the other team be called. She tried to pay them her undivided attention, but all her mind could concentrate on was how wrong she had been when she had declared the day a success, and she almost laughed out loud and the prospect of the rest of her year and who she would be spending her time with. She was almost overwhelmed with how potentially awful it was going to be and she had to squeeze her eyes shut and sing Barbara Streisand in her head to keep from sobbing openly.

She didn't open her eyes until she felt Puck shift, brushing into her shoulder. She looked up at him but he was pretending to listen to Finn and Quinn complain about how this was going to ruin their image as the perfect couple.

Rachel rolled her eyes and shifted so that she was no longer in contact with him. She could feel his eyes on her as she looked over to see that the opposing team was made up of nothing but jocks and Cheerios. Rachel very nearly complained about rigging, but she was cut off by Figgins.

"Welcome to the First Annual William McKinley Battle Royale!"

I'd love to know thoughts, and if there's any interest in continuing with it. =)

XO Charlie