I truly apologize for the lack of updating on this story. I recently started a new job and the early hours of waking up at 4:30 in the morning every day has slowly gotten to me. Now I'm in the swing of things and updates will go back to one every day. I thank you all for your patience and do enjoy this chapter!

The silence is almost deafening. How can two people go from kissing; feeling that ultimate urge that ripples between them, to being coldly silent with one another? Rachel's mind spins with questions that beg to be asked, while Quinn is oddly quiet; sedate, calm, unthinking.

And then everything blows up.

It was only a matter of time until Rachel found out. Who had told her? Mike? No. He'd never betray her trust. But if he had…? No. Had she been that obvious? Well, of course, the exhaustion could be seen from across a crowded room; how could Rachel, her mate, the only one who knows her inside and out, not notice?

Rachel Berry always knew what was going on and if it was to do with Quinn, she always seemed to just know. How could she keep something from her? They were mated, bonded; they had that invisible tether that only they could feel and see. Keeping something from Rachel Berry was practically impossible; she always found out sooner or later.

"What are you talking about?" She asks, simply because it's a safe reply. She's not angry, but she's not happy either. She can't get angry; her wolf can't get angry. Although her control is better, she's not strong enough to pull back a wolf with a wounded pride.

"Don't lie to me. Why don't we save ourselves the hassle and just be truthful?"

Quinn's eyes narrow, almost as a reflex, before she has the chance to stop them. She so wants to talk this out, calmly and without confrontation, but her wolf, it growls dangerously. A warning.

"It'd help if I knew what you were talking about."

Her wolf begins to assert itself over her psyche. Her human side wishes to talk it through, but that's all it is; a wish, a futile pointless wish that won't come true no matter how hard she tries. Her human side, her logical side, is slowly evaporating. Like water into gas. It's going, it's just a matter of time until it all disappears into nothingness.

"Quinn," Rachel sighs, almost tiredly, her hand moving up to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. She's as calm as can be, although hurt, deep down inside, locked and sealed away. She's hurt from the lying, the espionage, but especially with the fact that she had been sat there, day in, day out, talking about college and their apartment. She knew she had the money for college, having two well off parents helped, and a scholarship on top of that gave her a free ride. She didn't take the time to sit and wonder if Quinn had the money. Even if she hadn't given the money towards Michael Hunter's medical bills, she only had $17,000 right? That wasn't even enough for a year… "Explain to me how you were planning on going to New York with only the money for one term?"

"I…" Her voice cracks. It actually cracks. What would she say? She could say her girlfriend, her mate, is delusional, but what would that solve? Rachel knew how much money she had; It'd come from her own mouth, she couldn't exactly turn around and out rightly deny what she'd said all along. How would that make her feel? One of the main things that built the very foundation their trust was built on, was just a lie? So she takes the time to clear her throat and says, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Her wolf howls at the protection of it's pride, but winces soon after; the realization that yet again, its mate is being lied to. To protect itself it lies, but hurts its very own mate in retaliation. A vicious circle. It's not suppose to happen. She's meant to protect, not hurt.

Rachel feels the lie. It seems to seep into her skin, it sticks, just like a bad smell. It hurts, it hurts too much; she really gave herself to a compulsive liar? A woman and a wolf. Two different beings that she thought she knew.

"You do." She pauses, but only for a few seconds, just enough time for the two simple words to sink in. "You do know what I'm talking about. You told me yourself that you gave $15,000 to Michael and that you had $2000 left over." Just talking about Michael still makes her sick to her stomach. "That means you only had $17,000. That won't even pay for one year at NYU. What were you expecting to do?"

She didn't mean for her words to become heated, but the sheer thought of Quinn trying to get to NYU with only $17,000 and then renting an apartment too, just completely dumbfounds her. It's utter madness.

"I mean, I thought the $17,000 was for rent and books and supplies but…that was all the money you had to go to New York with?"

"I wasn't planning to go to New York before you found out I was a wolf, Rachel." She sounds so utterly tired, and all she can do is rub her eyes, fighting off the sting; the pain of exhaustion. "My parents didn't save as much because they thought I'd get a scholarship and with that, I was only planning to go to OSU."

Rachel shakes her head softly, in disbelief, "Then why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me you didn't have enough money for NYU or New York for that matter?"

"I'll find a way to New York."

"Oh, Quinn…" She whimpers, because the hurt cuts her deep. From the very beginning she knew. She'd known but she'd refused to see the bigger picture. Quinn knew she didn't have the right amount as soon as they got closer. She just refused to acknowledge it; she just kept pushing the thought away until it became an insignificant memory. And it worked.

"You shouldn't worry," Quinn fleetingly says with the flick of her left hand, "I'm working for the money. I'll have it."

But there's something in Quinn's eyes that tell Rachel different. It might be the exhaustion that clouds those usually bright hazel eyes, but for the first time in years, Quinn Richards is no longer an enigma because Rachel Berry can see straight through her.

"No you won't. Do you really think working for both Santana and McDonald's is going to get you to New York?"

Quinn hesitates and shifts from foot to foot, brow knitted in what seems to be contemplation. But it's only seconds before Quinn gives her reply. A resounding, "Yes." Filled with fake assurance.

"You'll die of exhaustion before you even get to New York." And she will, because it's just shy of a month and Quinn already looks dead on her feet. And Rachel knows that Quinn needs more rest and more downtime than anyone else, simply because her wolf saps that much energy just being contained inside.

"An Alpha usually eats twice as much than a normal wolf, it's common practice."

"Are you even eating normally? You know you need to eat." Rachel steps forward, slowly, hesitantly, "You're killing yourself to reach an unreachable goal, Quinn." She's only inches away, fingertips almost touching a pale white forearm, "Let me help you."

Wrong move.

Quinn's body freezes instantly and within the blink of an eye she's closing off, backing away, defences rising and gloves officially coming off.

And Rachel doesn't know why.

"I don't need your help, Rachel. I can do this on my own. I can get the money on my own. I can deal with this on my own."

