Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or its' characters; even the notion of vampires is not rightfully mine. I barely own the plot.

Title: Kin

Summary: They should have kept to their own business. How will Rachel protect them now, if she can't even protect herself?

Rating: From teen to mature.

Genre: Supernatural, gore, action, romance.

Authors Notes: This story will be updated Tuesdays, every two weeks; maybe every week…it depends.

"Kin"

Chapter One

Curiosity Killed the Cat

It was a beautiful night, or so it seemed to her. She would have liked to think so with certitude, but she lacked the facts to do so. She could perhaps say that the night was eerily dark in the most somber way that to her seemed quite intriguing. She could also add that the solitude of the sidewalks and the image of walking on them on her own filled her with an imperceptible chill that drilled itself on her bones deliciously. And that the light that was positively artificial, given by the bulbs punctured to the ground, added a feeling of astral enthrallment. She could not add much more to this though; sadly, she was not within this nightfall at the moment. The absence of first-hand experience denied her the possibility to describe the scenery in a more complex and profound manner. It was a pity; she thought it could have been quite the fulfilling experience.

Do not misconstrue her fondness for the gloominess of her sights or her appreciation of the isolation a night provides her. It is only natural considering the recent happenings of her life, would you not agree? Between casual infidelities, unsearched for babies, justly hatred and repugnance and abandonment, was there really a place for her to feel loved? Amity has not been a word much less an action interrelated with her during this last two years. Not even when her mother suddenly decided to stand up for her. She cared for her, she was grateful to her, but really the woman's love could only go so far. How can you support your own daughter, or anyone, when you don't even know where you are standing?

It had been complicated. Not the whole baby-gate experience. For exception of giving up her daughter –the most dreadful moment of her life, toping Finn's unwanted confession to her parents – the rest of the incident had gone surprisingly fast. Even during the occurrence she did not get a moment of peaceful ponder. Among the school drama and the rejection to constantly changing from home to home, what was supposed to be home, and the continuous making of decisions the last thing she got was a moment to gather her thoughts. She remembers feeling like time was running out, she had to think fast or she would get murdered by society's cannibals; which back then, were everyone.

Things are so different now. It almost feels like time stopped. Not like when she gave her daughter away when she could feel the seconds drip the dread from her veins until the most beautiful creature she had ever laid eyes upon had been taken from her feeble arms. By no means was it similar to that. In the strangest of ways, she felt that the dawdling of time was perchance an accomplishment gift sent by God. She was sure that she had not been the best Christian in the last two years or in the majority of her life but the God that she had come to know, the one that her father liked to ignore, was a merciful and forgiving God. Perchance He thought that she deserved a break that most humans didn't get. A miracle in the form of stretching minutes for her to wonder about her life, to go back in time within the confinement of her mind and re-live her past experience, to question her questions and answer her answers. It was time to philosophize about each and every action that she had taken in her deplorable life, why she had taken it, what thoughts had led her to them, why did she stood by them.

To her, God had unnecessarily but appreciatively proven to her His existence by simply allowing her the time to reconsider all she has been thought up until now. She knew she didn't have all the answers yet, but she would keep looking for the truth. She was convinced she was in her way to becoming a new and improved Lucy Quinn Fabray, even if no one else was aware of that yet. She knew, God knew, and every night that solemnly stood by her engulfing her with its patience and comfort, also knew.

"So I'm thinking we need to upgrade." Santana's husky voice interrupts her thoughts and she's forced to reluctantly turn her attention to the other occupants of the table.

"What do you mean San?" Brittany sweetly wonders. She's staring intently at the Latina beside her, her complete attention on the girl while she silently sips from her frozen coffee.

"I'm talking about Man-hands." Quinn frowns slightly, confused and intrigued by what else Santana wants to do to Rachel. She had previously thought that, since the brunette had directly intercepted her scheme at nationals, she was then burying the hatchet with the diva. Obviously it had been nothing more than a short truce.

"It was Finn's fault." Brittany comments. Ah, that's right; their kiss had cost them all nationals.

"It is also her fault. And although we are smoking hot Finn is still the quarter back of the football team. There's not much we can do to him." Santana poked her croissant for the fifth time, and Quinn wondered if she was really going to eat it.

"You just want someone to take your anger out on." The head cheerio states, moving the straw around the edges of her empty cup. She knows about that feeling.

"What? Are you on stubble's fan club now?" She glares and Quinn only rolls her eyes.

