Chapter 9:

Author's Note: So due to both nanowrimo and Macroeconomics, these three updates I'm putting up[Dirty Paws, Invisible, and They didn't have the words] took a bit longer than I wanted. Dirty Paws will have the shortest chapter I've done in a while, mainly because I felt it ended best there, and what's gonna happen in the next chapter doesn't really fit with this one. But anyways.

I actually am finding a plot within this. Hell, in the next two chapters, besides the Faberry relationship progressing a bit, I am gonna further what I started.

Hey, so I'm looking for this fic. Rachel is diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue syndrome and has to give up her dreams of Broadway. I can't remember if its Puckleberry or Faberry, but I'm pretty sure its one of those. If you know of a fic like this, please comment and tell me. I would greatly appreciate it. Also, apparently Fanfic doesn't like my line breaks so I'm sorry if there's an issue with that, I'm looking at fixing it.

Sadly, I do not own Glee, or else Robin Thicke would never ever have been considered as an artist for the show to sing to. B/c fuck that guy.

Because I can,
SurrealSteamPuckk(WeOffendedShadows)

November 24th

Rachel stood her locker after lunch, attempting to decide how much she should bring to class, and given the amount of homework she had completed the weekend before, despite being curled most of it with her girlfriend and their friends(FRIENDS!) staying over Saturday, she was still unsure about classes. Thanksgiving break usually meant time for the teachers to pile on the homework or projects and her English course was no different, asking for a five page analysis due when they returned from said supposed break. Apparently, every teacher thought that they were the only ones who assigned worked, and their work should be priority. Thanksgiving was this week, and while the Berries lacked a full tradition, this year, they had been invited to join her Daddy's family in Pennsylvania, and Rachel wanted Quinn to come. She was an important part of her life, one that Rachel would not give up without a fight, and it was important for their relationship that Quinn know she was welcomed where Rachel was or will be. Ms. Fabray was attending the holiday with Quinn's sister, and while the blonde was invited, she made it clear that it was a token invite (from her sister's perspective), nothing else, so her girlfriend choose to remain at home where she could transform and deal with her full moon in a manner that was healthy and supported by her newly acquired Diva-Watch (name pending finding one that Santana didn't laugh at). Now, though, was the time for class, not thoughts of how Quinn looked under her, wiggling in pleasure, a train of thoughts that she found herself having quite often these days, but she never complained about it, because it meant having a significant other, this time a girlfriend, and that meant relationship, and that meant the right to perv on her partner in relationship, with or without said partner's permission.

Quinn gave it fully.

"What's up with Q?" Santana asked, pausing at her locker. The cheerio uniform still made her pause, given that a conditioned action took a while to remove, but she was slowly getting used to seeing the Unholy Trinity, at least two thirds of it, in uniform. "She complaining bout her pants again?"

"You mean the lack thereof?" Rachel replied. A notebook and her pencil case would have to suffice, in addition to the text book, for science.

"How'd you got her to wear old-school Quinn cloths consistently again is beyond my fucking comprehension," Santana smirked. "Looks better than punk-rocker though." The girl of their conversation turned the corner with the other third of the Unholy Trinity. Quinn wore a sundress with a nice yellow cardigan over it, her once short hair now had grown out a bit, and the punk makeup was completely gone. It was so close to the Quinn of her sophomore year, the one who Rachel first realized she liked girls and forced her to accept her bisexuality. That was a fun period, given her obsession with Finn, but that was the past now. The present held a fantastically hot girlfriend who was driven, caring, and attentive, qualities that Rachel found out were ever so important for her in a partner.

"You awake there, Hobbs?" Santana asked. "What's up with your girl?"

"A, I don't believe you can actually own a person," Rachel answered. "B, I have no idea."

Quinn was talking, or rather, whisper-yelling with The Mack, which was an incredibly silly nickname and arrogant, demanding the descriptor of "the" placed in front of name, as if there was only one who mattered. Rachel didn't know what. It wasn't her business. She wanted to know. She liked knowing things. Knowing things was an important quality in understanding life, not that gossip was good, but it made avoiding slushies and other aspects of bullying when she could.

"What the fuck's the skank's problem?"

