Quinn Fabray's Point of View

"These are the rooms," Sam explained, pointing to the long line of doors within the current corridor they were walking down. Quinn could see each door had a golden plaque with a specific number on it. "Uh...we have plenty to spare, so just take your pick. I will mention that, uh...neither Dean nor will I clean up after you guys, so you will have to take care of that. If we find Brittany sooner than later, you won't have to do much of that. That's...about it. I'd honestly show you more, but I honestly think I'd end up getting us lost. I've been here for years and I still haven't seen the whole thing. Too many twists and turns, you know."

"How fascinating!" Rachel gushed, practically yanking on Blaine's arm, who seemed just as eager to explore. Kurt and Santana rolled their eyes.

"Thank you," Quinn said, smiling. She bit her lip and glanced at her friends, seeing them engage in a minute conversation on what rooms they would take. She grabbed Sam by the arm, trying to ignore the bulging muscles in his bicep, pulling him aside so they could speak privately. "And...given your brother's obvious animosity towards us, I want to thank you for convincing him to help us, and also...to let us have a place to stay. That's really cool of you."

Sam smiled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's no problem. If I lost him or someone else I loved, I would hope whoever I'd turn to would help me, too. But uh..." He also paused to look at her friends. "Look, my brother's real on edge with all of this. Like I said, all of this is a practice trial, but I'm not really the guy you need to suck up to, if you catch my drift."

"Right, right. Look, we're not amateurs. Compared to you two we are, but we're not some damsels in distress. At the very least, Santana and I can handle our own just fine. We'll do whatever it takes to show Dean we're serious about this. We just need to find Brittany and bring her back to her fiancee. We'll be on our best behavior, I'll make sure of it. You have my word." She put an assuring hand on his right pec, her smile slightly twitching. That was muscled, too. Who the hell was this guy?

"We'll regroup in the morning and get started. I suppose the first hunt we embark on together will be our trial run. I hope you two can keep up," Quinn grinned playfully. Sam chuckled. "Thank you again, Sam. I really do appreciate it. We're going to get some sleep."

"Okay," Sam said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Have a good sleep, I guess. If you need us, we're down the western corridor. You remember where that is, right?"

"If not, we'll scream."

Sam nodded, bidding goodnight to the others before leaving them to it.

"They really made the Winchesters something to gawk at, huh?" Kurt voiced their thoughts, his eyes focused on Sam's retreating rear. Blaine scoffed. "I saw you eyeing Dean earlier, don't play coy."

"I did not!"

"Of course not, you watch everyone like that when they're drinking a can of beer," Kurt said, smiling. "If you ask me, they're both something."

"They're incredible gracious, I'll give them that. I mean...giving us rooms to stay in? I thought for sure we'd be kicked to the curb," Rachel confessed. "Plus the tour, albeit a short one given the size of this place, really opened my eyes to their daily habits. Seems like they need to be given something to do. Like a project."

"Like the apocalypse?"

"That isn't funny, Santana," Rachel scolded.

"I wasn't trying to be funny," Santana said. "I'm just as happy that we finally got the help we needed to find Brit, but I'm not going to pretend we're in an ideal situation. For God's sake, Q, they're the Winchesters."

"Exactly, which means whatever took Brittany is automatically no match for them," Quinn declared. "Alright, enough arguing. We need to get some shut eye. Kurt and Blaine, I understand you'll probably want a room to yourselves. Santana, Rachel, and I will-"

"Oh, no. No, no, no. I'll take my own room," Santana volunteered. "You and Berry can lez it out in your own room, I don't need the hobbit kicking me in the chin again."

Rachel flushed. "That was one time!"

"I was bruised for two weeks," Santana snorted. "We still have to go get our things."

"We can do that tomorrow. It's late. Everyone needs to get some sleep," Quinn ordered, pointing in Kurt and Blaine's direction. "That means you, too. Try to keep the Klaine alone time to a minimum."

"You're so crude," Kurt said, whereas Blaine just blushed.

