A/N: Here's how I'm indicating flashback and scene change. … are for scene progression xxx is flashback.

There will be a bit of Finchel in the story, Santana, Quinn, and Brittany will all voice and handle it in their own way. For those wondering, Finn's not setup as an antagonist in this. He'll be more of a pawn. A 'simple human' thrown into the mix is the plan for Finn. Wrong place wrong time, but still super insecure, childish, and have a notion of entitlement.

Faberry'll have a bit of a complicated relationship for a while. Neither willing to give into their feelings b/c of the bond they have had since they found and raised Rachel.

I know there are readers out there who like musical suggestions or lyrics that represent a chapter. I haven't really been focusing on that for this story. However, I have been listening to The Virgin Suicide score by AIR when outline the chapters. So by all means unless I start listening to this think of that album as the style of 'background music' for this story. I decided to include a setting the scene portion at the beginning from now on as well.

'Clouds', 'Playground love', & 'Highschool Lover' being this chapter's musical focus.

What relationship if any should Sue have with Quinn, Brittany, Rachel, and Santana?

A/N: I just edited this a bit better. When I did my read through last night, I was more tired that I thought.

READ, REVIEW and ENJOY! I live on constructive criticism, it makes me want to do better and cater even more towards my readers.

Title: Snowfall

Rating: M – language, strong sexual themes, drug and alcohol use, gore, and "character death"

Word Count: 2,519

Pairings (in no order): Faberry, Brittana, Tike, Klaine, Finchel (very brief)

Friendships: Quick, Puckleberry, Pezberry, more

Chapter Focus: Rachel and Quinn

Setting the Scene: Rachel (still asleep) now dreaming of a content less complicated time in her life. Unaware that Quinn never left her side.

Chapter 2:

A white plastic alarm-clock's digital crystallized diamonds flickered. These minutes mocked Quinn, head cheerio – HBIC, a woman closing on her hundredth 'birthday'. Her body spooned Rachel no longer a large protective barricade against the outside the world for the diva. Now the complex mind games and emotional entanglements of social popularity kept Quinn from providing the 'protection' she knew Rachel deserved.

Phone's phone lay ignored atop the mattress vibrations inching the phone closer and closer to the edge. She replayed to the first, ignored the reply this new message illumining the dark room.

Fine, whatever—just don't come crying & complaining to us when you're all groggy & feel like you just vegged-out on 6 bags of family-sized potato chips after drinkin' down that transfusion crap. You hug the shit outta that girl & Brittany sends her love. – Santana

Quinn laced fingers, recently manicured with French-tips, through Rachel's full waves grazing the teen's scalp. Rewarded with a simple whimper, she did it again. Rachel pushed back bringing her body impossibly close to Quinn. She rewarded the girl by pressing her forehead, cooling from lack of fresh blood, between the shoulder blades of her hot upper-back.

xxx

Crisp page turn from a new book broke the bedroom's quiet. Quinn loved that sound. These times were few and far between, a rare moment when the vampire didn't care about her appearance. Her hair held back with a loose band, oversized tortoiseshell glasses magnified her hazel eyes. Santana nicknamed her Venus, after a Venus Fly Trap, beautiful and deadly. She pulled the highlighter from its cap with her teeth. This would be the start of her third degree. Her first technically associates-style degree a secretarial area of study, she doesn't enjoy discussing that time frame of 'higher education'. Her third degree would be given to her in Economics. Quinn lifted the thick textbook which rested atop her large bed, and placed it against her legs.

Santana agreed to watch the newest addition to their makeshift family during her midterm exam, at Vassar, granted it took Quinn calling, reserving, and spending from her own pocket a night's stay in the best room at the most luxurious hotel in town for Brittany and Santana. Brittany jumped at the chance to take care of the little girl bare over a year old, but she had to work tomorrow.

This time Brittany took on the role of 'provider' while the other two were free choose whatever they wished to take-up their 'time'. Originally when Rachel became a part of their lives Quinn took the responsibly of caring for the infant. Then as time continued, as time always does, Brittany and even Santana, though she would never admit it, started to place themselves as a permanent fixture the girl's life. This freed her time. With that free time she applied to and was accepted to Vassar to study Economics.

Creaks from the aged floorboards pulled her from her academic-trance. Her room about to be invaded by a secret visitor its door inched open in silence.

Sniffle.

"Rachel," a bewildered Quinn asked shifting her neck to the left in the direction of the bedroom door. She was sure the little girl had a few more weeks. All the books said it was rare a toddler her age and size would attempt to escape her crib. That theory turned out wrong, very—very wrong.

Sniffle.

Quinn shut the textbook setting it atop her nightstand. She motioned the toddler, and watched the girl slide her feet across the floor thumb in mouth hair uncombed her face covered in red imprints caused by the blanket that trailed her from behind. Quinn scooped the girl who wore bright pink cotton-wool footy pajamas handpicked by Brittany from a Macy sale. She rose from her perch then began to pace a small five-foot invisible line. "How on earth did you get out of your crib?" She flattened the mess of tangled curls as Rachel rolled her face into the crook of the blonde's neck. Her milder body temperature often soothed the seventeen-month-old. Santana theorized 'the girl somehow figured it out' the timeframe for each woman's body temperature fluctuation from fed to un-fed.

