CODE: M, AU, Faberry, D/s
SUMMARY: at 18 years old Quinn Fabray was sorted to be a slave. Since then many tried to claim her but no one succeded. D/s, sub!Quin
WARNING: D/s relationship are standard in this AU.
DISCLAIMER:Glee is mine, and in the fourth season I will have Quinn on screen 90% of the time, and for the rest of it carachters will make jokes about Finn. Oh, and I just saw a purple elephant flying in front of my castle's window. Did you see that too?

CHAPTER 1
The Infamous Quinn Fabray

The cab driver waited until she somehow crawled out of his car and then left without looking back. She could barely stand on her own, her back throbbed and she winced every time she had to put the foot on the ground but at least, now, she was home.

She lived on the third floor and usually walked up the stairs, but that day she knew if she had tried to climb them she would have fainted on her way up, so she took the elevator. While the small cabin shook and trembled rising up, she rested her forehead on the dirt wall, short blond hair falling in front of her eyes. She didn't dare to lift a hand to move them, fearing it would be impossible for her to move her shoulders at all. The elevator's shakes made her feel even more sick than before: it was a good thing she hadn't eaten in at least two days or she would be throwing up in that same moment.

She reached her door and opened it, no key needed, and she unfastened the raincoat belt letting it fall on the floor. Completely naked she walked to her bedroom and cautiously laid down, her back protesting at every single movement. She didn't dare to go under the covers, fearing the blanket's weight could irritate her back even more, so she just laid over it, head buried in the pillow, feeling some relief as she lifted her leg up from the ground.

She stayed still for some moments, hoping that a dreamless sleep would come immediately, but the heat in her back kept her conscious, so she reached over the bedside table where she had left a couple of white pills the day before. She grabbed them but then thought better of it and left one behind. She swallowed it without water. The simple gesture of getting her head up to take the pill made her feel like she was on a boat in the center of a storm. She grunted hoping the pill would work quickly.

It didn't.

She heard the click of her door when it opened and then the familiar light steps getting closer to her room. She could sense Santana's presence and almost feel her shadow on her body. The other woman waited a few seconds, probably checking her reddened back, and then touched her cheek.

"You're burning Quinn!"

The blonde grunted something in response. Santana's finger moved quickly over her bruised back, just above the marks the whip had left on her skin, feeling the heat emanating from her friend, trying to asses the extent of her injuries: the whipping didn't seem too severe by Quinn's standards but the fever was unusual.

"You have to stop this."

The blonde was in no mood for one of Santana's sermons. Her head was pounding and her brain threatened to blow out of her eyes. She heard the Latina exit the room and then, after a few moments, coming back to her. She sat on the bed with a glass of water and a straw.

"Drink, I've put some aspirin in it."

Santana held her head up until she had drank all the water and murmured her thanks. Santana brushed Quinn's hair away in a gentle, caring, gesture.

"I thought this was supposed to be an easy one."

"It was. I'm ok." Quinn was trying to keep her eyes open but she couldn't stand the light.

"Yeah, I can see that, you're perfectly fine! Peachy! I swear if I have to claim you myself to take you out of this, I will do it!"

"No, you won't." Quinn left no space for debate "And now, please, shut up or leave, San."

The Latina bit the inside of her mouth fighting the urge to beat some sense into her friend. There were times when Quinn Fabray was simply the stupidest woman on the planet. She got up and went to the bathroom to wet a towel she laid on the blonde's back. The cold fabric made her shiver and then sigh in relief.

"Try to sleep, asshole, we're gonna talk later."

Quinn woke up a few hours later. She was cover ed with her sheets and Quinn imagined that, at some point, Santana had come into her room to take away the wet towel. She lingered a minute on the bed, doing a quick check-up of her conditions. The headache was gone and her back seemed fine although a bit sore; her fever had also dropped and, all things considered, she seemed to be in good conditions. Nevertheless it took her almost five minutes to get up from the bed and beat the stiffness of her own body, and when she put her foot on the ground the sudden pain almost made her fall.

"Shit!"

She saw a pair of loose pants and a t-shirt that Santana left for her on the bed. She had chosen light clothes that wouldn't irritate her already sore skin. Quinn dressed and then, leaning on every furniture and wall she could find, she made it to the other room where a distracted Santana was reading a magazine. The Latina lifted her head up and saw Quinn leaning on the corner, studying a path for her to reach the table, but furniture and walls were too far.

Quinn raised her head too. "Are you gonna make me ask?" The Latina smiled, tilting her head. "Fine. Can you please help me San?"

"Sure, why not."

With the help of her friend Quinn made it to the couch where Santana told her she was expecting the doctor to arrive soon.

"I don't need a doctor."

"Of course, silly me, it's just ok to have a fever like you had, and that wound on your foot will surely heal on its own while you walk on it and go back into the game."

Quinn looked pale, and had dark circles around her beautiful hazel eyes and it was not all due to the previous night. It had been months of her falling apart, at least since Raphael had laid his eyes on her.

Santana took her chin turning her head around. "Damn, Q. You look like hell."

"Thanks."

"I'm serious. What did he do to you?"

"Nothing." The Latina arched her eyebrows. "Usual stuff, whip, rope, chain... nothing to worry about."

Santana was about to reply when a knock on the door called her.

It was a small dark haired man with a comic big nose on which he balanced a pair of thin glasses.

