A/N: Hey ya'll! So here is Chapter 8. This is just a closer look into one of the Schuesters. The next one will be back to our main programming, but the story of this person is important and is a bit of foreshadow. I hope you enjoy it.

Happy Reading!

ProTIP:

-TRIGGER WARNING-

This chapter contains mild descriptions of sexual assault and violence.

And as always, REVIEWS=LOVE!

DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own: Glee, The Twilight Saga: Eclipse, any characters, places, words or phrases of either the books, television show or movies, Chicago or anything else you can find outside of fandom.

I took a deep breath as the cool air of evening hit in face. I know that Sam, Kurt and Tina were just concerned about me but I seriously can't wait to become a vampire. I want to prove that Mercedes Jones is more than capable of taking care of herself.

"Go blather to someone else about the joys of becoming a newborn," Rachel said without turning to face me.

I took another deep breath and collected myself before speaking, "Ok, Rachel, I don't understand what I did to make you hate me so much."

"Hate…" she chuckled wryly. "I don't hate you," she said matter-of-fact. "I don't particularly like you but…" she said with a pause. I wasn't particularly fond of her ass either but I figured that saying that shit out loud would probably result in me being maimed. "Mercedes, I envy you."

"What? That's ridiculous," I said.

"No, it's not," she said shaking her head, her back to me still. "Would you come closer? Talk with me for a minute?" Rachel asked, her eyes finally finding mine.

"Sure," I said stepping up beside her.

"What has Sam told you about all of this?" Rachel asked, gesturing to her perfect immortal body.

"Nothing," I told her, "I had hoped that each of you would eventually feel comfortable enough with me to tell me yourselves."

"Well, would you like to hear my story, Mercedes? It doesn't have a happy ending – but which of ours does? If we had happy endings, we'd be under gravestones now," she said bleakly.

"I would love to hear your story, Rachel but you and I need to have a serious discussion about what constitutes a "happy ending"," I told her. "Go ahead."

"Ok, well, I lived in a different world than you do, Mercedes. My human world was a much simpler place. It was 1933. I was 18 and I was beautiful. My life was perfect," she began. I wanted to say that perfection is unattainable but I kept my mouth shut again. "My parents were thoroughly middle class. My father had a stable job in a bank, something I realize now that he was smug about – he saw his prosperity as a reward for talent and hard work rather than acknowledging the luck involved. I took it all for granted then. In my home, it was as if the Great Depression was only a troublesome rumor. Of course I saw the poor people; the ones who weren't as lucky. My father left me with the impression that they'd brought their troubles on themselves."

"That's kinda gross," I commented.

"Yes," she chuckled. "It was my mother's job to keep our house – and myself and my two younger brothers – in spotless order. It was clear that I was both her first priority and favorite. I didn't fully understand at the time, but I was always vaguely aware that my parents weren't satisfied with what they that, even if it was so much more than most. They wanted more. They had social aspirations; social climbers, I suppose you could call them. My beauty was like a gift to them. They saw so much more potential in it than I did," Rachel told me.

"Not to get off topic, but what happened to your brothers?" I asked.

"They each married wealthy women and had children. One of them named one of their daughters after his late sister," she said with a smile.

"Oh. Ok," I smiled back.