But she can't. She really can't. She's so utterly exhausted, her nerves are frayed and all she wants to do is curl up in a ball and just weep. But that's her human side. Her wolf side just drives her to keep going; to keep working and never stop until she has what she needs. It's a 50/50 struggle; a battle with no end in sight. Her wolf refuses to see or feel the exhaustion that's engulfing its human form, because it's not natural; it's not an Alpha's way.

"All you do is lie to me…" Rachel whispers, voice shaking with barely contained emotion, "Is this what I have to endure to be with you, Quinn? Because all you're doing is pushing me away. Push me too far and I won't come back."

It's an empty threat, but a threat nonetheless. The Alpha feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand on edge and almost as if she can see into her own mind, her wolf stands there, body primed, every muscle tense, teeth bared. It doesn't want to attack. No, far from it. It's just filled with an uncontrollable heated rage at the thought of Rachel walking away.

But she won't. They're mates. They're bonded.

"You won't walk away. I marked you, remember?" She doesn't mean to sound smug, but the tone seeps through with every passing word.

"You may have marked me, but I still have my own free will." She'll still have the mark, that permanent mark that'll mar her skin for the rest of her life. And her next partner will look at it when they first make love and ask why she has it. She'll make up some elaborate lie and when they finally do make love to her, that urge to feel Quinn above her, will become too much to bare. She'll fake it, or come from imagining her former mate. She'll plaster on a smile when she gets married, wishing it was Quinn's finger she was sliding that ring onto. She'll have children and always wonder if they'd have had hazel or brown eyes. She'll grow old and she'll die, still reliving that feeling of teeth digging into her skin, marking her, loving her.

And she'd do it.

"I deserve better than the lies. I may not be as strong as you but I'm still a part of this relationship. I still deserved to be treated as an equal. I may only be a human, Quinn, but so are you."

"What's your point?"

"My point is, you may be an Alpha, but you're still a woman. You're still human. You need to turn to people for help, it's what we do."

"It's not what I do." Quinn replies bluntly. It's the truth. Alpha's never ask for help, they always deal with their own problems, on their own. An Alpha, although the leader of it's pack, is naturally a loner. A lone wolf. How apt a saying. Asking or requesting for help is the ultimate disgrace, aside from losing in a fight. She should be strong enough to deal with her own problems and protect her pack. If she asked for help, what kind of leader would that make her? A weak one. "It's a sign of weakness."

Rachel stares, eyes wide, mouth agape. Her hair shines under the bright harshness of the choir room lights, her entirely too tight jeans and shirt fit her body to a tee; melted to every curve and screamed perfection. Quinn, on the other hand, wore ratty jeans and a hoodie. Her hair no longer shone but fell limply against her face. Her usually pale skin felt chalky and pasty against her. She was an unknown. Even to herself.

But then Rachel laughs, and both Quinn and her wolf see red.

"Are you kidding me right now?" Then the laughter stops and Rachel sobers instantly. Quinn just waits, silently. "If you honestly think that asking people for help is a bad thing you truly need to re-evaluate. It's a fact of life. Even the strongest of people need others to rely on, and that includes you. Asking for help isn't a sign of weakness, it's a sign of strength. Your parents could help you with funds, it's not like they're broke. Is your pride the only reason you won't ask?."

Silence envelops the two teenage girls. Quinn looks to the floor, unable to look in those beautiful brown eyes that shine with a pride and strength that far amasses her own. And Rachel, Rachel just watches, eyes wounded and shining with unshed tears.

"Tell me…" She whispers, barely controlling the trembling of her lower lip, "Is that the only reason you won't ask?"

And Quinn can only whisper back, "Yes."

"Quinn," Rachel sighs, partly in annoyance and partly with relief that there could be a quick fix on the horizon, "Your parents and I won't think any differently of you if you ask for money; everyone needs help at this point in their life. You can't take on the burden of your own misfortune. We all want to help you."

And Quinn can only swallow back the sudden blockage in her throat. She wants to cry. She needs to cry. She wants to collapse under the weight, the burden, she carries on her shoulders, but she won't, she can't; it's not her way.

"It's different for you, Rachel. You're not a wolf. You're not an Alpha."

Then Rachel's eyes narrow and her hand all but grabs Quinn's chin, pulling her face up so their eyes lock. Then, in that movement, the air shifts. The school seems oddly silent. Another deafening silence.

"Then make me a wolf so I can understand."

"So that's the problem?"

"Yeah."

"And what are your thoughts?"

"I don't…really have any."

"It's a huge decision; filled with dangers."

"I know that."

"Then you must be aware that as your mate, it's up to her."

"…This could have been avoided. If she hadn't seen through me, we could have avoided this whole issue."

"Seen through you?"

"It's nothing."

"You're a terrible liar."

"Yeah, that's my downfall, I suppose."

"Would you allow her to become a werewolf?"

"I'm conflicted."

"You want her to be a wolf so your bond is strengthened but then again, you don't, simply because it could kill her."

"…Yeah."

"It's a tough decision. One you must make together."

"Rachel isn't willing to think it through. She isn't willing to see the fact that it could kill her."

"Because the urge to feel what you feel clouds her judgement?"

"Bingo."

"Do you want to know why I chose not to become a werewolf?"

"The threat of death, wasn't it?"

"No, Quinn. I chose to stay human, not because of the threat of my death, but simply because I was afraid I'd lose myself. I was born human, wholly to be human. Werewolves are born werewolves, to be both human and wolf. I was scared I would lose who I was suppose to be. I wasn't willing to become something I wasn't meant to be."

"You chose not to become a wolf, not because your body may not have been able to take it, but because you knew it's who you weren't meant to be?"

"Exactly."

"But how do I make Rachel see that?"

"As her mate, you have to stand by her decision. This is her choice and her choice alone."

"I refuse to let her make a decision she refuses to think through."

"Then you have to stand by her through her downfall, if that so happens."

"Cybil…"

"Any wolf would do the same thing. You're not different."

"All for money…"

"Money?"