Kurt and Blaine chose their room towards the right, Santana taking the one to their left, leaving Quinn and Rachel to sleep in the one to the left of hers, keeping the Latina in the middle. The room wasn't extravagant, but it was nicer than a motel, Quinn guessed. The bed was big enough for three and there seemed to be a bathroom adjacent to the right side, complete with a shower, sink, and toilet. The walls were stripped bare of any character, and the bed was made up with a scratchy looking blanket and pillows without cases. There was a single dresser with four drawers.

"Well, hopefully this won't be for long," Rachel said, walking over and sitting on the end of the bed. She bit her lip, before looking up at Quinn. "If you're uncomfortable, Quinn, I am perfectly fine taking a room for myself."

"No, you're not," Quinn stated matter-of-factly. "But I don't mind, anyway, just as long as you don't go kicking me in the chin in the middle of the night."

Rachel smiled. "You have my word."

Rachel struggled with sleeping alone, Quinn had discovered early on when they first started all of this. Despite starting out as Kurt had, with research and playing computer-geek, she struggled with the knowledge of the supernatural. And she definitely didn't get better when she actually got out in the field. She was riddled with unspoken nightmares, nothing she would tell Quinn, no matter how hard she tried.

"I'll use the restroom first, if that's okay," Quinn said, already going inside and shutting the door behind her just as Rachel gave her the okay. She pressed her back to the door and let out a deep breath, something well indicating the stress she had been withholding since they had broken into the bunker in the first place. She ran a hand down her face, trying to steady her breathing. She didn't want to alarm Rachel; she knew the girl would insist they sing about it. Since their departure from Lima, it's been a while since she could properly display her gift, other than the little lullabies she'd do if Quinn was struggling to sleep, so she would use emotionally impacted circumstances as an excuse to sing instead.

She couldn't believe this worked so well. She sure as hell didn't think they'd be offered a place to stay either.

Brittany being missing has impacted her crew for so long now, she was running out of hope, and she never did normally. She was their leader. She was supposed to be what they needed her to be, and lately, she thought of just giving up. But every time Quinn looked at Santana, she couldn't find the gall to do it. Santana was absolutely miserable, and Quinn wasn't sure how much longer she could hold on. They still haven't even told Brittany's parents yet.

In fact, none of them have spoken to their parents since their departure.

Quinn looked up. The sink was directly across from her, as was the mirror. Quinn toyed with her hair loosely, trying to get her mind off parents completely. She didn't have time for that. Tightening her lips, she went and turned on both water handles, gathering the water up in her hands and throwing it into her face to calm herself down. It helped immensely.

She turned the water off and grabbed one of the towels available, drying her face. She thought for a moment and cursed. They had no clothes to change into in order to shower. And there was no way she was going to head to the motel by herself to grab everything. It was too late for that.

"Quinn? Quinn!" Rachel called, knocking on the door.

"What is it, Rachel?"

"Sam's at the door. He's asking for you."

Quinn was confused; what happened now? Inspecting her face briefly to ensure she was presentable, she opened the bathroom door, passing by Rachel to get to the bedroom door, swinging it open. Sure enough, Sam was standing there, a pile of clothes conveniently in his hand.

Quinn's brow raised. "Can you read minds or something?"

Sam chuckled. "No, I just think ahead. The Men of Letters have stock for PJs, kind of like a uniform. Seeing as women weren't exactly in their ranks by the many, the sizes are all a bit bigger, but I figured you wouldn't mind. I already gave your other friends some, too."

Quinn smiled, taking the pajamas from him. "I really appreciate it. Thank you. Again."

Sam nods, waves over her shoulder to Rachel, before turning his back and disappearing down the corridor once more. Quinn watched him go, smiling, before shutting the door and going to set Rachel's pajamas down on the bed before taking hers toward the bathroom.

"That was interesting!" Rachel squeaked, grinning widely at the blonde.