"Like I was saying, they weren't satisfied, but I was. I was thrilled to be me; to be Rachel Berry. Pleased that men's eyes watched e everywhere I went from the year I turned twelve. It delighted me that my girlfriends sighed with envy when they touched my hair. Happy that my mother was proud of me and my father liked to buy me pretty dresses," she told me smiling at the memories. "I knew what I wanted out of life and there didn't seem to be any way that I wouldn't get exactly wanted. I wanted to be loved; to be adored. I wanted to have a huge, flowery wedding, where everyone in town would watch me walk down the aisle on my father's arm and think I was the most beautiful thing they'd ever seen," she told me. She chuckled at my quirked eyebrow before continuing, "Admiration was like air to me, Mercedes. I needed it to live. I was silly and shallow, but I was content," Rachel said amused at her own evaluation. "My parents influence had been such that I also wanted material things. A big house with elegant furnishings that someone else would clean, a modern kitchen someone else would cook in. as I said, shallow. Young and very shallow. And I didn't see any reason why I wouldn't get those things," she said. "There were few things I wanted that were meaningful. One in particular," I waited quietly as we both peered out over my deck, "My very closest friend was a girl named Rosalie. She married young; just seventeen. She married a man my parents would never have considered for me – a carpenter. A year later, she had a son, a beautiful little boy with dimples and dark brown hair. It was the first time I'd ever truly felt jealous of someone else," she told me, a distant look in her eyes. "I wanted everything she had. It was a different time. I was the same age as you but I was ready for a house, a husband who would kiss me when he came home from work, a baby – just like Rosalie. Only I had a different house in mind…" she paused.

It was hard to imagine Rachel's world being real. It sounded so much like a fairy tale. I wondered if my world baffled her the way herd did me?

She sighed before speaking again, the playful delight absent from her voice, "In Chicago there was one "royal family" – the Kings ironically enough. Astin King owned the bank where my father worked; and nearly every other profitable business in town. That's how his son, Astin King the Second," she gritted his teeth as his name slithered from her mouth, "saw me the first time. He was going to take over the bank so he began overseeing the different positions," she explained. "A few days later, my mother conveniently forgot to send my father's lunch to work with him. I remember being confused that my mother insisted I wear my white organza evening dress and roll my hair up just to run over to the bank," Rachel recalled. "I didn't notice Astin watching; everyone always watched anyway. But that night the first of the roses came. Every night of our courtship he sent a bouquet of roses. My room overflowed with them. It got to the point I would leave the house smelling like roses," she smiled but the smile was cold. "Astin was handsome too. He had blonde hair and pale blue eyes. And to say my parents approved would be putting it mildly. This was everything they'd dreamed of and Astin seemed to be everything I'd dreamed of. This fairy tale prince come along to make me a princess. Everything I wanted," Rachel said downtrodden, "yet it was still no more than I expected.

"We were engaged before I'd known him two months. Over that time, we didn't spend a lot of it alone. Astin told me he had responsibilities at work and when we were together…" she paused a moment, "he liked people to look at us; see me on his arm. I liked that too. There were lots of parties, dancing and pretty dresses. When you're a King, every door is open, every red carpet rolled out to greet you," Rachel said with disdain. "It wasn't a long engagement. Plans went ahead for the most lavish wedding. It was going to be everything I ever wanted and I was completely happy. When I called at Rosalie's, I no longer felt jealous. I pictured my beautiful children playing on the sprawling grounds of the King Estate and I pitied her." Rachel clenched her teeth and pounded her fist against the railing. I assumed the unhappy ending she eluded to before was fast approaching.

"I was at Rosalie's that night," she whispered. "Her little boy Jasper really was adorable - all smiles and dimples – just sitting up on his own. Rose walked me to the door, her baby in her arms, her husband, Emmett, at her side, his arm around her waist. He kissed her on the cheek when he thought wasn't looking. That bothered me."

"Why?" I asked out loud, accidently.

"When Astin kissed me, it was quite the same – not so sweet somehow…I shoved that thought aside. Astin was my prince. Someday, I would be queen," she stopped again and I could see her steel herself. "It was dark in the streets; the lamps were already on. I hadn't realized how late it was," she whispered absently, "it was cold too. Very cold for late April. The wedding was only a week away and I was worrying about the weather as I hurried home. I remember every detail about that night," Rachel paused again. I put my hand atop her fisted on and waited for her to continue. She sighed heavily before speaking again, "Yes, I was thinking about the weather. I didn't want to move the wedding indoors," she chuckled wryly. "I was a few streets from home when I heard them. A cluster of drunken men under a broken streetlamp; laughing too loud. I wished I called my father to escort me but the distance was so small, it seemed silly; and then he called my name."