"Never mind. It's nothing."

For a werewolf to make a human into one of their own is a simple but traumatic procedure. The change can only be made between two bonded people; a werewolf and human. The bite, the mark that is inflicted when a human is made a mate, that's all it is, a mark. But after a wolf has bonded with its mate, the bite, the next bites, until the change is made, has the opportunity to change them. There's no venom or freaky saliva magic, it's just a simple bite. But this bite has to be deeper; so deep it pierces all layers of skin and muscle. And it must be made over the original mark.

It's so simple but devastating.

A werewolves body, from birth, is infinitely stronger than any human. Their bodies are bread to withstand serious trauma; something that would kill a human, would only wound a wolf. When a human is born, their bodies remain innocent, tender. If their weak bodies were to suddenly undergo the physical and mental stresses that a wolf could easily contend with, it could easily destroy and rip apart a human from the inside. Rarely do humans survive the transformation, and to give a statistic, it would be 15% of cases that survive.

15%. Even 99% wouldn't be enough to sate Quinn's chaotic mind.

She disappears off the radar.

Well, to Rachel that is. She only tells her parents where she's going and asks them to call school and say she's sick and might be off a few days until she's better. She quits both her job at McDonald's and Santana's home because after crunching the numbers once more, she knows she isn't going to be able to get the money in time for the enrollment deadline. It pains her to give up her last shot at going to New York with Rachel. Her last shot at a future that means something.

So she gets in her car and drives. She passes the 'You're now leaving Lima' sign, but barely registers it. It's only when she's on the highway, only the sound of rushing wind beating against her car, does everything finally register.

She breaks down.

And her wolf howls with pain.

Even though she's been told she's part of the family by the head of the household, she still can't believe she's not privy to information such as her girlfriend's whereabouts. It's been a day, a full day since she all but ordered Quinn to turn her and made the girl storm out of the room with hardened eyes, awash with tears barely held at bay.

At first she assumed Quinn wasn't at school that morning because of her job at Santana's, but one small conversation only twenty minutes later with the girl settled that argument. Quinn quit her job without even a reason. And it had Rachel worried. When she wasn't around Quinn, she never knew what could be rushing through her mind. And although an enigma 90% of the time, Rachel couldn't make any sense of Quinn or her thought process' if she wasn't able to see into those hazel eyes that were almost like a window into the soul.

So by lunchtime, when she had seen hide nor hair of her girlfriend, she decided to make a trip to the Fabray household. Although she hated ditching school, if only lunch, the pull she had to see her mate was almost unbearable. None of the Glee Club had seen or heard from the allusive blonde, after all, Rachel is meticulous by nature and she had to make sure it wasn't just Quinn avoiding her.

Finn had heard nothing; in fact, he had the cheek to ask for another overly expensive trip to McDonalds. Brittany just shrugged her shoulders, almost a little sadly before being dragged away by a miffed looking Santana who quoted "not to give a shit." Puck just scratched his head and shrugged. But Tina and Mike, they knew something.

"I swung around to hers last night. She has my Kinect…"

"Okay, I don't know what once of those is, but go on."

"Well, her mom told me she had the flu."

"She didn't look too good yesterday," Tina butts in softly, "She looked really pale in Gym. I asked her if she wanted to go to the nurse, but she said she was fine."

So her girlfriend, who appeared to be healthy, albeit exhausted, suddenly came down with the flu within only a few hours that left her bed ridden and unable to pick up a phone? The whole thing seemed shifty and completely unbelievable.

So when Russell Fabray answers the door on one of his rare days off, does he frown when his daughter's mate all but demands to see Quinn.

"Rachel, I know you're my daughter's mate…and I'd rather not think about that."He grumbles, because even though it was bound to happen, he doesn't really like to think about his baby girl having sex. "But sometimes Quinn needs time on her own to think."

"Think about what? I've done nothing wrong, Russell."

"You know what you did, Rachel." He doesn't sound like he wants to tell her off, but the tone in his voice makes it sound like an accusation. "You asked her to turn you, without even thinking about how it would make her feel."

"But that's the reason I asked! I want to know how she's feeling or what she's thinking because she said I don't understand simply because I'm not a wolf. Is that so wrong? To become a wolf so things become easier for her? For us?"

Russell shakes his head softly, pushing back a blonde tendril that falls across his forehead.

"You didn't ask. You demanded. That's two very different things. You demanded she change you. Do you really know the repercussions of such a drastic change? Have you put any thought into what your friends and family would think? How it would change your future? Or not allow you to have a future at all?"

Rachel blanches, her automatic and well thought out comeback just dying on her tongue. This conversation took a turn that she wasn't anticipating. She knew full well that a werewolf could turn a human; she'd heard that from Cybil Noble. But this? No. Cybil had left out that little titbit of information. No future? What the hell was that suppose to mean?

"What are you talking about?"

Russell just sighs.

Hands resting behind her head, she stares up at the bland white ceiling. Her mind is reeling; whenever she pins one thought down,, more come to attack her. It drives her into a quiet insanity, one that she cannot escape. Thoughts of money, thoughts of Rachel, thoughts of New York, thoughts of her parents, thoughts of taking that one, deep bite over Rachel's mark to turn her. Thoughts of standing by her mate while she feels those first foreign rumblings in her stomach. Thoughts of watching as she transforms into a glorious brown wolf, smart, cunningly smart and strong. Thoughts of brown against gold, hunting as one. Being one with one another. But then it all comes right back down to money.

But then again, does she think that a 15% chance is enough to turn her mate? Utter excitement and happiness when the bite is first taken, but then Rachel collapses, gasping for air, begging, screaming for help. Body tears apart from the inside out, muscles quake and quiver, stomach turns violently, blood seeps and pools crimson on a stark floor, forever staining, forever imprinted. Heart slows, lungs cease, body crippled, can't scream any longer. The life from those brown eyes dying out. A wasted talent. A wasted love. A wasted woman.

No. That thought is too much to bare. No sane person would land their own future on a 15% chance of success. No. There's no way in hell.

