Hi guys! Long time no see. Yeah, that's kind of my fault - or better, my Internets fault. (Always blame it one the Internet.) No, seriously, it kind of broke down and I had my story standing on this site, so I couldn't go on. But now I saved it on my computer - praying my ever loving siblings won't find out 'cause I'm never going to hear the end of that - and I wrote you a new chapter.
Which sucks.
Big time.
Let's say I'm horrible at writing angst, and the chapter... Well, yeah, no spoilers. Just read.
Thanks for reviewing Alex B. Goode (and welcome to you), Damselindestress98 (can I call you my fan, and oh, yes, I'll definitely think about her and Hunter - next chapter is for you!), Rosepotter123 (I'm so glad you like MC - OC's usually really irritate me, so I'm glad that's not the case with you) and of course AceinWonderLand (I have read your stories, actually - there might be some Huntbastian, though some Hunclaire too).

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, and the quotes above the chapters belong to the show. I do not own the songs. I do own the main character, though.

Song(s) used: None again. It's a bit useless... But next chapter, I'm quite sure there will be a song. :-)

Thanksgiving

"You can't change your past. But you can let go and start your future."

Once people graduated and then were reunited with their old classmates – the same who once bullied them, got them pregnant, slapped them, ignored them and thousand others things like that – they tended to forget about the past and act like one big happy family.

The alumni from McKinley High were no different.

Singing a cheesy song together, making some half joking half serious comments, waving a bit awkwardly, embracing each other and finally joining the group hug – very predictable. Of course, there were other sides to their actions. The singing was actually quite good, the commenting was enjoyable enough, the waving was done by the most hottest girls she had ever seen and thus got a pass, the embracing and group hugging was a greeting.

Marie-Claire wouldn't go all Smythe about it.

The auditorium had become one of the only places where she could quietly sit and think. In Dalton, there was nowhere to find peace – the all boys school was always filled with happy, overenthusiastic schoolboys jumping around the place, never shutting their mouths. Even in the room of Sebastian the Warblers tended to break in. Every public place was – well, public, so that immediately was crossed off the list. McKinley Highs only option had first seemed the library, but the was no silence to find there. It was even worse than at Dalton, and she was talking about the place where the Warblers could burst into a song, dance on furniture, break things and the teachers would still enjoy the performance.

She'd settled for the auditorium. Of course, there were occasions when the space wasn't fit to be her mind palace – during auditions or random Glee club performances – but it usually did the job. Today, she had been glad she had been there, resting. Marie-Claire's days had been exhausting. Helping the Warblers to a Sectionals win was quite hard and due a water balloon fight between some Warblers the teachers patrolled more than usual, so she had to be careful to keep hiding. Even with her tiredness, she was glad that she hadn't missed the performance from the alumni.

Slowly, though, she got out of the auditorium – she had this feeling her habit of spying on people was becoming a bit too frequent. It certainly had its advantages, but since there was quite some lack of privacy for the others, she tried to keep it in control. The brown haired girl wandered through the hallways without any destination in mind. Sebastian was the one picked her up today, which meant she had to stay longer at McKinley High, since he had lacrosse training.

"MC!"

The voice was familiar. She turned around with a knowing smile, instantly congratulating herself on getting the person right. No one else than cheerleader bitch Santana Lopez came walking towards her, together with the bunch alumni's. The movements of the dark haired Latina were easy to read. Claire hesitated for a second. She never hugged. Okay, she was hugged – the Warblers and Blaine, technically a Warbler too, due the 'once a Warbler, always a Warbler' rule, hugged her. But no one else.

The Smythe stepped forward and embraced the cheerleader, smiling slightly.

"Hi," she greeted her casually. The two had grown to be something alike to friends. It obviously had started when Santana helped her when she was ill and it escalated a bit more when Marie-Claire helped the Latina with her hair for Grease, but it really was confirmed after she had seen the phone number in her contact list. They had started to send each other occasional texts, sometimes with photo's, other times with random comments. Befriending on Facebook was a next step, then came hugging each other in McKinley Highs hallways.