"Rach!" he yelled and the other drunks laughed stupidly. I hadn't realized the drunks were well dressed. It was Astin and some of his friends; sons of other rich men. "Here's my Rach!" Astin shouted, laughing with them; sounding just as stupid. "You're late. We're cold, you've kept up waiting so long." I'd never seen him so drunk. He'd have a toast here and there but he said he hated champagne. I hadn't realized he had a taste for something stronger.

"He had a new friend – the friend of a friend actually, come up from Atlanta. "What did I tell ya, John," Astin crowed, grabbing my arm and pulling me closer, "isn't she lovelier than all your Georgia peaches?" The man named John was dark haired and suntanned. He looked me over like I was…"

"A slave at auction?" I interrupted.

"Yes, I'm sorry," she said releasing her fist and squeezing my hand.

"Don't be, it's ok," I told her.

"It's hard to tell," John drawled slowly, "she's all covered up." They laughed, Astin like the rest. Suddenly, Astin ripped my jacket from my shoulders. It was a gift from him – popping all the brass buttons off. They scattered all over the street. "Show him what you look like, Rach!" he laughed again as he tore my hat from my head. The pins pulled the hair from my roots and I cried out in pain…they seemed to enjoy that – the sound of my pain," Rachel said, her eyes brimming with tears. "Just they each took a savage turn ruining me. Each one worse than the one before. I left my body sometime between the third or fourth. The pain between my leg from their inhuman thrusting and arms from them pinning me down and my face from their brutal blows when I wouldn't cooperate was enough to kill me. So I just…escaped the present. Astin and John were the worst of them all…" Rachel trailed off. "I won't make you listen to the rest," she said looking away. "They left me to die like a dog in the street. They stumbled away laughing and teasing Astin about having to find a new bride and he responded with some nonsense about needing patience first," she said angrily. Rachel took several deep breathes, collecting herself, before continuing, "I waited in the street to die. It started to snow as I lie there; body wracked with pain just waiting impatiently for death. Trying to figure out why death didn't' just come and end all my pain," she said quietly.

"Will found me then. He'd smelled the blood and came to investigate. I had never like Dr. Schuester and his wife and her brother, which is who Sam was pretending to be at the time, because they were all prettier than me. Even the men. They didn't mingle so I'd only seen them once or twice," she chuckled lightly. "I swear I'd died when he pulled me from the ground and ran with me because I thought I was flying because of the speed but the pain hadn't stopped so I surely though I'd gone to hell. But then I was in a bright room and it was warm and I felt myself slipping away and something sharp cut into my throat, wrists and ankles. I screamed in shock. I couldn't believe the doctor was hurting me but then the burning started and nothing else mattered. I begged him to kill me. I begged Emma and Sam to kill me too," she said. "Will sat with me holding m handing saying he was sorry and that it would end soon. He told me everything. What he and his family were; what I was becoming. Of course, I didn't believe him. He apologized every time I screamed. I stopped screaming sometimes; it did no good anyway. I would hear the three of them discussing me. Sam was angry but ultimately understood why Will made the decision he did, as did Emma. When I was finally strong enough they explained to me what I was. I believed them because of the thirst I felt. And that shallow side of me reared up but settled nicely after seeing my reflection. I was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen," she laughed without humor. "But it wasn't long before I began to see that my beauty was my curse and that if I was more normal looking like Rosalie then none of this would have happened to me and I could've married someone who love me for me. It still doesn't seem too much to ask," she said softly.

"You know, my record is almost as clean as Will's," she said triumphantly. "Better than Emma and a thousand times better than Sam. I've never tasted human blood," she announced proudly.

"I don't understand. Almost clean?" I questioned.