Even being away from Lima isn't enough to escape the problems that she faces. Even tucked away in Boston, on her sister's living room couch. All she wants is to get away, and she thought time with her fun loving sister would do that, but no. Nothing works. No matter how hard she tries.

"What do you mean I may not have a future if Quinn turns me?" Rachel asks, simply glancing down at the glass of water Nicholas settles down on his desk before her. Judy is downstairs, on the phone, while she and Quinn's father talk in his study.

Russell sighs and slowly descends into his chair, hands gripping the armrests in quiet desperation.

Although Rachel wasn't of his own blood, since Quinn's marking of her, she might as well be. There's a hidden bond there; surrogate father to a girl that belongs to his family, his pack, who he cares for and adores. He's not vocal about the depth of his care, simply because it's not his way; his father wasn't like that, nor was his grandfather. They're silent, but that doesn't mean they don't care. Rachel, by extension, is his third daughter. And he praises Quinn for her fine taste, because it's an honor to see Rachel as part of his clan. Werewolf or not.

"Before we start, do you know anything about a werewolf transforming a human? Has Quinn told you anything?"

Quinn's mentioned nothing. She's never really spoken about changing Rachel. It was an unspoken subject between them. Of course, she knew Quinn had the power to turn her, but she truly had no idea how difficult the prospect may be. How could it be so difficult? Of course it may hurt; Quinn had told her many a time that transforming hurt and that it had taken her years for her body and mind to become accustomed to it.

"She told me nothing." Then Rachel rolls her eyes, "Which isn't a surprise. She doesn't tell me much these days."

"That's understandable. I live with her and I probably see her a collective of thirty minutes a day…" He falls silent, brow knitted, "I can't even hear her thoughts anymore. She's been closed off for weeks."

"I know why…"

"Have you two been arguing over the transformation? Rachel, it's not a decision to take lightly. It could kill you."

Eyes shut and a collective breath echoes around the room. Russell leans back in his seat, forehead dropped into the palm of his hand, mind racing.

She feels like she isn't breathing, but she is, in and out, the fresh air fills her lungs and leaves with no problem. But her body, it's buzzing with disgust, for herself; no wonder Quinn had run out of the classroom, no wonder she had such a panic ridden expression as she begged to be turned. She should have known, deep down inside she should have known that being turned wouldn't be all sunshine and rainbows. She should have known that Russell never takes anyone into his study unless it was serious. But then again, why should she have known? It's not as if she was brought up to know about werewolves; she didn't learn about them in middle school, or high school for that matter. How could she have known that being turned could end her life?

"How could I have known?" Rachel asks quietly, eyes snapping open to land on the man opposite. It shocks her to see how much he looks like his daughter in that moment; exhausted, broken. "Russell, how could I have known?"

"I raised my daughter better than this," He sighs, dejected, "She had all this time to tell you. She had all this time to sit you down and tell you what could happen…"

Russell Fabray was thirteen years old when he saw his first and last human to werewolf transformation. His uncle, Robert, turned his wife after a year of planning finally brought the day ahead. Russell hadn't meant to drop by, in fact, he was suppose to be at school, but a job painting his uncle's house took him there. He was an avid painter and decorator; a hobby that his uncle pushed him to pursue. He had gone to the house, but receiving no reply and seeing the SUV parked in the driveway, he wandered inside.

Paint cans lined the walls and in his excitement, he began pursuing the different shades, wondering which color would go in which room. He'd managed to put his hand on the last pot of paint when the sounds of hushed conversation, first his uncle's voice, then a soft feminine voice, his wife, Amy's voice, littered downstairs.

"We planned this, Rob. There's no point stalling anymore."

"But…"

"I know…but I want this. I want to be a part of you."

Russell followed the voices, his sneakers softly squeaking on the wooden floors before he slowly ascended the stairs.

All the doors in the hallway were shut, ready to be painted, apart from the door right at the end, his uncle and aunt's bedroom.

The feeling of intruding washed through him, but the urge to know that belonged to anyone his age overpowered it. He followed the voices, quietly making his way to the cracked bedroom door.

Amy was sat on the edge of the bed, eyes following her husband's meticulous pacing. She looked calm, Robert on the other hand, was pale and shaking.

"Rob, you're making this harder than it has to be. I want to do this."

Then the pacing stops and Robert faces his wife. Russell stares at his back as it flexes through the back of his crisp white dress shirt.

He can't hear what they say, voices too low for even Russell to hear. He strains to listen, but it doesn't help. But then his uncle is moving, dropping to his knees before his wife. He takes her hands and softly kisses each individual knuckle and Amy just watches, softly smiling at the clear adoration her husband has for her.

"Please change your mind…" He pleads, lips still brushing the soft skin of her knuckles.

But Amy just shakes her head with the same soft smile and pulls her hands away, unbuckling the silver watch that settles on her left wrist.

Russell sees his aunt's mark; it's small, small enough to be hidden by a watch, but it looks so much more deeper than the one his mother has. His father had told him it was a sign of control; if the bite barely breaks the skin, it proves how in control of your wolf you are. It appears his uncle wasn't in control that much.

Amy extends her arm to her husband, flexing her hand back to expose her wrist. They lock eyes, and with a small nod from Amy, and a bated breath from Russell, Robert grabs his wife's forearm and sinks his teeth deep into her wrist, right over her mark.

The scream sends Russell rocketing back onto his backside, knees bent, feet planted on the ground, arms extended behind him, eyes wide as he watches his uncle's jaw clench down harder on his aunt's wrist. But then he's pulling back, licking the blood from his lips.

Amy is quiet on the bed, but her body shakes slightly, the aftershocks of the pain dissipating from her body.

"Are you okay?" Robert asks, wiping the tears away from his wife's cheeks.

"I…" Amy clears her throat, "I think so." Robert blows out a lungful of air with relief. It'd worked. "When should I feel something?"

"I have no idea…" He frowns, climbing to his feet. "We'll just monitor it carefully. We'll have to be very careful."