"Oh, don't get ahead of yourself. He's just being hospitable, and I'm being the grateful guest I need to be in order to make sure we stay on their good side," Quinn tuts, flicking Rachel's nose playfully before disappearing into the bathroom to shower.

Rachel took longer than Quinn; she wondered how she would substitute her methods for her crazy bedtime routine this time. Quinn knew Rachel was just going nuts without her moisturizers. Quinn was combing her hair with her fingers, the wetness seeping into the thick material of the PJs she currently had on. Weirdly enough, they were extremely comfortable. If only the colors weren't so barren. They bled beige and grey.

The door at last opened, steam pooling out and momentarily hiding Rachel from her view. She, too, wore the same PJs, her brunette locks lightly dried from her thorough steps with the towel. Rachel smiled, switching the light off on the bathroom before rushing over to crawl into bed, taking the left side and giving Quinn a generous amount of room so she'd be comfortable. She faced the blonde, still smiling. It was sickeningly contagious. Quinn mirrored her, pulling the blanket over herself, too. This, too, was extremely comfortable. The Men of Letters may have been notably misogynistic, but they knew how to make things last.

"I can't believe it's finally happening," Rachel whispered, despite it just being the two of them. "Santana's been so desolate, as of late. Nothing's been able to keep her spirits up. When she hunts, I often feel like we're losing her even more. Blaine's told me she's woken up to her crying before."

Quinn hummed. "I don't blame her. Brit leaving took a part of her, too. But you're right. She needed something to reignite her Lima Heights spark. I was this close to benching her."

Rachel seemed considerably surprised. "You were going to cut her off?"

"Not permanently. I was just going to have her help Kurt and Blaine so she could get her mind straight. It was dangerous having her out with us with that kind of thing on her mind," Quinn explained. "Knowing her, she'd have socked me right between the eyes."

"Or worse," Rachel visibly shuddered. "Santana's the last person you want to keep from doing what she wants. In a way, I feel like hunting distracted her. It kept her from thinking about Brittany. Perhaps that was just false hope. With Sam and Dean helping us, perhaps things will change."

"They will," Quinn assured. "We should get some sleep. Goodnight, Rachel."

"Goodnight, Quinn."

She was alone when she woke the next morning. At first, Quinn had just assumed that she was in the restroom, but the lack of light coming from the bottom of the door told Quinn that wasn't the case. The blonde sat up, grunting slightly as she stretched. That was the best sleep she'd had in a while, Rachel proving to be a better bedmate as of late without her thrashing about from her nightmares. Quinn thought for a moment, however, that perhaps Rachel never ended up falling asleep. That would make her not being in the bed more understandable.

Quinn grunted, sitting up and swinging her legs over the side, prepared to start her morning routine and just stay in her uniform pajamas that Sam provided her. She froze, eyebrows knitted in confusion when she saw her luggage a few feet away from her. It was sitting right beside Rachel's, though Rachel's seemed more empty. Confused, Quinn got out of bed and approached the dresser, pulling open all four drawers. Two of them were completely occupied by Rachel's things. Quinn even saw her pistol hiding behind her socks.

Quinn skipped the bathroom, which she would regret later, now determined to go find Rachel. She stopped short in the corridor. Santana's luggage was sitting outside her door, as was Kurt and Blaine's outside theirs. Clearly Rachel had been a very busy bee. Quinn's nose wrinkled, hissing as she clamped a hand over it. Something horrid was in the air. On edge already, she whipped around and walked up to her luggage, unzipping it with ease and finding her own gun, checking the bullets before walking out and following the stench. Something had to be wrong. Perhaps accepting Sam and Dean's gracious invitation was a bad idea.

The smell seemed to be coming from the kitchen Sam had showed them the night prior. He had told them they were welcome to use it whenever, just keep their hands off the beer, lest they want to hear about it from Dean. Carefully, the blonde lifted her gun, still sparing her nose from the awful stench, before jumping out into the doorway with it pointed.