"I did murder five humans," she told me, "if you can call them human. I was very careful not to spill their blood. I didn't want part of them in me, you see," she explained. "I saved Astin for last. I hoped that he would hear of his friends' deaths and understand, know, what was coming for him. I hoped the fear would make the worse for him. I think it worked. He was hiding in some windowless room, behind a thick vault like door and armed guards outside when I caught up with him. Oops, seven murders. I forgot about the guards. They only took a second," she laughed. "I was a bit theatrical back then. It was kind of childish, really. I wore a wedding dress I'd stolen for the occasion. He screamed a lot that night but saving him for last made it easier to control myself and make it take longer…" she glanced at me. "Am I frightening you?"

"I'm fine," I told her. "I'm sorry that happened to you. It wasn't your beauty, Rachel. It was those cretins with the inability to control themselves in a group setting."

"Thank you," she smiled. "I know that now. I've come a long way since then. I'm still surprised Sam didn't tell you. He really is quite decent, isn't he?"

"I think so."

"Thank you for sharing your story with me," I told her.

"You're welcome. I have a question for you," she said.

"Shoot," I said.

"Has Sam told you why I've been so unfair to you?" she asked.

"No."

"It was…jealously."

"But…Finn," I murmured.

"No, no. Ew. I think of Sam as a brother but his lack of interest in me at first threw me, so when you show up and take all his interest I was angry," she explained.

"Why just at first?" I questioned.

"He never showed interest in any woman. Not even when we met Mary's Clan in Denali – all those females! He never showed any preference. Then you showed up," Rachel told me.

Denali Clan? All those women? I'm 10,000% positive they were on him like bologna on cheese but he didn't want them. That shit is like extra lives to the self-esteem.

"Not that you aren't pretty, Mercedes. I just meant him finding you more attractive got my vanity riled up," she explained.

"I get it. It's cool as long as your jealousy is gone," I said.

"Done and dusted," she smiled.

"But you still don't like me, huh?" I asked.

"I'm sorry about that," she said softly. We stood silent for a few long moments.

"Would you tell me why?" I inquired. "Did I do something?"

"No. You haven't done anything. Not yet," she said gazing over the trees.

"Huh?"

"Don't you see, Mercedes?" she said impassioned. "You already have everything. You have a whole life ahead of you – everything I want. And you're going to just throw it away. Can't you see that I'd trade everything I have to be you? You have the choice that I didn't have and your choosing wrong! I'm sorry. I was sure I could do this calmer. It's harder now with vanity not being the issue.

"Would you like me more if I changed my mind?" I asked.

"Maybe," she smiled crookedly. I laughed.

"But you got that happy ending. You got Finn," I told her.

"I got half. I saved Finn from a bear that was mauling him and well you've seen him. All smiles and dimples. He reminded me of Jasper so much. I couldn't let him die," Rachel said. "But with Finn and I got better than I deserved. Finn is exactly everything I want. He's all I could ever ask for and he feels the same about me but it will only ever be us two," she said sadly. "I'll never sit on a porch somewhere, gray-haired with Finn, surrounded by our grandchildren. But that sounds bizarre to you, doesn't it?" she asked.

"I guess," I said.

"In a lot of ways you are more mature than me at 18. But you've never looked at life seriously. You're too young to know what you're gonna want in five, 10, 15 years and too young to just give it all up. Don't be rash in permanent things, Mercedes," she said gently brushing my hair off my shoulder. "Just think about it a little. What's done is done."

"Thank you for allowing me to get to know you better, Rachel," I said, "but you're wrong. I have thought about this. Measured the pros and cons and I've made my decision. I think that if you embraced the life that you have now with Finn, the full life, you'd be happier and understand where I'm coming from," I told her. "You love Finn completely?"

"More than I love myself," she answered.

"Then we're on the same page," I said. "Sam and I need each other and I will not force him to face all the ages of this world alone," I said honestly. "I hope you understand," I said squeezing her hand before going back inside the house. We weren't friends yet but I'm pretty sure she won't always hate me.