Any nods slightly, "Okay." And she climbs to her feet, shakily, brow knitted, "Rob?"

"What? What's wrong?"

"I…I don't kn-,"

And she's screaming, collapsing to the bed as her body visibly fits. She screams for Robert as he jumps on the bed beside her, holding her close.

She opens her mouth to ask if transforming is suppose to be this painful, but instead she coughs, spraying her husband's stark white shirt with a sparkle of red.

"No! This wasn't suppose to happen to us!"

Her blood.

Robert cries, barely heard over the screams and violent thrashing of his wife's body. Blood paints his shirt as he clutches her to his chest. She's in a painful agony, there's no end to it, and there's nothing he can do.

He did this. She demanded and begged to be changed and he couldn't deny his mate. So all he can do is hold her, sobbing and begging for her to live as her body continues to thrash violently on the bed.

"Uncle Robert!" Russell screams, unable to keep quiet any longer, terrified.

Robert's eyes slam to the doorway, to where his nephew sits on the hallway floor, shaking. He sees red instantly and through the tears, through the sounds of his wife's ear piercing screams and the slowing beats of her heart, he screams, "Get the fuck out, Russ!"

His tone is terrifying and Russell doesn't think twice. He clambers quickly to his feet and bolts.

Robert wasn't telling his nephew to leave simply because he wasn't meant to be there, but because he wasn't willing to let him see the death of his aunt. And as Russell bolts down the stairs and across the foyer, kicking over a paint can of pale pink, especially picked by both Amy and Robert for their unborn baby girl, he's left with the agonizing scream of a woman that he adored and the heartbreaking howl of a man and wolf that was losing everything.

"I don't have the right to tell you what to do, that's yours and Quinn's issue."

Rachel sighs, standing from her chair and moving over to the window that overlooks the backyard. The water of the pool ripples gently with the quiet breeze that sifts the trees. How she wishes she could be outside, forgetting everything, all the problems. How she wishes she could see Quinn and just be held.

"Then give me your opinion." Rachel presses her palm against the glass, "You can give me that, right?"

"I'll be stepping on an Alpha's personal business. Unless you want me to be killed?"

Rachel's hand drops from the window, hanging limp at her side as her eyes continue to scan the pool. Ripple after ripple.

"You're her father."

Russell spins his chair to face her, arms crossed over his chest. "I may be her father, but that doesn't change the fact that she's the Alpha of this family. Her wolf will want to fight me for intruding in on its business, and both Quinn and I know she's much stronger than I."

"She'd kill her own father…"

"Wolves are territorial by nature, Alpha's more so. I'm not willing to battle my daughter just because I got involved with her affairs."

Rachel shakes her head in disbelief; she never knew that being an Alpha's mate would be so difficult. Of course she had researched, but research only goes so far. Living in the moment is what gives you the best research. But killing a member of your own family simply because they're offering to help or their opinion? It was disgusting.

It shocks her that Michael Hunter wasn't killed.

"Please Russell…" She pleads, resting her forehead against the cool glass, eyes shut, hot breath fogging, "Just give me something."

Lee McRary watches silently as he chews on a pieces of toast in his family home. His wife, Frannie, stands beside him, sipping on her coffee. Abigail McRary, a beautiful dirty blonde haired girl, sits at the kitchen table, coloring while she shovels chocolate cereal into her small mouth.

"How long will she be here?" Lee asks quietly, hoping not to stir a still sleeping Quinn in the other room.

"Only a few days at the most, she has school, after all." Frannie settles her coffee mug down on the kitchen counter and huffs, "I know you don't like the fact she's here, but she sounded like she really needed a shoulder to cry on."

"It's not that I mind she's here, but instead of looking after her, you should be looking after the baby you're carrying."

"She's my baby sister…" Russell chides, "And soon enough, I'll have to get used to looking after two people, won't I?"

Lee smiles and grins when his wife ruffles his brown hair playfully.

"C'mon, gimme a kiss before I go to work."

And as they kiss, Abigail looks up from her coloring book, milk dripping down her chin and shouts, "Mama and Papa love each'ova!"

It's only a matter of seconds after he's walked in the door after work, a ten hour shift as a computer technician, that his wife rushes up to him, tells him that his daughter is in bed and that his dinner is in the oven, before she races past him, hand clutched around her baby sister's hand as she drags her along. Quinn offers a sheepish look before she's pulled through the front door.

"Uh…" Lee mumbles, scratching the back of his head, "Okay?"

They're at Gulliver Creek, right by the Neposet River Reservation, and stood on a deserted plot of land, only the whirring of passing cars on the expressway filling the odd silence of the night.

"Why are we here?" Quinn asks, pivoting on the balls of her feet to look around. There's nothing, just flat greens and trees.

"Because I want to try something." She drops the bag that she'd pulled out from the backseat of her car and smiles. Quinn knows what it was; a change of clothes.

"I don't really feel like transforming right now…" Quinn turns her back, sighs and looks up to the skies; not a single star in the sky, no moon, a blank slate.

"We can go for a run, just the two of us, like the good old days."

Quinn huffs out a laugh, "I know what you're trying to do, Frannie. You're trying to make me feel all nostalgic, trying to take me back to a time when the only thing I had to worry about was getting my homework in on time. It's not going to work."

Frannie is silent, and Quinn sighs in quiet relief; she knew her sister's plan all along and the fact it backfired would no doubt annoy her.

All she wanted to do was sleep. She wanted to go lie down on that lumpy couch and sleep the night away and hopefully make it through the night without a nightmare. She wanted to make it through the night without seeing Rachel, lying in a pool of her own blood with a transformation gone wrong.

"I used to hate you, you know…"

Quinn's chin drops to her chest and she squeezes her eyes shut.

"After you first transformed, all of dad's attention went straight onto you. I didn't hate that, after all, he'd spent years personally training me. But you, when you made your first hunt, he saw something inside of you. Mom and I felt it too, of course, but he seemed so eager to know more. I knew what it was, I just didn't want to accept it. After all, why should you have the right to be an Alpha and not me?"