Rachel was whimpering at the stove, determinedly stirring whatever was inside as steam rose from it. The counter seemed to be hidden under platters of burnt biscuits, blackened eggs, and other things she couldn't identify. Quinn could also see a familiar blue book propped up beside the brunette, and Quinn immediately knew what was going on.

"What have I told you about using kitchens unattended?" Quinn hissed, making Rachel jump and fling whatever was on the other end of the spoon up in the air in order to hit the ceiling. Almost immediately, coincidentally in fact, the pot on the stove burst into flames, making Rachel shriek.

"Damn it, Rachel!" Quinn snapped, jumping into action. Dashing for the sink, she picked up the spray nozzle and yanked it up, turning the tiny dial attached to the back and using it to put off the flames, finally getting it to die down to just a sliver of a flame. Sighing in relief, she replaced the little spray nozzle and stopped it with her thumb and index finger. While disaster had been avoided, there was still a huge mess.

Rachel was cowering near the furthest counter, cupping her hands over her mouth as she stared at Quinn in bewilderment.

"What...the hell...were you thinking?" Quinn hissed. "What are you doing?"

Rachel bit her lip, slowly moving her hands. She looked absolutely guilty.

"I was...I was just...I wanted to, um...make breakfast for everyone. I thought it'd be a nice thing to do for Sam and Dean since they were so c-courteous in giving us a room and were willing to help us out," Rachel explained as quickly as she could.

"Our bags being here...that have anything to do with you, too?"

Rachel flushed. "I couldn't sleep last night."

Quinn huffed, pushing her hips against one of the counters and running both her hands down her face.

"I thought I told you before if you can't make it through the night because of your dreams-"

"I know, I know. I honestly didn't sleep last night. No bad dreams, Quinn, I assure you. I suppose I was just so anxious to start the day. Whether Kurt and Blaine will find us something to do or we get right down to business with the brothers on finding Brittany, I just couldn't find it in me to sleep. Once I was sure you weren't waking up, I climbed out of bed and snuck into Santana's room to steal the car keys. It wasn't too long of a trip, and I managed to give Garry back the key to our room. I figured we'd want to move and sleep in our own clothes, bathe with our own soap. The breakfast was just a gesture; though I suppose I have still yet to improve, even with the damned cook book Blaine bought me." Rachel grabbed the blue book by the stove and slammed it shut.

Quinn sighed. "You are going to be the death of me, you realize. C'mon, you need to help me clean your mess before Sam and Dean wake up. No more kitchen fires for you, Rach," Quinn said sternly. Rachel nodded solemnly, still looking downright distraught with guilt. She truly meant well.

They managed to hide any evidence that a fire even happened. The ruined breakfast goods were tossed into a bin and sprayed profusely with available air freshener to mask the burnt smell that seemed to be stagnating. Rachel had apologized to Quinn about four more times by the time someone joined them.

Quinn had gone silent upon seeing Dean, adorned in a greyish-blue robe with a cursive 'D' stitched onto the right pec. He stopped short in the doorway upon seeing the two of them, his hand instinctively going to his hip; Quinn assumed he was going for his gun. Just as instinctively, Quinn had pushed Rachel behind her, eyes focused on the elder hunter, but he just sighed, rolled his eyes, and approached a coffee maker Quinn hadn't noticed before.

"You two always up this early?" he asked, breaking the awkward silence.

"Not normally, but it's difficult for us in new terrain," Quinn lied.

"Feel free to leave if it makes you too uncomfortable."

"I can see you're still not very thrilled with us being here," Quinn said testily. Rachel watched the exchange quietly, hopefully catching Quinn's subtle hint to not say a word, lest Dean feel brave enough to say something to her. Quinn wouldn't tolerate that. Her crew were her responsibility. "We were just coming in search of breakfast."

"Well, we have plenty to work with. Help yourselves. I think Sam just got eggs and some biscuits if you want breakfast sandwiches," Dean said, finishing preparing the coffee maker before approaching the refrigerator.

