Disclaimer (because I forgot before,) I do not own glee. Probably for the best.

'You have a record player.'

The morning air was warm around them, Rachel flipping through a diverse collection of records, Quinn lazing on a plump sofa, flicking through the pages of a lit magazine.

'For a cannibal, you're so indie, I mean, seriously.' Rachel grinned a little, when she was sure Quinn wasn't looking. 'Could use a lot more Broadway, but I enjoy your music collection.'

'Your approval is so reassuring.' Came the sardonic yet amused reply.

'Oh, shush,' Rachel gently returned the heavy sleeve, making sure to put it exactly where she found it. She couldn't quite tell how Quinn organised her music, but however it was, Rachel knew better than to upset it.

She settled into a heavy armchair, sinking her back into the heavily cushioned back. 'Your home is lovely,' she complimented, before silence had a chance to set back in.

'Thank you,' Quinn answered with a smile. She was quiet for another moment, before adding 'Bought it when I moved here, had a fair bit of money saved up, so I decided to treat myself. I fell in love with the garden immediately, and the kitchen is to die for.'

'Hilarious,' Rachel crossed a leg over the other, 'And what's a usual Saturday for Quinn?'

Quinn considered this, closing her magazine and gently placing it on a stack, kept under the glass coffee table. 'Well, I'm gonna go get some groceries. And some dinner, seeing as I'm keeping you around. I'd suggest avoiding the kitchen when I get back.'

'Get some clothes for me.'

A raised brow, Quinn turned to face Rachel. 'Oh?'

'As comfortable as this robe is, it'd be nice to have something more to wear.'

Quinn nodded. 'Okay, yeah. I'm gonna get dressed, then I'll head out.'

It was almost two in the afternoon when Rachel heard Quinn return. An opening door, then a heavy thud from the kitchen. Very soon after, a dishevelled looking Quinn knocked on Rachel's door, laden with shopping bags.

'Had to estimate your size. You're pretty tiny, and I think you got your measurements right, but oh well. There's shirts, jeans, skirts, everything a young actress needs.'

Tentatively, Rachel took a sleek black behemoth of a bag, carefully spilling the contents out across her bed.

'Oh my word. Quinn, this is designer. How much–' Rachel looked up at Quinn, dragging her eyes away from the collection of stylish garments that now covered her bed. 'You really, really shouldn't have.'

'Consider it an apology. For how much I may have scared you. It's the very least I can do.'

'I bet you do this for all the girls.'

'Only the vegan ones.'

Rachel was standing close to Quinn, now. Close enough to see the detail in her irises, the curl of her eyelashes.

'I can't be bought with gifts, no matter how extravagant.'

'Never said you could be.'

The twitch of amusement at the sides of Quinn's eyes was similar to that which had shone whilst preparing Rachel; enough that Rachel felt a chill run down her spine.

'You'll have to win me over with pure charm.'

'No mean feat.'

'Never expected it to be.'

There was a heavy weight of tension in the air, an almost, a perhaps.

It was broken when Quinn stepped back, dropping the rest of the bags of the ground. 'I should go get dinner ready. You probably want to use the ear plugs, they're in one of the bags.'

Rachel watched Quinn leave, and pushed away the doubt that was slowly taking root in her mind.

The earplugs lay discarded next to Rachel's book, on the bedside table.

Rachel herself sat with her back against the door. Listening.

There was a bubbling noise. That had been the first thing. A pot on the stove, perhaps.

Then a ripping noise. Something soft falling to the ground.

Quinn was humming now. Rachel couldn't hear what it was, but she seemed somehow in her element.

The fear that ran through Rachel's heart at that was almost enough to make her bury her head in the pillows. Almost.

A whirring, now, getting faster, bolder. Rachel could imagine the heat from the oven, warming the room.

Rachel found herself getting chills as she heard a knife cutting through meat, drawn out slices.

A wet thump on metal. A tray? She wasn't sure.

Rachel opened the door a crack, to hear better, thin ribbon of light dancing across the plush grey carpet as she shifted.

A twist, not unlike clockwork. Shaking of something, like rain on a metal roof.

Running water.

The opening of the oven door, Quinn knew that sound, at least. The scrape of metal on metal.

A clang as it shut.

Soon after, the only noise was Quinn washing up, the sound of bare feet walking around the kitchen tiles, and the rhythmic whirring of the oven.