Quinn bites down softly on her bottom lip; she always knew that Frannie held some form of jealousy toward her because of her relationship with their father. But hatred?

"I hated you so much, for so long." Frannie sighs, turning her back to Quinn. The two sisters stand together, back to back, feet apart on an open plane. To anyone, it would look like a stand off, but the two women knew what they were doing; airing dirty laundry, burying old ghosts that still haunted them. "So when you were officially labelled as an Alpha, I wasn't really surprised." She chuckles softly, "In fact, I expected it."

Quinn's throat bobs as she swallows, slowly raising her head to hesitantly look over her shoulder, "Do you still hate me?"

"No, not anymore." She shakes her head, "I love you. You couldn't help that you were born with that gift. Now that I think about it, I don't think I'd want to be shouldered with that burden."

The younger blonde's shoulders shake with a silent laugh, "Tell me about it."

Frannie turns back around, eyes soft as she regards her sister, "So, want to go for a run?"

"All I can tell you is that you need to speak to Quinn, and then you need to think long and hard about what you really want because this isn't a decision anyone takes lightly.

Rachel straightens, pulling away from the window to look at Russell. "Then I'll talk to Quinn." And she heads to the study door, but Russell's voice stops her.

"It's late, you should go home."

"Russell."

"She isn't here, Rachel. She's gone to see her sister in Boston. She'll be back in a few days."

"Boston?!"

Russell nods, "It's only for a few days, she'll be back in no time."

"A few days…" Rachel sighs in resignation, but can't help but feel that Quinn might just stay in Boston to avoid all her problems. She might just run away forever.

They run, almost in tandem, paws pound in a melodic beat that sets the pace. They race from time to time, which Quinn always wins.

"You're cheating!"

"Am not. Can't help it if you're slow, fatty."

And although Frannie, and by default, her wolf are pregnant, she launches herself at her younger sister and tackles her to the ground. They play fight, playfully biting at one another's necks as they roll around in the dirt. It's only until Frannie has her sister pinned, do they stop.

"I win!" Frannie thinks, smugly.

"The only reason you won is because I won't kick you off of me, after all, I have a baby nephew in there I need to protect, right?"

Frannie's pale blonde wolf is silent for a moment and its piercing blue eyes almost peer into Quinn's soul.

And then the wolf licks its chops before that very same tongue sends one long lick up along Quinn's snout.

"Gross, Frannie!"

Frannie barks happily, then in the silence that follows, her voice fills Quinn's mind.

"Do you want to think about it?"

No. Not tonight. Just for one night she wants to forget.

"Not tonight, Frannie. Please."

"I'll be here as long as you need me," She whispers before protectively lowering her head over Quinn's, nose snuffing gently at flattened ears.

I love you.

So much.

I miss you.

So much.

Quinn…please come back.

I need you.

I love you too. Soon.

When?

When I'm ready to talk.

Okay. I won't push you.

Thanks, Rachel.

Quinn comes back two days later, looking a lot better than she did then when she left. It's a Saturday when the doorbell rings and her father answers the door, so when the call of her father's familiar voice shouts up the stairs, "Rachel! Quinn is here!" She just jumps from her seat and all but bolts out the door and down the stairs and straight into Quinn's open arms.

"You're back…" Rachel whispers quietly into Quinn's neck, smelling that familiar perfume that soothes and calms her, and when she feels the soft touch of her girlfriend's hands on her back, she sobs silently, comforted that Quinn came back.

Hiram leaves them, shuffling away into the kitchen to give the two girls their privacy. He'd noticed that Rachel hadn't been herself for the past few days and he assumed it was because they had a falling out over Quinn disappearing to Boston for a few days, but after watching his daughter, he knew it was something deeper, something that even he, as a father, shouldn't be privy to.

His daughter had told him that Quinn was an Alpha, and about the needs that came along with it, so instead of prying, which he had an overwhelming need to do, he stepped back and let his daughter deal with the separation.

"I told you I'd be back, Rachel…" Quinn replies quietly, pressing a soft and soothing kiss to Rachel's temple. She holds her as she cries and barely fights off the tears herself; she feels horrible for leaving Rachel in the dark, even if it was just for a few days, but they hadn't exactly left on good terms. She shudders to think what went through Rachel's mind while she'd been gone.

Her father had filled her in, of course, hence why she had come so early in the morning. Seven am, a feat that Quinn never thought she could succeed in pulling off, but she'd done it, because she needed to see Rachel, she needed to smell Rachel, she needed to kiss Rachel.

So she pulls back, a hand running up to thread through silky brown hair, holding her by the back of her head. Hazel eyes scan Rachel's face; she doesn't look tired, she doesn't look like she's been losing sleep over anything. Her eyes shine with a gentle hope.

"Damn, I've missed you."

Rachel smiles shyly, "I've missed you too…"

And they're kissing, softly, slowly, sedately, until something snaps between the two of them almost like a bolt of lightning. Their clutching at each other's shirts, holding each other close as lips brush, teeth nip and tongues duel. They need to be close, they need to feel that connection that bonds them together.

"I can hear you!" Hiram chides from the kitchen and they pull apart almost as if they were electrocuted from the haze of their arousal. "Why thank you." Hiram adds, returning to his duties in the kitchen.

But it doesn't stop Quinn from pulling at the collar of Rachel's shirt, exposing a mark not hidden by make up, but clear to anyone who would glance upon it. She leans down and presses a soft kiss to the mark before flicking the tip of her tongue over it, sending shivers up and down Rachel's spine.

"Is it suppose to be that sensitive?" She asks with a quiet gasp.

Quinn chuckles against the skin, "I should have bitten you between your le-,"

"Quinn!"

"I want no lady babies made in this house, girls!"

"Are you ready to talk?"

"Yeah…" Quinn settles down at the coffee table in front of her sister and her brother in law.

"Lee, honey." Frannie hints softly.