"Uh, I already checked!" Rachel smiled nervously. "No eggs to be found." Quinn rolled her eyes. She knew exactly where the eggs were, burnt to a crisp in the trash bin. "I suppose Kurt and I could make a trip into town and pick something up for everyone, if you're feeling peckish, of course. We don't mind!"

Dean harrumphed, returning to the coffee maker, watching it impatiently. "I'll pass, thanks."

Quinn tightened her jaw. Straightening up, she turned to Rachel. "Why don't you go shower and get dressed, then go and wake up the others, okay?"

Rachel looked as though she were about to protest, but Quinn's stern eye kept her mouth shut. Huffing, she exited the room without another word.

"Is your brother still asleep as well?" Quinn asked.

Dean grunted. "He's out on a run. He'll be back in an hour."

Quinn nodded. His safety net was gone, as far as she was concerned. "Let's cut the crap, then, shall we?" She suddenly appeared by his side, her green eyes striking. "I get it. You're not exactly happy that the five of us have invaded your home, and we've been invited to stay in the same breath. It's difficult to adjust; I can't imagine how difficult this must be for you, but I will ask that you treat us with the same energy we have been giving you."

Dean's brow raised. "Have I struck a nerve?"

"Oh, more than one," Quinn laughed. "Those four in the rooms Sam gave us? They are more than my team, my friends...they are my family. They are the biggest pains in my ass, but I will do whatever it takes to make sure they're safe, they're well cared for. I will not tolerate you getting your panties in a bunch in being rude or callous to them. Our friend, Santana's fiancee, she is missing. We had absolutely nowhere else to turn to. Had we any other choice, we would've absolutely taken it. Unfortunately for us, every outlet was exhausted, and we were left with you and your brother. Like we promised last night, as soon as Brittany is found, we will be out of your hair, out of your bunker, and out of your lives. It will be like we were never here. But until then, we have to remain civil. It's become alarmingly clear the only one displaying that is Sam. I'm going to need you to do the same if we want this to work."

Dean was quiet. For a moment, Quinn kidded herself into thinking she had actually shut him up. She had actually pushed him into keeping his silence. The coffee maker broke the silence before he did, dinging for several seconds to signify it was done. Clearing his throat, Dean opened up one of the cabinets, grabbed a mug, before pouring himself a cup.

"Let's make something clear here, Blondie," Dean began, grabbing another container from the cabinet; this seemed to be a jar full of sugar. "This whole...buddy-buddy idea was all Sammy. Had it been up to me, I'd have left all of y'all in the dirt, let you go break into someone else's home and bother them, but Sam's got a soft spot for the wounded. He saw how hurt your friend was, Santana? He wanted to help her get her fiancee back, so I agreed. Then he said he didn't want you guys to trouble yourselves in driving back and forth from your motel to go over blueprints in doing the obviously impossible in finding her. I told him no. But he kept going, and suddenly we have five roommates. I am cooperating the best I can, you can't expect me to suddenly be all happy-sunshine guy ready to skip off into the sunset with you guys shooting bad guys and drinking victory beers."

"I don't expect that-" He cut her off.

"I know you don't, but I'm not gonna be talked down to because I'm not responding in the way you want me to. Those guys are your family? Congratulations. Sammy's my family. And as far as I'm concerned, I've welcomed five complete strangers into my home, capable of hurting my family. I need time to adjust. And I don't need you batting your eyelashes and flashing your claws as an intimidation tactic. If you want me on your good side, I suggest backing off and letting me move along at my own pace."

"As long as we understand each other," Quinn said, sarcasm evident in her tone. "I will give you as much time as you need, Winchester, all I ask is for my crew to be treated with respect. Animosity is unneeded. It hurts the dynamic. How do you expect us to work together if we're going to be arguing all the time?"

Dean took a sip of his coffee after pouring the sugar and using a spoon to stir it. "Figure it out." He began taking big gulps, at last leaving the kitchen as well as Quinn to be alone with her thoughts, taking it all in. She supposed that was Dean's way of finally letting his feelings about the entire situation out in the open. The way he spoke made it seem like he wanted Quinn to pass on the message to the others, let them know not to try so hard with him and pretty much just give him enough space so he could find it in him to tolerate them. So goddamn petty. Quinn rolled her eyes.