Suddenly feeling very tired, Rachel stripped nude and slipped under the heavy sheets. The last thing she registered before falling into a deep slumber was the smell of roasting meat and a boiling broth.

'We need to go visit my roommate,' Rachel says, Monday afternoon. 'He's going to start worrying, soon.'

Quinn had gotten back from her job at the bar. Still dressed in black jeans and a flannel shirt, her shoes lay on the floor, next to her handbag. 'Your roommate?'

'He's called Kurt. He writes for vogue. He knows I can take care of myself, but, it's best to pop by and say I'll be gone for a while.'

Studying Rachel, Quinn considered this. 'I suppose so. But I need your reassurance you won't do anything silly like tell him, or run away, or anything along those lines,'

'Of course not.' The trust Quinn was putting in Rachel came surprisingly easily. 'I shall simply tell him I'm staying with a friend for a while, and not to worry.'

Quinn stood up, slipping her feet into converse. 'And if he suspects something?'

'I'm an actress,' a confident grin, 'And as perceptive as he is, he won't suspect a thing.

The door to Rachel and Kurt's apartment seemed strangely alien, unreal. Glancing back at Quinn's car, innocuous on the quiet street, she had to take a moment before knocking on large brown door.

It was a minute before it opened, but still not long enough for Rachel to prepare herself. When Blaine, hair tousled and clothes casual, pulled open the door, his surprise evident.

'Rachel! Come in! I mean, obviously, it's your place, but: where have you been?'

Kurt appeared from his bedroom, before Rachel had a chance to answer. His eyes widened, mouth opening slightly. 'You're back late,' he finally said, moving to stand next to Blaine, arm finding its way around his waist.

'I… Needed a break.'

'From what?' Kurt asked, not so easily convinced.

'I suppose, everything.' That wasn't entirely a lie. 'Work, and all the failed auditions, the hectic nature of work, it's all so much. Has been for a while. So I went to an old friend's house, stayed there for a while.' She took a breath, the air of the apartment oh-so familiar, oh so seductive. 'And I'm going to carry on staying there. I'm not sure how long. But I'm safe, I'm okay. You guys have nothing to worry about.'

The boys both nodded, Blaine in warm understanding, Kurt in gentle support.

'You've been fired. Just so you know.' Kurt finally admitted, with a sympathetic wince. 'Dani called, after you didn't turn up all weekend.'

'Doesn't surprise me all that much. It was a dead end job anyway.'

Blaine chimed, in, with 'We'll be here. If you ever need us. Just a phone call away, and we'll come running. We don't doubt you're capable and safe and so much stronger than anyone would believe.'

Rachel's face softened, and she pulled both of them into a warm hug, letting it last as long as she could. 'You guys are the best friends I could ever ask for, you know that, right?'

'Only because of you,' said Blaine.

'We know, yeah,' said Kurt.

As they sat in a queue behind a red light, Rachel fiddled with the stiff knobs of the tuners, feeling through static to find a radio station.

'How did they take it?' Quinn finally asked, tapping her fingers on the wheel to a mysterious beat.

'Reasonably well. They left the door open to my returning, but seemed to understand I need time.'

They started to move again, and the trees on the side of the road turned into a blur of greens.

'I guess that means you're free to eat me without worry, if you even had any before.'

Rachel didn't notice the frown Quinn gave as she looked at Rachel for a moment.

'I suppose so.'

Quinn retired to her bedroom early that night, mind swimming with confusion and choices. It rained again, and the sound was soothing, sending her to sleep fast.

That was how she missed Rachel sneaking out of her room, into the kitchen. Opening the door to the fridge twice her height, a blast of artic wind hitting her robed body enough to give her deep shivers.

Heart pounding, Rachel found a tray, with a decidedly human leg on it, wrapped tightly in cling film. Pulling it out of the fridge, she was surprised with how heavy it was. Tenderly, she unravelled the cocoon, until the meat, bloody and warm, sat in her hand.

A squeeze, then another.

This is what I could end up as.

She felt fear hit her in the heart. Not of the possible destiny that lay clutched in her fingers, deadly and horrible, but of how fascinated she had grown by it.

She left as quickly as she had arrived, the only evidence of anyone having been there a ball of cling film in the bin and a smooth layer over the dish.