"Oh, little-one, it's okay—it's okay. What happened?"

She grazed her nails along the cotton-wool fabric running along the small arm allowing the tiny hand to around two fingers and waves it in every direction possible. Deep-brown eyes brightened at the question only to disappear once the soft curl covered head lay atop Quinn's shoulder.

"Ark…sawey…sawey ark," she mumbled into the crook.

"I can fix that."

Quinn kissed the crown of curls gripping Rachel's rear for extra support as she began to create a barricade of pillows the left side of her large king sized bed. She set Rachel atop the bed before crawling back to her previous spot.

Rachel propelled herself up, bottom in the air, her actions imitating an excited puppy. She rushed across the bed tripping the folds of the thin blanket. Rachel fell back her diaper crunching loud against the mattress. She smiled as toothy a smile as she could before plopping her head atop a pillow. Quinn laughed resting her own head atop the pillow face turned to the little girl. Rachel grinned again inching her way over. Quinn rapped an arm around Rachel, the toddler taking too long, rested both foreheads resting against the other.

She released Bell-like-giggles as the cotton-wool pajamas tickled her skin. "Wuv Kinn. So—uch," mumbled Rachel her lids becoming heavy her fear of darkness forgotten in the protective arms of Quinn.

"I love you to little-one, so much"

xxx

Can you spare a bag? I'll spot you double if it's cutting close. – Quinn

"Quinn," asked the gravel-sleep-ridden voice of Rachel.

Quinn, focus on the phone transactions, never felt the petite brunette roll a prefect one-hundred and eighty degrees into her chest. Noses graze with lips inches apart. She placed her free hand in loose jumbled bangs of deep brown hair, and brushed each tangle out. Old habits die hard.

"Hey."

Rachel propped her weight on her elbow. Yawning she began rubbing the sleep from her eyes, with the other. "Have you been back long?"

"Not exactly," Quinn absently answered concentration still in the direction of her phone as a new text message flashed across.

Nah, usual will do. Cutting it a bit close aren't we? I thought you were taking a trip for something…oh what did you call it…'a bit more fresh'? – Puck

Don't push your luck. Something came up. Just bring it by 3rd period today– Quinn

"Quinn—Quinn…Quinn!"

"Huh?"

Rachel glared. If she were impulsive like Santana she would yank the phone from the blonde. Nevertheless, they raised her with manner. A trait pushed by Quinn and praised by Brittany. Appreciated by Santana, but that never stopped her teasing. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing you need to worry about, and if you would let me help you…then you wouldn't have cold drinks of slush to worry about either."

"I told you," Rachel groaned. "Don't you go changing the subject I can handle that just fine. Thank you."

"Rachel."

"We are through with this Quinn. What-ever you've been doing to 'keep me safe' hasn't worked because it still happens, and because these slushies still happen even with whatever threats you've given to Cheerios and other student body. I think it best you let me handle it all myself." Rachel gripped Quinn's two fingers, and watched her gaze focus on the simple touch and interaction. The hold having a deeper meaning with the cheerleader than the misfit teen, Rachel let go.

"But—But if you would just…we could—I wouldn't need to sneak into this house or claim I was visiting Brittany to those air-filled skulled teenagers…"

Rachel pushed herself from the bed, leaving Quinn half tangled in the warmth of a comforter she would never need. They could finish—would finish this later. Now, she needed to begin her dressing ritual for the day, seeing as she missed the time for her work out because of a blonde who occupied her every thought for the past year and three-month summer break. No, now—now was dedicated to deciding her outfits for the day. Never again would she not be prepared. Not after that horrible day freshman year when she was subjected to the lost-and-found. Rachel shivered at the thought, never again.

Noah Puckerman entered third period at his leisure at his usual time. Ten to fifteen minutes after the tardy bell. His right hand hidden within the confines of his letterman jacket he revealed a heavy duty flask. Fidgeting feet clanked impatiently against the school desk-table's metal legs. Rachel resisted the urge to turn around to follow his actions, and glare at the blonde who continued a clanking that now reverberated against her inner-ears. What the 'high-schooler' pulled from within his jacket for Quinn incased a thick red, sticky to the touch liquid. Rachel shivered. She loved and hated that liquid. Without it Quinn, Brittany, and Santana would've never save her.

"Nice of you to join us Mr. Puckerman," commented the woman with mouse-colored hair held back in a loose bun, her thick plastic glasses pressed uncomfortably into the bridge of her nose. Puck ignored the comment plopping into his chair. The heavy aluminum thermos clattered atop the plywood desk. "Mr. Puckerman, we have discussed this before…did you bring any for the rest of the class?"