"You look tired," Santana noticed instantly.

She shrugged. "Warblers. They're a bunch children and than ten times worse."

"Warblers?" the pretty blonde asked. Marie-Claire recognized her as Quinn, the cheerleader who had all the boys falling for her and a legend amongst the newbie's from Coach Sylvester. "As in, the Warblers, the New Directions mortal enemies?"

"Very nice way of voicing it," Claire smirked. "Yeah, those."

"Guys, this is Marie-Claire Smythe," Santana introduced her.

Ah, the reactions to those few words.

Puck – already having moved over to her – hugged her quite quickly, probably still in the whole reunion mood. Finn just looked very confused – at least, she thought he was confused, but his facial expression didn't differ much from its usual state – between her, Santana and Puck. Quinn looked a bit dismayed, but apparently gave her a chance, smiling at her. Mercedes raised an eyebrow and put her hands in her side and Mike followed the reactions like herself, without any particular expression on his face.

"Wait, how do you all knew each other?" Hudson finally asked.

Marie-Claire smirked. "Long stories – both of them. Lets just say Puckerman knocked me down on the floor, I got him crying, then we drank coffee. Lopez – well, I was eavesdropping, I was ill, I was being picked up by my bro, she played a role in that."

"Your brother is Sebastian?" Mike wanted to know for certain.

"He left quite an impression," she noticed, rolling her eyes. "Everyone remembers him."

"He put one of our friends in hospital. You don't forget that easily," Mercedes pointed out.

Santana sighed, already knowing where this was going, just as all of the others. "Look, MC, we're going to Breadstix. Want to join us?" she offered.

The others were quite angry with that offer. "No way," Mercedes shook her head. "Look, you might not be your brother, but –"

"Calm down, jeez…" she groaned. "Sorry, San, got other plans. My fantastic brother is about to show his face around here. I'm going to make sure he gets out of here alive, then we're probably going to catch a coffee at Lima Bean," she explained.

Santana nodded. "Right. I'll keep these guys away from Smooth Criminals pretty face. Take care of yourself, MC. I see you around." She stepped forward and the girls hugged again. The Smythe smiled and said goodbye to the others, watching them leave.

"Very touching."

"Seb."

"MC."

"How long were you here?"

"Since Sha-Queer-Ah."

"Spy."

"Nope – no need to."

"I spy for you guys?"

"Check."

"Come on, coffee."

The downsides of throwing a slushy in the face of your lovingly brother was that you never trusted him to give you a drink the normal way after. It had been worth it, though. After the cold liquid in his face, Sebastian had chased her out of Scandals, effectively removing her out of Eli's eyesight, knowing that a guy wouldn't take it so well when he was punched in the face, seemingly without reason. As soon as they were outside, the siblings had started a wild chase through some dark alleys, past some homeless and junkies. Surprisingly, they hadn't been killed, so eventually they decided not to push fate and head back to Dalton.

At least the Warblers had enjoyed the story why Sebastian had come home with a face on thunder, furious eyes and wet hair. It had ended up in Marie-Claire being carried to the choir room and being serenaded, though there was nothing new to that.

She took the coffee from her brother, smiled slightly and looked expectantly at him when he slid down the couch, concentrating on his drink. When he pulled the green eyed distant look, she knew there was something he needed to tell her. "Seb?"

"Father called me." He looked straight at her.

She swallowed. "So?" she wanted to know.

"He wanted to know if I have heard from you," Sebastian explained.

"And have you?" She took a sib from her coffee and burned her tongue.

He put the coffee down and looked at his hands. "Yes."

She raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You're okay, you have a roof above your head, you don't want anything to do with father."

"Fair enough."

They remained silent for a while, drinking their coffee.