"No, I need his opinion on this too…"

The man looks mildly surprised, eyebrows rising over the coffee cup his sips from, "Uh…sure." He settles the mug down and clasps his hands together on the kitchen table, settling himself into the conversation. Quinn and he had never really had much time conversing with one another, usually it was just a 'hello, how're you?' and that was them done, so it came as a shock, a good shock, that she would ask for his help too.

"So what's wrong?" Frannie asks, trying to hide the need to know what has Quinn so down. She's always wanted to know other people's business; that little pet peeve, she'd had since High School.

"It's about Rachel, you know, my mate?"

"You marked her?" Lee asks, genuinely shocked.

"Holy…shit!"

"Sis!" Quinn sighs tiredly, dropping her head forward into her hand.

"Sorry, it's just a big shock…" She amends, "So…what's the problem? Are you regretting it? Or, is Rachel?"

"No, nothing like that. We had a fight and she kinda…well, she did, she asked me to turn her."

"Holy…Shit!"

"Lee!" Quinn groans, shaking her head at her brother in law.

"Sorry, that's just…fuck, that's brutal."

"Tell me about it." Quinn sighs, leaning back in her seat, chin to chest.

"And how do you feel about that?" Frannie asks, always the voice of reason.

"How do I feel about sending my girlfriend to an early grave? Peachy."

Frannie raises an eyebrow, "Don't be smarmy. You must know what can happen if you change her, but then again, it's up to her and if that's what she really wants, and she accepts the problems that couldn't arise from it, you can't really deny her."

"But why not…?"

Lee smiles sadly, "It's not in our nature, kiddo."

"Nature sucks…"

"Just talk to her, Quinn. It's all you can do."

"I guess you're here because of what I asked you a few days ago?" Rachel asks, sitting on the edge of her bed, hands planted on her lap, looking sheepish. But when Quinn settles down on her knees before her and takes her hands in a gentle grip, she instantly settles; she's not in trouble.

"Do you know what the consequences are, Rachel? If I do that…I could-,"

"Kill me." Rachel adds helpfully, sadly, "I know."

"Rachel, I can't do that with any good reason. There's a slim to no chance that you'll survive and I'm not willing to lose you."

Her mate drops her head and sighs, "I can't say I'm not…upset by that, because honestly, I think the thought of you turning me, of being a werewolf, truly is invigorating."

"Rachel…"

"Can I at least think about it?" Rachel asks, hopefully.

"The prospect of me killing you?" Quinn exclaims, rocking back onto the balls of her feet. "Rachel, I'm not doing it!"

"I'm your mate, you can't deny me!" Then Rachel sighs, "I know there's a high probability I may not die, but if there's a chance, no matter how small, shouldn't I take it? I'd be a werewolf, I'd be one of you and…I'd feel so much more closer to you. I wouldn't feel as if I was being left in the dust all the time.."

Quinn frowns, "Is that the only reason why? Because you feel left out?" She shakes her head in disbelief, "My God, Rachel."

"Of course it's not! I'm not completely brain dead. I wouldn't consider such a dire solution if I was just 'left out'. I'm doing this because I want to be that much closer to you, I want to know what you're thinking. I always feel like I'm two steps behind you. I always feel so…belittled."

"I…" She sighs, "I didn't know I made you feel that way."

"You don't do intentionally, just when you tell me I won't understand what you're going through because I'm not a wolf, it just…hurts."

Quinn launches up, wrapping her arms tightly around Rachel's soft body. She envelops herself in the warmth; disgusted that she made her mate feel that way. She was suppose to protect her mate, not make her feel unsafe and belittled. Had she brought all of this on? Rachel's paranoia and her need to be included was brought on by her treatment?

"I'm so sorry…" Her wolf whimpers quietly, hidden away in the back of her mind, ashamed to even show itself proudly anymore.

"You didn't know you were doing it. Don't apologize for something you had no idea about." Rachel threads her hands through Quinn's hair, pulling at the tendrils, luxuriating in the way Quinn's body seems to melt against her own. They fit together, just like a puzzle piece, they belonged with one another.

"I still feel guilty," Quinn sighs, "And I'm still sorry."

"I guess I can't stop you feeling that way," Rachel smiles sadly, "Just like you can't stop me thinking about changing."

Quinn pulls back slightly, tilting her head up to regard Rachel, "Please…don't make me do it."

"I'm only thinking about it, Quinn."

"But…" Tears shine her eyes, "There's only two options and I'm scared you'll chose the one I don't want you to chose. I can't lose you." She buries her head against Rachel's chest, lips pressed against the mark.

"Just…" Quinn sighs raggedly, fighting back tears, "Just let me think about it, Quinn. At least give me that right."

And it hurts, because it's the last thing she wants, but she nods, because it's in her nature.

Deny your mate is denying yourself. You cannot do it.

"To deny your mate is denying yourself. You cannot do it." Lee offers, oddly mage-like. "Trust me, I tried with Fran dozens of times. She wanted to stay in Boston, I didn't, but in the end we stayed because I couldn't deny her."

"No, we stayed because Boston is a nice place to have our children grow up, stop acting like I'm the bad guy."

Quinn smiles softly at their bickering, before sobering, "But…I can't lose her."

"I know, sis. But Rachel can think for herself and if it's what she really wants, you have to give it to her."

"I need her in my life though. If she chooses to change, what would I do then?"

"I…" Frannie turns to Lee in a silent plead for help.

"We can't help you there, Quinn. You need to respect her decision."

"I want her. I need her."

"We know, sis." Frannie sighs quietly, "So you marked her?" She asks, glad to change the morbid subject, "That means you're going to be going wherever she is, huh?"

"New York." Quinn nods softly, but not really meeting her older sisters eyes.

"What's wrong?" Lee asks, leaning forward in his seat to catch his sister in law's eyes.

"I don't have the money," She says, flat out coming clean after a month of lying and keeping it to herself. It feels so utterly euphoric she actually slumps back into her seat and sighs with relief, but then the reality kicks in. "Mom and dad only saved a terms worth for NYU because they thought I was getting a scholarship, that and I was only planning to stay at OSU before I met Rachel."