"It's not that." She says while shaking her head from side to side. And it really isn't. She's just not going to go from one extreme to the other.

"Then what?" Her tone is filled with insolence.

"Summer starts soon." As always it is Brittany who has to make Santana see reason. The taller blond stares intently into her friend's brown eyes as she loudly slurps on the remains of her coffee. Santana is left with a traditional eye-roll and a cross of her arms over her chest that states her defeat.

"Fine! But we are coming back to this before classes start. There's no way that troll messes with all my hard work and doesn't pay the consequences." Quinn nods, willingly ignoring the part where she makes it seem like she was the only one who worked so relentlessly for that competition.

"Rachel is going to get killed." Brittany's tone is filled with concern which fills the shorter blond with alarm and she can't help but inspect her friends' face. The dancer knew the Latina the best, no doubt, but surely Santana wouldn't do that much harm; she was usually all bark and no bite.

"Damn right she is!"

"No! I mean look!" She points out the window and there is the subject of their conversation walking on the sidewalk across the street with three other people.

"Isn't it a little late for little Miss Perfect to be hanging around with her gang friends?" Santana comments cynically. She leans back on her seat and finally takes a piece of her croissant. Her eyes however, never stray from Rachels' form as the group turns a corner and walks into an alley.

"I don't think they are friends." The dancer states sadly, and Quinn silently agrees.

"Maybe we should go see." Quinn mutters. Santana is silent to this, unsure of what they should do.

"We could get killed as well." The brunette states, mostly because she feels they should keep that thought at the fore front of their minds.

"It could be nothing." – Quinn replies chancing a glance at Brittany. The girl looks utterly worried which only charges her with more anxiety. Maybe that's why Santana hasn't looked her way once. – "Or we might be able to call the cops in time."

There's silence in the Starbucks table. They all know that they don't have much time to make this decision and once again Quinn is loaded with a sense of deja-vu. Not for the incident but for the mood of time. The choice needs to be taken quickly and neither one of them is sure of what path to take; well perhaps Brittany is confident in the recklessness of her concern, considering how her eyes have yet to leave the spot Rachel once was and she's almost vibrating with apprehension.

Santana glances at Brittany for less than a second before her eyes are once again penetrating through hazel orbs. The decision is instantaneously asserted by the two of them with a swift nod of the head. Quinn stands promptly walking to the door and opening it waiting for her friends. Santana is close behind; she throws her croissant and half-finished coffee on the trash along with Brittany's empty cup before dragging the dancer out the door.

As expected, there's a sinister stillness surrounding them as they cross the street. There's no time for Quinn to enjoy it though, cautiously they glue themselves to the wall creeping into the alley. Only the remaining shimmer of a faraway street lamp escorts them to the other end of the lane. They stop shy of the edge at the end of the wall and filled with apprehension, they stare.

Seconds tick into minutes and still there's no movement within the group they are spying on. Two of the guys of the group, tall and bulky as they are, have done nothing but stand on either side of Rachel who looks smaller and more brittle than ever. They are working as jail rails Quinn guesses. Making sure the trembling girl doesn't dare to run away. It is evident that these people are no comrades of Rachel. The tension on her shoulders that's visible even from the cheerios distance confirms that threats would be a more accurate categorization.

The last member is a young woman who couldn't be older than two or three year from their age. The ginger of her curly hair made a curtain below her thin pale shoulders. She stood a few steps before Rachel, staring ahead.

The girls kept waiting as well. Unsure of what their next action should be. It was fairly clear that something was not right here. There was no friendliness in the atmosphere whatsoever. However, they were not sure what was in fact wrong. Nothing had occurred for them to call the police, yet. Although, the trepidation that had made home in her stomach told her something soon would.

There was no more delay to be had as the doors of an abandoned building were blown off its hinges landing a few feet before the fiery haired girl. Quinn tensed in surprise and slight pain when Brittany grabbed her bicep tightly in her fear. She supposed that like her, while keeping their eyes on Rachel and the strangers, they had completely overlooked the shady structure.

That shock however, is quickly exceeded by the following revelation. Exiting through the unhinged doors is a woman with brown flowing hair that goes down to the middle of her back. Her stance is powerful, displaying her over confidence with each step she takes down the stairs. And her strength is shown not only in her stoic facial features but in the hold she has on the man she's been dragging along with her.