"He wants to see you."

She lounged forward, almost spitting coffee out, then looked with wide eyes at her brother. "He – what?" she whispered sharply. "The fucking bastard. Beats and kicks me like I'm a punching bag and then he wants me back when I once show him I'm a person too. Fucking stupid bloody damn –"

"I told him I agree."

She shut her mouth immediately.

Sebastian tried to look at her, she knew. But she avoided his look, instead focused on the coffee in her hand. Damp came off the cup. She closed her eyes, pressed her right hand against her forehead, but the touch was warm and not cooling, as she longed for.

"What did you tell him?" she asked, despite having perfectly understood his words.

"I told him I agree," Sebastian repeated.

She raised, leaving her coffee, walking away.

"Is this how you do it? You face everyone, everything. You do it for yourself, sometimes for others. But once it comes down to just you and your family, you run?" he called after her.

She stopped, being fully aware of the whole Lima Bean listening. Her hands clenched to fists, she spoke up. "You know what the funny thing about family is? You're bonded. Friends, you choose yourself, you let down yourself. They are free from you and once you abandon them, there is nothing concrete to remind them. But family? It's ironic. Whether you want it or not, you are bonded with them. And most of the time, that's exactly what you don't want. Once you leave them, you'll still be bonded. You have the same blood flowing through your body. And you know what? I'm done with Howard. He is family, we have the same blood, we are bonded. But once I make the choice to leave him, it only hits him. And it hits him hard. He might have the name to be my fucking father, but he'll never be anything. So don't you make him something."

"Why do you run from me?"

She turned around now. "Listen, Seb." Seb – she slipped. His nickname, the shorter version of Sebastian. She didn't want to leave him, she just didn't know. She felt betrayed, she wanted him to feel betrayed. But words were treacherous, and they had left her. Only using his nickname was admitting weakness. "I don't want to see him, have a nice pity party. When I see him, I won't wince, or cry, or run, or do any of those pathetic things. I will kick him in the balls, smash some teeth out of his filthy mouth and then turn away without caring."

"I won't ask you to do anything else. What do you think? I want to do that as badly as you."

"So why don't you? I won't stop you."

"It won't fix anything."

"And since when did you start caring about that? I just want to see him in pain, that's all."

"I'm supposed to care about it. You're being irrational and ignorant."

"Oh, what, suddenly I'm your little sister who can't take care of herself?"

"You are my little sister!"

"And I have taken care of myself my whole life! You don't suddenly need to protect me from all the dangers in the world when I already know them, when I already have faced them! Hell, have you been beaten up by Howard? No. Have you been send to Mc-fucking-Kinley High to study with some morons? No."

"I'm goddamn the closest with as a parent –"

"You're my brother, bastard!"

"Cut the crap, MC, it's my job to take care of you. You're a teenager, you should be acting like one."

"I'm doing a pretty damn good job right now, am I not?"

"Yes! And you just have to realize we're fucking wanting the same!"

"I – what?"

"You want to beat up our father, I want to beat up our father. Any difference?"

"You just wasted all that time telling me – ah, I don't even know what."

"You didn't listen."

"Not really."

"You didn't remember."

"Exactly."

"But we're on the same line?"

"How?"

"Beating up dad, you acting as a teenager, being irresponsible –"

"Wasn't that the point, didn't I have to be …"

"…"

"…"
"I don't really get our fight anymore."

"Me neither."

"Well, at least the tension has faded. Lets go to Dalton."

The siblings turned towards the last speaker. Trent came walking toward them, together with Meatbox and Flint. Nick and Jeff were busy in the back, trying to – well, practically rape a jukebox. Thad and David were retrieving the coffees of the Smythes, while brother and sister looked around, not even having realized they had moved over to the middle of the Lima Bean in all their fury.

"You needed to let go some tension," Flint added unnecessary. He patted Sebastian on the back, smiling slightly. "We were almost getting worried, you pacing around the whole time, figuring what to do with your little sister."