Rachel shrugged. The bell would ring shortly, and while arriving late was the accented norm in this school, it was important to be punctual. She closed her lock, held her books tightly to her chest and walked towards her girlfriend and the skank. Quinn paused mid word and turned to her, smiling, the furrowed eyes and scowl gone from her face. She stepped towards her, into her space. "Hey," she said, and she returned the smile.

"Hey," she replied.

"You're both fucking disgusting," The Mack said. "Q, this is what I'm talking about. You can't-"

"I know what I'm doing," Quinn said, glaring at her. "I have this under control."

"Sure you did, so did Tish," The Mack stepped towards Quinn and Rachel, a growl cut through the air. It wasn't either of the two girls arguing though. Rachel looked over at Santana, who had approached and stepped right next to her captain, hands tight in fists, and shaking. "What the fuck-"

"Step the fuck off, bitch," Santana said. "Or I ends you." Her eyes flashed… was that green? Santana's eyes flashed a bright, emerald green, or Rachel was seeing things from the amount of testosterone in the air being produced by the women, or some other poorly worded metaphor. Despite being her thing, she really was bad at creating them, though Rachel would never admit that to anyone, not even Quinn.

"You…you're a-" The Mack stepped back. "What the fuck, Q? What's this bullshit? What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?"

Santana stepped closer and Rachel moved into Quinn's arms. She wasn't afraid of Santana, or Quinn, or Brittany (certainly never Brittany). But that didn't mean she had to be stupid and stay in the middle of what would be a fight. "Back the fucking fuck off, or I will make you wish I did end you, skank."

"Just…" The Mack stepped away and looked at Quinn, a sad, worried look, similar to one Rachel knew she wore most of the beginning of this school year whenever she looked at Quinn too. Girl better not have a crush on her girlfriend, so Rachel would take a page out of Santana's book and "cut a bitch" so to speak. "Just be careful." The skank ran off, away from them.

Quinn let Rachel go and grasped Santana in a hug. "Do you need Brittany?" Santana didn't relax. "San?"

"I'll be fine," she said, her voice hoarse and tired. "I have gym, we're gonna dodgeball."

"I thought it was basketball this week?" Rachel said.

"We're gonna dodgeball," Santana repeated. Quinn let go of her avenger, nodding. "I'll be fine."

"I know you will be," Quinn said. "You'll protect me, but I take care of you. All of you. Text if you need Brit, I'll see her before you do."

The anger slipped away, a smile growing on her face. "Nah, we have a meeting before lunch in one of the science rooms near the east doors."

Rachel paled. "I have class there after lunch." Santana laughed and walked off, waving goodbye. "Wait, what are you gonna do there? Santana? Please don't tell me… Oh Barbara, you better not. Not my classroom. I like knowing I don't have to-"

"You should stop yelling that in the hallways," Quinn said. Rachel closed her mouth. Her friends (FRIENDS!) were so dirty. "We do not want to get Santana in trouble, especially over Britt-time."

"That's so disgusting," Rachel said, turning to her classroom, taking Quinn's elbow in her hand. Her girlfriend walked her slowly. They ignored the bell. Okay, maybe there was a good reason for being late, but still, she knew this should not be normal for her. Punctuality was important. "How they continue to do that, especially with how unsanitary this place is."

"Says the girl who went down on me in the art rooms." Rachel blushed. Quinn leaned down and kissed her cheek then whispered into her ear, "Just think, we can take a page out of their book. Choir room is empty."

"I will not let you tarnish my sanctum."

"So auditorium is out as well?" Rachel blushed brighter. "Oh, someone has a bit of an exhibitionist streak in her?"

"Can we talk about something else, please, kitty?" Rachel whispered, trying to look as demurely as possible, making Quinn wrap an arm around her, pulling herself even closer. "Like what that was about."

"Oh… with The Mack?"

"Yes her, what is her real name?" Quinn shrugged. "Do you know and not going to tell me, or really don't know?" She shrugged again. "I hate you so much right now." She received a kiss on her cheek. "A little less, but still a lot of anger." A kiss on her ear, with a very light nibble. "A lot less." Quinn slide her hand down her spine, just to the top of her ass. "We are in public."