Her mind going back and forth at such a fast pace kept her occupied on her way back to her room. The silence from Santana and the boys' rooms told her they were still sleeping. She opened the door to hers and Rachel's bedroom and walked in. There was steam pooling out from underneath the bathroom door. Rachel was still in the shower.

"See me as if you never knew! Hold me so you can't let go! Just believe in me! I will make you see...all the things that your heart needs to know!" Rachel belted, singing as loud as she could over the roar of the shower head. Quinn grunted, throwing herself over their bed, back first, head hitting the pillows near perfectly so she could gaze up at the ceiling. Trying to stop her mind from thinking so much, she focused on Rachel's singing, waiting for the brunette to hit the next verse.

Quinn didn't take much of a long shower once Rachel finished; she was incredibly grateful to have her regular clothes to change into, pulling a light blue sundress over her head and blowdrying her hair in the mirror, watching as it naturally curled up in little ringlets, hopefully ready to be tamed with her hairbrush.

Rachel had already woken Santana, Kurt, and Blaine by that time. When Quinn finally pinned her hair back with a white headband, she could hear them moving about in their own rooms, preparing for the day. Quinn, at last, exited the bathroom shiny and new, pulling on her white flats the best she could. Rachel was waiting patiently on the bed, hands folded neatly.

"Did you and Dean talk about anything special?" she asked.

Quinn shook her head. "Just set out some ground rules is all. Listen to me, Rachel, you do your best to steer clear of him. Let Santana or I do the talking."

Rachel frowned. "Why me?"

Quinn licked her lips. She thought on how to go about this, at last walking forward and grabbing her hands. "I am going to say this as nicely as I can, Rach...Dean is not very happy with us staying here, that much is obvious. He will look for any reason to convince Sam to kick us out and not help us. Our...alliance is flimsy as is, and we need to ensure whoever has to talk with Dean has a more...strong approach."

"Are you saying I'm not strong?"

"No, I'm saying sometimes you get a little sensitive. If he gets mean or testy, I don't want you on the receiving end of that, I won't have it. Just let Santana and I take care of it, okay?" Quinn said, smiling assuredly. "Trust me, alright? This is all for Brittany."

Rachel seemed quite unsure, but she nodded anyhow. "Okay..."

"Okay, now...how about you and Kurt run into town and grab us a couple of breakfast sandwiches?"

Rachel smiled, nodding.

"Okay, let's go," Quinn stood up, keeping one of her hands clasped around one of Rachel's, lightly pulling her toward the door. Turning off the light behind them, she went and knocked on Santana's door before continuing to the boys' about to knock on theirs, but it opened just before she could rap her knuckles smartly across the wood.

Kurt and Blaine appeared, Kurt hunched over his cellphone and Blaine looking slightly worried, his toothbrush hanging slightly out of his mouth. Both of them jumped, not expecting the girls to already be on the other side of the door.

"We have a problem," Kurt said, after calming himself. Blaine continued nonchalantly brushing his teeth.

"What's wrong?" Quinn asked.

"I think there's something going on in Colorado. We've got women strung up in alley ways, torsos sliced open, hearts ripped out. They think they've got a serial killer on their hands," Kurt said, pushing his phone in Quinn's face for her to see. Sure enough, the article seemed to be in hysterics, photos of hastily cleaned crime scenes, complete with yellow tape and different layouts.

"Do we even have the time to take it? Shouldn't we take today to discuss Brittany?" Rachel asked.

Quinn's mind had already been made up, however, the conversation she shared with Dean still fresh. "Actually...I think we should take it."

Blaine seemed surprised, talking muffled with the toothpaste bunched up in his mouth. "You sure?"

Quinn nodded. "He wants to give us a trial run, I say this is the perfect way to do so. We'll be going over Brittany's capture as soon as we return, hopefully in much better spirits."