"No Ma'am." Puck watched the mid-aged woman with twenty plus years dedicated to teaching. They made eye contact. The classroom of peers waited each taking a metal bet of who would react first.

Nothing.

Hands gripped either side of her chair. Anticipation higher than the rest, she witnessed this situation only a handful of times in her fifteen years. Brittany still the only one able to hold their choice of victim long enough to create a permanent effect. Mrs. Turnman would no doubt question her interaction with Noah again towards the close of the day as he hold would dissipate from the their lack of visual contact.

The World History teacher stepped back. Hand at her forehead. Three Cheerios watched the interaction between teacher and student. A disapproving look crossed the blondes as amusement crossed the Latina's. "Alright, Mr. Puckerman, but not again, understood? Now where was…" Mrs. Turnman trailed off. Rachel watched her teacher then the mohawked football receiver, and finally the three Cheerios. Puck would be lectured, for his open use of mental thrall. She hoped anyway. Mrs. Turnman was nice, never did anything but expect the same respect back from her students that she herself gave. Well, at least she would have lectured him if she had any say.

"I don't think, anyone would like what Quinn has to drink to stay in shape," He whispered. The boy next to him and Santana chuckled.

"You were informing us this week would be focused on the history of Russia," interjected Rachel, rolling her eyes at Puck's hushed remark.

A sudden, Quinn always hated history lessons on early European History.

"Yes—yes we will be discussing what led to the down fall of the Russian Empire and start of the Revolution of 1905," spoke Mrs. Turnman to no one.

Again the same groan from behind. Rachel smiled; she would no doubt hear the inner and irritated tirade of the blonde who groaned for a third time later that night.

"So that's a yes? Sweet," spoke a loud excited whisper.

Shock—shock the only way to describe her current sentiments. "Yes? Yes to what? I never said a yes to anything." Had the quarterback constantly referred as Jolly Green Giant, Finnocence, Tubs, Doorknob, Lumps, Frankenteen, and so many others Rachel often found herself drifting during Santana's awful nicknames unless they were directed towards Quinn.

"But, you smiled. Smiling means yes…right? All the guys say smiling means yes," stated the whisper, now frantic.

"What? Who told you that, Finn," Rachel whispered as she eyed Mrs. Turnman as she continued with her PowerPoint presentation. "I can tell you Finn, a smile does not always mean yes."

"What? Oh um…Puck said it—well agreed with the theory. Wait—but it meant yes this time right?"

"Ow!" Puck rubbed the back of his head as the pencil landed its wood clanking back and forth then back and forth against the linoleum tiled floor.

Santana snickered beside the diva Brittany giggled. Nothing not even a grunt came from the blonde behind her. After all this conversation was never about the 'textbook theories of how history's started' as Quinn would say to Rachel.

"Finn…I'm sorry, but I haven't the slightest idea of what you are asking about."

"What—wait I thought…oh—uh." The giant football player cleared his throat whatever confidence he had gone. "I was wondering if you wanted to go see a movie, you know grab some dinner…go out on a date."

"Oh—oh! I um…Finn I don't…" Rachel watched the hurt continuing to etch across his face. She couldn't do this to him. It wasn't everyday she was asked out on dates. "Finn—um…I…yes—yes Finn. I will go out with you on a date this Saturday night."

None witnessed as Quinn rose from her seat, shimming behind Santana large history textbook in hand. Each too focused on the exchange between the diva and quarterback. None saw her drop the book point down atop Puck's foot. They did hear him yelp with surprise.

All eyes on the Head-Cheerio watching—waiting on the edge of their seats anticipating, and what Rachel and her pears got… Quinn smiled a very loose smile her hand taking hold of the Jewish teen's head shaking it left and right gripping his mohawk. "Oh, Puck…I'm sorry let me check that for you." She bent down no longer in view of her classmates. Aside from two cheerleaders, a diva, and a football player, well, he at least helped block the blonde from prying eyes. Finger tips traced textbook binding. She looked at her old friend then pressed the book into his foot.

Brittany and Santana winced able to hear each bone of the foot break. Thirty minutes until the next period bell gave Puck's foot just enough to time to mend, allowing him to limp until the afternoon when every break would be healed.

"Quinn—Quinn! Is that at all necessary," questioned Rachel in a harsh whisper and disapproving tone.

Quinn ignored her. She took hold of the lettermen jacket and yanked. Puck missed the desk-table edge thankfully. Rachel watched the rest of her 'family' fidget uneasily the only ones able to hear the threats whispered to the teenage boy.

The Head-Cheerio rose from her crouch ignoring Rachel as she sat back in her seat. Pen in hand she began to 'listen' to the lesson on a time she had first-hand knowledge of.

Maybe she shouldn't have agreed to that date with Finn. It now very clear who gave the boy the push to ask her. Rachel would never forgive herself if this caused a rift between the head-Cheerio and Football receiver.

I hope you enjoyed, please review and let me know what you think.