Frannie is oddly quiet, leaning back in her own seat as Lee shrugs his shoulders, "Hey, you have a car. Even if you can't get to NYU, you can easily drive over there on the weekends. And you always have phone calls and Skype to keep each other occupied until you can see one another."

"It's not the same. I need to be there, I need to see her and…I need to be able to smell her." It sounds so odd telling this to a man she never really spoke to, but the way his eyes soften, almost like he understands her, keeps her going, "I can't get that through a phone, or through a laptop screen. I need to feel her skin, I need to see those eyes shine whenever I make her smile."

"I know that feeling." Lee smiles sadly, "When I went away for work two weeks before our wedding, I was crawling the walls of my hotel room. I spoke to her hourly, Skyped nightly, but it still wasn't the same."

"You need that closeness-,"

"You need to know that they're only a step away."

Quinn and Lee fall into a comfortable silence and Frannie, who had remained quiet for the whole conversation, suddenly springs back to life, "Haven't you spoken to Uncle Noble?"

"Uncle Noble? You mean Alfred?"

"Yeah," She nods, "He's almost like an uncle, I call him that."

"Why would I need to talk to him? He's helped me with my training already."

"I'm talking about your college fund."

"What about it?" Then she rolls her eyes with a scoff, "Or lack of."

"Oh gosh, you don't know…"

"I need to go see Alfred." Quinn pulls back and wipes the tears that mar her cheeks, "Meet me at the park tonight?"

"Quinn…"

"Please? I just need to sort something out."

Rachel sighs, eyes scanning her girlfriend's face and seeing the silent pleading look that she gives, her resolve crumbles and she nods, "Okay. I'll be there. Midnight, like usual?"

"Midnight." And she presses a soft kiss to her girlfriend's lips, her nose, her forehead, both temples before repeating the whole sequence again before leaving.

She needs to sort this out for good.

"They never told you." Frannie shakes her head, "Typical mom and dad, if they can't read their children's mind then they just assume nothing is wrong. They've become so dependent on reading their children's minds that they don't do the normal parenting that every other human parent does."

"Sis."

"Mom and dad only saved you one term, because that was all they were told to save."

"What…?"

"Alfred Noble and his wife aren't as straight and narrow as you may think. Alfred inherited a huge nest egg after his father died in battle with an Alpha from Florida. Alfred had no need for the money though, so he put it into a saving's account, never to be touched. Him and his father apparently didn't get along, so he didn't really want to touch the money that he'd had. After the years, it began accumulating interest, and by the time I was due to go to College, although I had my scholarship and a full ride, he offered me a considerable about of money as down payment for a home when I left."

"This house…?"

"You seriously think we can afford it on Lee's salary?"

"I work hard for my money, babe."

"Shush up, I'm speaking. I used the money as a deposit for this house and I've been using it ever since to pay off the mortgage every month. He propositioned dad with the money for when he retired, seeing as though he didn't have any use for the money, so instead, dad asked if the money that he would have gotten, could be used for his daughter's education. Alfred agreed, simply because he saw us both as his grandchildren, not by blood, but the emotional connection was there."

"So that means…"

"Dad was offered $200,000, almost all of the money that Alfred had in his saving's account. He split it down the middle for both of us. I took $100,000, you took $100,000."

"But…the…" Her mouth dropped open, "But the money mom and dad were saving-,"

"Was for you to use on a new car and the expenses along with it. Alfred asked them to save money for the both of us; he knew we wouldn't stay in Lima, he knew we had bigger things planned."

"I'm dreaming."

"'Fraid not, kiddo." Lee chuckles, sipping at his lukewarm coffee, half spilling it down his shirt as Quinn dives over the kitchen table to hug them both.

Cybil opens the door first and when she's entrapped in a steel like hug, she gasps for air before mercifully being let go, "Why hello to you too, Quinn."

"Sorry, I just…" Her eyes shoot across Cybil's face, truly taking the woman in for the first time since they met, "Just, thank you."

Cybil frowns, but then slowly, eventually, the penny drops and she smiles lovingly, "Anytime. Now come in, I won't be the only one subjected to your overbearing hugs." Quinn follows the old woman in, shutting the door carefully behind her, trying not to slam it through the doorframe and out the other side in her excitement. "He's in the living room, I'll make some tea."

And only when Cybil Is safely through the living room and into the kitchen, does Quinn bolt into the living room and all but tackle the eighty year old octogenarian as he reads the morning paper on the couch.

"Oh gosh!" Alfred exclaims, trapped between an overly excited, thrumming body and the back of the couch, "Quinn! What are you doing?"

"Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She plants a sloppy kiss to his forehead, one, in his daze he accepts. And before he knows it, Quinn is pulling back, grinning giddily at him, "Thank you, so much."

"I have no idea what-," Realization dawns, then he grins playfully, "You're quite welcome."

But then the girl before him is breaking down, sobbing, but still smiling.

"What's wrong?" He asks, only mildly concerned because of that smile.

"You've saved me. You really have."

Midnight. A time that belongs to two girls who are bonded to one another forever. At a park where it all began, but will never end. At a swing that belongs wholly to Rachel as she swings back and forth, luxuriating in the soft breeze that sifts past her with each swing. And Quinn, who she belongs to, watches with a barely kept back grin from the entrance of the park, arms stuffed in the jacket of her hoodie, only just holding back the excitement of the news she has to give.

And with each footstep closer to Rachel, she smells her scent, she somehow feels the warmth and love that Rachel naturally gives off, and suddenly, Rachel is pulled back into her arms, still sat on the swing, hands clenched around rusted chains.

They're silent, quietly enjoying the moment of being together once more. But it's only when Quinn brings her lips to Rachel's ear and an almost silent whisper of, "I have the money." Does the scream of excitement that Rachel let's off cut through the stoic air, finally bringing life to a park that no longer held childhood dreams and fantasy, but of a promised future.