"It didn't help one of the teachers found out," Meatbox added.

Marie-Claire groaned. "What? You could have told me."

"It's dealt with," David announced.

Thad nodded. "Sebastian did some blackmail work."

"Basically showing proof of our teacher –"

"- sleeping with someone –"

"- who definitely isn't her husband –"

"- though I'm sure that proof is fake –"

"- it did work."

Niff had joined the party.

Sebastian and Marie-Claire looked at each other, desperate to find something that wasn't abnormal in the situation. The latter tried to put things in an order. First coffee, then a useless fight that ended up in the Warblers saying Sebastian needed to fight. With other words…

"Total waste of time, this," she concluded.

"Yes. To the cars," Sebastian agreed.

Jeff chuckled. "Nice, sounds like some kind of movie."

"To the ships! Or something like that," Nick nodded.

"Or 'to the horses'," Jeff added.

"Shut up!" David and Thad exclaimed, while Trent just rolled his eyes.

The group headed outside. There was a large car waiting in front of the door. Sebastian rolled his eyes and walked towards his own car, Marie-Claire following him – but not without looking curiously in the waiting car. Inside sat Hunter, drumming on the steering wheel. He saw her watching and smiled smugly. She just raised her eyebrows – though she didn't show it, she was impressed. He never seemed the kind of person who cared, but perhaps he was more like Sebastian than she thought. Actually being a human-being, that is.

Most of the guys slipped in the car of Hunter, while Nick and Jeff followed Marie-Claire towards Sebastians car. Walking between the two boys, seeing the guys entering the car of their captain, hearing her brother opening a door for her, she suddenly felt happy. It wouldn't matter whether she faced her father or not, her departing from home had resulted in getting friends. And because of Howard she had left home. Perhaps he had done something right.

In his own, twisted way.

Sectionals was closing in.

Everyday, the Warblers practiced, and she watching, sometimes commenting on their moves, other days just sitting quietly, feeling the nervous glances of 'her' guys on her, while she left them in agony, not knowing if they did it right. She was the audience – and the only thing they needed to amuse was the audience, so she was their queen.

Hunter did not like that.

The guys listened better to the fourteen – almost fifteen – year old girl than to him, the captain of the Warblers. Though this was quite amusing for Marie-Claire, Hunter wasn't that happy. And this was exactly what Sebastian and his sister liked. They were fully aware of the irritations of the former military schoolboy and enjoyed it – Sebastian because he still held quite a grudge against Hunter for stealing his position, Marie-Claire because Hunter still looked down on her.

There were good and bad days. Sometimes, when David and Thad didn't listen, when Trent couldn't synchronize with the others, when Nick hadn't slept enough or when Jeff – Jeff of all people – failed to learn a move, Sebastian and Hunter considered blackmail. But it was Claire who told them each time that they would be fine, that blackmail wouldn't be needed. She had broken her bonds with the New Directions – they were practically avoiding her, believing her to be a spy – but she still didn't want to betray them that much. There was something in her that had grown fond of the show choir, though she didn't want to admit it.

Three.

Two.

One.

Sectionals.

Sectionals was when all hell broke loose.

A composition of thoughts

Whistle, Live while you're young. Two songs about sex sang by guys in blazer. Can it be more fitting?

Good, Hunter in the front – wait, why did Jeff switch from place? Okay, it could work.

I hate this song.

God, Hunter, look less smug. And don't stare at me.

Pull the blazer, pull the blazer, pull – yes! Nice. Everyone loves blazers.

Back flip, back flip, come on, do it right… Nice! Crowd goes crazy.

I hate this song.

Ending, close to each other, moving back in position – good.

One Direction. Why did it have to be One Direction?

Go Sebby.

How can five teenage boys make a song about sex?

Wait. Sebastian could do that.