"I know," Quinn said, nuzzling against her neck.

"We have class," Rachel replied.

Her girlfriend sighed heavily and stepped back a bit, and they began walking again, this time at a swifter pace. "I know."

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

"Later?"

"Of course."

"What are you doing for Thanksgiving?"

"Sleeping most likely, make just make a sandwich or something, maybe watch some trashy tv or work on one of my AP projects."

"Feel up to seeing people?" Rachel asked.

"Hmm?"

"I want…would you like to attend thanksgiving with my family, please?" Quinn paused, though Rachel kept walking, finding herself pulled back to the ridiculously strong tigress. Honestly, how she wasn't crushed every time she received a hug still surprised her.

"Really?"

Rachel nodded.

"You…you want me with… your family?" Quinn asked. "For Thanksgiving?"

"No one should be alone for the holidays or special occasions," Rachel said, looking down and away from Quinn. Her chin was pushed up until she looked into her eyes.

"You're talking about all your missed birthdays and sleepovers aren't you?"

"Those aren't-"

"They are, and I cannot tell you the sorrow it now causes me to know that I have hurt you so much," Quinn said. There were tears in her eyes. That was not acceptable.

"No, please, Quinn," Rachel stepped closer to her. They were really gonna be late to class; this would not look good on her transcript. Number of tardies and/or absences: one. So horrible. But Quinn was more important. She always would be. "That wasn't what I was trying to say. Yes, it hurt then, but you're with me and things are better now. So much better. I can… I can't tell you... Please believe me, Quinn, you here now matters more than anything in our past. I have forgiven you and Santana and everyone else so many times.

"But," she said, "I'm not going to forget. It would be foolish for me to do so. You three have earned my friendship. And I offer it freely without reservations or conditions. It is yours to hold and cherish. You have earned my love, Quinn, so many times over I've lost count. My heart rests in your hands. But know how fragile it is, know how easy it would be to break it, shatter it, destroy it. Destroy me."

"Never has anyone given me a more precious gift," Quinn said, her smile sliding into a smirk. "Well, freely and wanted. Beth is the most precious gift I've ever had to grace to receive." They didn't talk about her child or the adoption or her adopting mother/Rachel's birth-mother. For both of them.

"Of course," Rachel said. She stood up on her toes and kissed her nose. "Now, we are really late and-"

"It's like been two minutes, Rae."

"And we need to attend class as education is an extremely important aspect of our lives that should not be missed, so I'm tabling my question concerning what's going on with you and The Mack – Seriously, does she have a real name?" Quinn shrugged, smile wide and bright. "You're impossible." Rachel stomped the ground and turned away, feeling Quinn's eyes on her boy shorts that barely were decent, her short skirt rising in the air. There was a reason why she dressed this way, now some got to enjoy her efforts even more so.

Rachel arrived for class only four minutes late, and the teacher didn't even notice that she was missing, so she sat in her usual seat in the back, where she could teach herself the physics of physics that the other students seemed to fail to understand. Really, what was so difficult about the electro-magnetic field and how it affected particles? It wasn't that hard.

She hadn't lied to Quinn; she didn't meant to bring up their past. It was in the past, even if it still hurt to know that she hadn't had anyone really over, prior to the summer and glee club, since fifth grade, when the campaign of isolation and humiliation began, though it was in its infancy and Rachel wasn't the only target; her loud voice just attracted them much faster.

Things had changed now, and she had forgiven the Unholy Trinity for their acts (even though Brittany was a bystander, she felt those who stood by when acts like theirs occurred, it was just as wrong), so things were better for her. They were the best ever in fact. Finn had stopped harassing her, Glee was going wonderfully, her return to her lessons was pushed to the wayside, as she wanted to spend more time with Quinn and Santana and Brittany, maybe spent some with other people too, but she'll see. Right now, having an awesome girlfriend was enough for her.

Rachel smiled and returned to her textbook; things were going great. It might be presumptuous to think they couldn't get better, but she had faith that it was impossible to get worse.

)123456(

"Hey Brittany," Quinn said, sliding into her seat next to the Blonde in her Cheerio uniform.