Quinn can almost feel the sound of Santana's gulp. She looks back into her wide eyes searching for an answer that she knows she won't find. A loud thump is then heard, catching the head cheerios attention. She sees the brown haired woman laugh whole-heartedly at Rachel and the horrified look in the diva's face.

"Oh my, where are my manners? Allow me to wake him up for you." She says, walking up to the limp body by Rachel's feet and kicking it in the stomach, rousing him from his doze. His eyes open and his mouth follows, screeching at the top of his lungs. He tries to back away from all of them but one of the guys stands behind him holding him down with one of his foot.

"Do it!" His head motions for Rachel, trashing his blond hair away from his eyes. He drives his foot deeper into the man's shoulder causing him to scream in agony. Rachel shakes her head in negative and recoils from the scene but a large hand on her shoulder prevents her from backing away any further. Quinn, Santana and Brittany are utterly confused. Do what? They wonder.

"Kill him!" – The woman, who appears to be the leader, screams. Three pair of eyes extends to their maximum capacity. Santana reaches for Quinn and pulls on her arm, the blond nods understanding Santana's request. They have to go to someone, now. Still, she's rotted to the ground, her eyes fixated to the scene before them. She's witness to Rachel's vigorous decline as well as the leaders' multilayered scowl – "Then watch as I torture the man you denied a simple death."

In some instance of their lives they might wonder if it had been a good idea to stay, or if they should have run when Santana so wisely told her to. Considering either choice would have been right and wrong it would be hard to know. What they were more than convinced on was that had they not been there, they wouldn't have believe what they were seeing.

This type of thing doesn't occur outside of a Hollywood movie set. They certainly don't happen in Lima, Ohio. Actually, they were simply not supposed to take place in real life. Nonetheless they were. A cold blooded murder was going down right before these three teenagers' eyes and the instruments of massacre were – Incredibly so – teeth and claws.

The auburn haired woman that was already intimidating enough by the strength she displayed at manhandling the male at her feet showed her true potential as she bared her gleaming fangs. She wasted no time in launching herself at her victim. He screamed and pushed himself on his arms trying to get to his feet. The nefarious woman would have none of that, she raised her right arm and in a swift motion cut his face and chest with her nails, the pain pressing him down to the street.

"No! Stop!" Rachel screams running forward. She's grabbed around her neck by a tanned, hairy hand.

"Hold on there, you didn't want to be first. Now you have to wait your turn." – He chuckles. Rachel stands still. It is futile to run to him as it is to run away. She lacks the strength and the speed for either one. She bites her lip and closes her eyes tightly, turning her head away, wishing for it to be over soon. She's not even allowed that reprieve as the guy who's holding her takes her face in one of his enormous hands and turns it back around. – "Open your eyes." – He demands, adding pressure to her neck. She whimpers before doing as told.

"Join me Clarisse, before you salivate to death." The leader snickers. The copper haired girl bounces in place before running over.

"Now?" She turns to the woman eagerly, and she smirks nodding her head in approval.

Quinn pressed a hand to her mouth to keep from screaming or throwing up. Perhaps both, for the scene was barbaric. The women threw themselves at the helpless man and devoured him. You could see the blood sprouting off his neck as the blond cannibal bit on his jugular vein viciously. His screams would only increase with each assault of these monsters on his body. Until the red-headed demon buried her long fangs into his chest, he yelled and convulsed for a few more seconds before falling limp on the street. Still, the beasts would not relent. A miserable sob could be heard over their slurping, undoubtedly Rachels'.

"Quinn! We need to get the hell out of here and call the police!" It is Santana's fearful whisper that takes Quinn out of her ghastly trance. She turns to look at her friends. Santana who's holding Brittany behind her is pulling on her sleeve. There's alarm in her eyes, a mirror to her own. It takes a second for her to consider that the police might not be much help in this case, but she quickly vanishes the thought. They need to get out of there, they need to get someone. So she nods and taking Santana's hand makes a run for it.

The exit to this nightmare is but a few feet away. Distance that they could not cross as one of the monsters drops before them. With a yell they turn around only to be met with the same fate. They are surrounded.

"My, my, what do we have here? We are going to have to hang out more often with you Rachel. You certainly know how to keep the feast going!"

Quinn's gaze meets with Rachel's brown orbs; her tears making them gleam in the dark. She gulps, dry and heavy, it is no mystery what awaits them now. She knows it, Rachel knows it, and the fiends before them are dying to show them.

To be continued…