Weird moves. Somehow fitting – way to go Bas.

Jeff, smile. Smile, Jeff.

Holy crap, did Bas try to copy Blaine with his hair? Too much. I have to steal his gel.

Enthusiastic Warblers. Energetic. The judges will love this.

I hate this song.

Good, Nick made Jeff smile.

They should have chosen songs I like.

Active dancing. In a row. Bit of spinning around. Smiling. Waving ties and blazers. Everything works.

Wait, Hunter probably choose these songs to piss me off.

Niff, your glances during this song reveal your not-so-secret relationship.

Ending.

Smile, guys.

Good.

Nice, everyone is blow away. Good job Warblers.

Oh, yes, applause. Standing ovation. Awesome.

She felt secondhand embarrassment during the performance of the New Directions.

Perhaps it was because of the arrogant chuckling of Hunter or the smirk of Sebastian. Or just because David, Thad and Trent didn't know how to respond, or because of the uncontrolled laughing of Flint, or the grin of Meatbox behind his hand, or the lack of interest from Nick. Or because of Jeff, who genuinely liked the performance.

Yes, it was probably because of Jeff.

She was rudely shaken out of her mind when the audience gasped. Some people shrieked.

Her green eyes immediately scanned the stage – only to find out that whatever was wrong and with whomever, she couldn't know. The New Directions formed a circle around the person. Desperately, she tried to recognize something of the fallen. It wasn't one of the guys – right? No, wait, where were Jake and Ryder? She glanced at the alumni in the box in front of them. They moved towards the stage. She should move to.

On automatic pilot, she raised.

Sebastian looked at her, tried to stop her, but Trent immediately grabbed her brother and pulled him back, whispering something in his ear. The Smythe let his younger sister pass. Jeff followed her, gave her some information, but she didn't know what. Why was everything suddenly so blurred?

A hand grabbed her around her wrist.

She turned around. Hunter.

His eyes pierced her. "It was the brown haired girl, the soprano – Rose."

"Marley," Marie-Claire realized. She nodded at the captain of the Warblers, then started to move towards the stage, but immediately knew she couldn't go there. There were already people blocking the passage to the podium. She needed to get backstage – Marley was being carried out of sight. She turned towards the exit.

In the hallway, she suddenly felt freed. The air was colder, fresher. She breathed in. Why did it go wrong? Where did it go wrong? She left. She couldn't know – she didn't know, because she left. There was something wrong with Marley. No shit Sherlock. Think. She hadn't talked to the girl. Not that much. Yes, when school had just started, they met, they talked, she even helped Marley a bit. They gave each other a chance. But somehow, it had stopped when Marley joined the New Directions.

She groaned.

Her thoughts were going too fast.

Why did she care anyways? It wasn't like Marley was one of her best friends or something. Maybe that was the point. She didn't have best friends. She had Sebastian, but that was family. And even though the Warblers were a good bunch of friends, they didn't truly know her. The same was with the other few people she had started to consider friends. Something in her longer for a friend in the true meaning. Some suppressed, pathetic part in her heart. A part she'd better ignore.

She slowed down.

Ignore. Ignore.

Who was she kidding?

Who had she been kidding the whole time? Only Sebastian saw through her, because he was exactly the same. They were sons of a bastard, they were selfish, independent assholes. They didn't want to care about others, even though they did. And when they did, it was for just a few people – and it wasn't just something. It hadn't been 'just something' with Blaine. And it wasn't with the Warblers. It wasn't with Blaine and Marley and Santana and even Puck.

Headache.

Her thoughts were really going too fast.

She needed to get outside. Backstage wouldn't work. She couldn't possibly run in there. And even if she managed to do that, she wouldn't be much of a help. Marie-Claire pressed her clammy hand against her forehead and started to make her way outside.

The cold grip on her arm came out of nowhere.

"I knew I would be able to find you here," a voice whispered in her ear.