"Quinn!" she replied, a bright smile of happiness and wonder. "You're dressed properly, well almost properly, at least not like a scary-goat anymore."

She laughed. There was never harm in Brittany's words, she learned that so long ago, and she could never hold that against her friend. "Yes, Rachel has persuaded me to give up the black clothing, at least for a bit. The jeans would be acceptable if, in her words, 'they showed off my wonderful ass so I could stare at it.'"

"Well, duh," Brittany said. "Girl's crazy."

"About me?"

"No, just in general. You should see some of her fantasies," Brittany continued, "I'm almost jealous. She's gonna ride you so hard. Saddle and everything."

Quinn dropped her head onto her desk, sighing heavily. Rachel had teased her most of Sunday after she left with selections from some of the notes she had acquired and wrote herself. It was illuminating, but Quinn had not expected something as odd as a saddle. "I would rather we talk about something else, Brittany, if that is okay with you?"

"Sure," she said, "not like this teacher has anything important to say. It's just calc." Quinn figured it scared the teacher a bit when Brittany returned the first test and scored a perfect. Then when she was asked to take it again, with him watching her, because the bastard assumed that she cheated, she wrote down every proof to the problems, taking the longest path possible, but showed concepts and theorems they had not covered yet. He left her and Quinn, by association, alone for the most part.

"Santana is struggling today," Quinn said, her voice just a whisper.

"I know, I heard." Quinn raised an eyebrow. "She texted me before gym."

"Good," she replied. At least Santana knew when she should find help. "She was really upset and, while Rachel and I were there, it was not good. She nearly lost control."

Brittany frowned. "That bad?" She nodded. "Maybe sexy-times will be moved up."

"Couldn't hurt." Quinn pulled out a pad and pencil from her bag, immediately doodling. The teacher droned on and on about some limits and how they approached zero and how crazy all this math was. If Brittany was not in her class, she would have fallen asleep every day. And probably failed. No, not really. Quinn knew she was smart and driven, enough that she felt she had a chance at Yale, but Brittany was something else.

So was Santana for that matter.

"I'll take care of our girl," Brittany said, "you just take care of yours."

A pointless quiz, in all senses of the word, was passed out, and they were forced to participate for once, though Brittany finished writing the moment the teacher tried to return to his desk. Quinn struggled through it; her mind was elsewhere.

Patricia 'Tish' Killian was a Scank, "was" being the appropriate word. Over the weekend, someone had tailed her into the forest and butchered her. The biggest issue was that she had been found by The Mack as a wolf, not a human, which meant that no one really knew she was missing. Her parents were in a panic, a manhunt was called for; things were going to get messy. At least the Mack was able to return her to human, resulting in what she was told as a more gruesome sight than previous. They would find her in the woods with no understanding of what happened, who had killed their child, and they would never receive justice in a way they understood.

Quinn did not want to see it. Any of it.

The problem, as she saw it, was that to kill a were-wolf in their animal form was difficult, given the supernatural strength and endurance they acquired as well as the healing factor. Majority of hunters were incapable of it, especially if the wolf had the drop on them, or in the wolf's territory. Both situations that would always be involved. The senses a were-wolf possessed were acute and specific, leaving little unknown to them. Their speed was far greater than her own, and the tigress had always felt she was extremely fast. She was stronger than them, yes, but that strength meant little if she couldn't hit them.

But Tish was caught alone. Wolves' true strength laid in their overwhelming numbers and pack mentality. So a lone wolf could escape and survive, but they were limited in their offensive abilities. So why did she not? Tish knew better than to stand and fight, let alone expect to win. She should have ran. Quinn would have ran. Survivor was greater than victory.

"Quinn?" Brittany tapped her shoulder. She looked up, surprised to see her standing with her bag in hand. "Class is over. I turned in your quiz for you, not that it mattered."

Quinn nodded. A hunter was in Lima. A hunter capable of killing a single were-wolf, and one of this caliber would know that a lone wolf was unlikely, they would hunt for the pack. Then they would find her.

Life had grown a great deal more complicated. She had Thanksgiving and her own transformation to worry about. Even if she remained of sound mind, her tiger-self wanted freedom, and it hurt not grant it so.

Sometimes, Quinn felt she just wanted the positive things in her life to actually last.

)123456(

Rachel locked up her practice room, returned the key to Mr. Schuester's desk, and smiled as she practically skipped out of the choir room. Her songs were coming along nicely, and she was pretty confident that today in Glee she would show Mercedes just what practice can accomplish, even if she could not perform at sectionals. In fact, Santana, Brittany, and Mike had a piece to perform, with the dancers the focal point of it. They promised her it would be great, and it would be a nice change from the usual song focus that Mr. Schuester favored.

The hallway was crowded enough, her mind wandering to topics of song, dance, and Quinn, that Rachel did not see the figure in front of her.

"What's up, Rach?" Jesse St. James said.

Rachel felt her glare form, the one she used very rarely, when something horrible had been done to her and anger, not sadness or frustration, was warranted. It happened rarely, but she knew every single time it had occurred. She hated the feeling that grew when it happened, but it was an accepted part of her life.

She tightened her books in front of her, her palms squeezing the edges as tight as they could, threatening to cut her open. Her legs twisted slightly, into a stance that Brittany had taught her, similar to the one she found herself using against Finn when he outed Santana. Her chest ached as her heart pounded faster and harder. But none of it really showed on the outside of her. Rachel hated how involuntary the reaction was, how extreme it had grown, but sometimes, she couldn't help it.

And she didn't mind it either.

"Jesse," she replied. There was no venom, no hatred, discernable in her voice. It was better that way. "What are you doing here?"

Over the summer, she had come to the conclusion that the majority of boys she had dated where poison for her, and now she was happy that she was done with them. Puck had grown into someone decent, Finn, however, was a bit dense, and Jesse… Jesse St. James had risen to the top of her shit list, which she was surprised she had one, because he didn't just hurt her.

"Still as beautiful as ever I see," he said.

"Okay, that doesn't answer the question. I know for a fact that U of K does not let out until Wednesday." Barbara, she was harnessing her inner Quinn, the ice within her almost frosting her cloths. The Unholy Trinity had taught she the value of herself, and while Prom was fun with him, looking back, she was just another thing for him to use against the gleeks, a tool in his arsenal of promoting his own life and ignoring everyone else's.

"You know my schedule? How sweet."

"Preservation," Rachel took a step back. "I've found that knowing when people are going to be around is good when you wish to avoid them." Jesse had attempted to humiliate or degrade everyone else in Glee, and even before her self-discovery forced on her by Santana regarding her failures as captain, Rachel understood just how much those actions of the Senior Plus had caused her friends (FRIENDS!). She had a girlfriend whom treated her better than all three of her boyfriends combined.

Jesse St. James was after one thing and one thing only: his own advancement. She learned this when he first "attempted" to help the New Directions, but ended up spying for Vocal Adrenaline, her mother specifically, and did everything they could to hurt them. Hurt her. Rachel choose to forget him, and happily so, especially with the summer going as it had. She let him back into her life and, once again, hurt by him. This was not the time to be made a fool, not when things were going so well.

"Rach-"

"My name is Rachel," She took another step back. He followed.

"Fine, Rachel, baby-"

"I would like it if you refrained from using any pet names either." The hallway was clearing out, and she knew she had class to attend. "Now if you excuse me, I have class." Rachel tried to walk by him, but a hand gripped her elbow and pulled her into his space.

"Babe, seriously, just-"

"Let go of me." She shook now, and her body wanted to react. But violence was not the answer. And she had already been suspended for fighting once this year, tarnishing her perfect record.

"What is with this hostility?" he asked, laughing, as though her pain, her friends' pain, was something to joke about. Was he really this blind to how he had hurt them, her? Had she been on this self-absorbed path?

"Let go of me, St. James," she repeated.

"I just wanted to talk."

"And I don't." Rachel stomped on his foot, as hard as she would stomp the floor during any diva rant, pivoted, and walked away.

Why? Because fuck Jesse St. James. You do not murder a bunch of chickens and roosters, and get away with it.

Fuck him and fuck whatever wind was up his ass that made him decided he should even fathom speaking to her.