She shook with terror, desperately tried to pull herself out of the grip, but the man didn't give in. He gripped harder into her arms, leaving prints in her skin.

"I have been waiting for you, but you didn't come. Sebastian did tell you, right? I want to speak with you, Claire," he said, almost pleadingly. "Look, I know it was wrong to push you around…"

"Push me around?!" she repeated frantically, high pitched. "Damn, Howard, if I didn't knew better, I would think you were trying to kill me. But you were kept from doing that, because you otherwise wouldn't have anyone to beat up!" she screamed.

Howard Smythe flinched. "I didn't –"

"O fucking hell, don't try to look for an excuse. I won't come back."

"I want you to, Marie-Claire. A new start, please," Howard begged. "It wasn't my intention to hurt you. It all just became too much. I couldn't take it anymore, I didn't know what I was doing, I was on the alcohol, I –"

"Spare your breath. It isn't worth it," she responded, trying to calm herself. Her heart was pounding heavily, her breathing was going too fast. The grip on her arm was as iron and she couldn't seem to get herself out of it without hurting her father. Though she wouldn't have a problem with that, she was scared what it could provoke. Somehow, all her fear had come back. Nothing had freaked her out more than this moment, when her father had actually gone looking for her. "You're already hurting me now," she pointed out. "You were hardly on the alcohol. Okay, yes, you drank it, but you were never drunk enough to not know what you were doing." She took a breath. "I believe it…" her voice broke. There were no tears, but the lump in her throat was present. Very present. "I want to believe it when you say you didn't intent to hurt me, when you say you want a new start." Another breath. "But I can't."

"Claire –"

"Don't. Don't call me Claire. You're not my father anymore. Please, let me go…" she spoke so softly. A part of her was embarrassed. She never, ever, had shown so much vulnerability towards her father.

He didn't let go, though.

She prepared herself for the worst, clenching her hands to a fist. Instead of aiming for his jaw, which would have been a good place, her punch ended up on her chest. It did nothing but angering her father. Marie-Claire then hit the arms he was holding her with. Finally, he let go.

She jumped backwards, seeing her father charging towards her, anger evident in his eyes. So much anger. As a fire it burned and she wouldn't be able to escape.

"Go away!" she screamed.

"MC!"

Sebastian sprinted towards her. She looked at him with panic in her eyes.

"Seb…" she whispered.

The hits came in an instant. Her father had seen Sebastian, but he apparently didn't care. He wanted to punish her for refusing his offer. She felt his punches, his kicks. One to her head left her crumbling to the ground. She couldn't see properly.

Suddenly, it stopped.

With dazed eyes, she looked up. Sebastian stood in front of her, facing his father.

"Don't, dad. What… What are you doing?"

He was trembling. He had never seen their father like this.

Unlike her.

"Sebastian, 'Bastian, 'Bastian… GET AWAY!" she shouted.

The look in Howard Smythe's eyes was too familiar. Way too familiar.

He again reached forward, grabbed Sebastian forcefully by his neck, hauling him slightly up – but the man was no bodybuilder and his son, though he was light and slim, was too heavy for his arms. Sebastian crashed into a wall, the fingers of his father digging into his skin. He tried to breathe, but couldn't get air. Marie-Claire struggled to get up, seeing her brother slowly weakening, his protests lessening. Their father didn't seem to realize what he was doing.

Sebastian became redder, opened his mouth and then closed it.

"Howard…" she whispered.

"Father." A bit stronger.

"Dad!" A shout.

He didn't respond to her.

Sebastian tried to hit him, but he was too weak. He was suffocating, and she didn't even have to strength to stand up. Her brother rapidly became weaker. Howard, controlled and blinded by his anger, smashed his sons head into the wall a few times. Sebastian started to loose consciousness.

She shook her head.

His eyes slowly closed.

"No. No. No no no…" she whispered, trying to stand body refused.

"SEBASTIAN!"