"My name is Lucas Krovitch, I'm a doctor. I believe someone called me?"

"Yes, I called you, sir. My name is Santana Lopez. Please, come in."

She welcomed him into the house and presented Quinn.

"I would like you to check on her, please. She has been feverish and has some wound I would like you to look."

Quinn didn't like when her friend took control with the guests like it was her own house, but she knew the Latina did it for her sake. There were plenty of people who didn't like to talk to or, worse, receive orders, from a slave. Having Santana around and pretending it was all her idea was simpler.

"Can you please stand up girl?"

Girl or slave was the common term free people used for the ones like her. Quinn often wondered what it would be like to be 40, or 60 and still be called girl.

Quinn tried to get up when Santana's grasp on her shoulder put her down on the couch. "Actually" The Latina said "she can't. That's one of the reasons I called you. Under the right foot" She specified.

The doctor sat on the low table and bent to look at her sole.

"I see... You're right, nasty wound, and vicious too. Did you do that to her?"

"No." Quinn answered immediately feeling the urge to defend Santana from this insinuations.

"Good, I advise against foot torture. Although I seem to understand it is common practice, around here, feet wounds are hard to heal. This one..." He examined closer the wound parting the two flaps of skin and making Quinn wince. "Was it a knife?" The blonde nodded. "Was it cleaned afterwards?"

Quinn didn't think that pouring vinegar on her wound would be in fact "cleaning" it, but it was considered a way of disinfecting it so, yes, the wound was cleaned.

"Seems ok to me. Of course, it's in a bad place, so I think you should put something on it to accelerate the healing. Can I see your back now?"

Quinn didn't move, taken by surprise by his request. "By the way you move, or rather, don't move, I take it you've been whipped, right? I'd like to cover my bases. I don't want to be accused of being sloppy."

"I'm fine."

"Sorry if I don't take your word for it, but I do have a medical degree and I'd like to see with my own eyes."

When Quinn was with one of her claimers her mind was ready for it, but now, out of the context, in her own house, having a small man talking to her like that made her blood boil. Santana squeezed her shoulder before she could do something stupid, forcing her to turn at the same time, so the doctor could see her back. The little man lifted her t-shirt; despite his rough ways, his touch was very gentle and kind.

"I owe you an apology girl, you really seem fine: whipped, but ok."

"I might have no medical degree" Quinn answered "but I've been a slave long enough to know this kind of things."

The Latina tensed at Quinn's remark. That was exactly the kind of behavior that got her into troubles in the first place. And she hadn't learned anything yet. The doctor frowned looking at her with more interest, as if that remark had sparked up something in his mind.

"You're that Quinn, aren't you? Fabray."

"Do we know each other?"

"You don't" the doctor quickly glanced and then returned to his task, grabbing her arm and taking a closer look at the area around her elbow. "But I do know you: the infamous Quinn Fabray, everyone in the medical department knows your name, girl."

"I guess I'm famous."

"You are, although most people wouldn't be proud of the adjectives we associate with your name: the untamed painslut... What is this?" The doctor switched topic as soon as he spotted a small red circle on her skin.

"He injected me with something."

"He injected you?" Santana asked with concern. The doctor ignored her.

"I bet you felt light headed, had nausea, stomach-ache? Am I right?" He asked, taking a syringe from his bag and when Quinn nodded he continued "You're not the first one, I've seen this method before although it's usually more common in Asia than here. It's nothing serious, probably, just something to make you temporally sick and unsettle you, but I will draw some blood and run some tests just to be sure."

Quinn turned her head as the needle entered her arm.

"Is Quinn Fabray scared of needles?" He asked smirking.

"No, I'm... just a reflex, I guess." She answered turning again and facing both the doctor and the blood slowly filling the vial.

"I can't believe that on my first week on a new district I got you."

"Tonight you will have something to brag about to your friends, doctor." Again, Santana fighted the urge to hit Quinn on her head like you'd do with a child who didn't behave.

"I can usually brag" he emphasized the last word with his tone of voice "about more important things than this, girl." He took her chin moving her head left and right, studying it. "Do you eat?"

"Plenty."

"Doesn't look like it. Eat more! " The doctor didn't waste more words than necessary, he was bluntly direct. "Is there anyone who can take care of you?" The doctor asked.

"That would be me." Santana answered.

"Is she your sub?"

"Oh God, no!"

"Said the one who threatened to claim me yesterday." Murmured Quinn, shooting a cocky look to the Latina.

"Shut up Q!" Santana turned her attention to the doctor "We're... friends."

The little man nodded. People were sorted at the age of 18 when many personal bonds were already formed, so it wasn't so strange, for some dominants and submissives, to mantain the relationships they had before, whether simple friendships or love affairs.

"Put this cream on her foot once a day, it will help the healing and prevent infections." The man instructed. "Keep the wound clean and dry, I recommend waterproof bandages just to be safe. If it itches put some ice on it, if the redness doesn't go away by tomorrow evening or if the wound feels like throbbing, then call me."

"Thanks doc. I'll walk you to the door."

"Keep your foot up, girl!" He said with a severe look to Quinn, before leaving the room.

As he approached the door he slowed down, hesitating.

"I realize this is an extra, non-requested, advice, miss, but that girl could use some real rest." He slid an orange bottle full of pills into Santana's hands. "Dissolve one of this in a glass of water, it will put her out for at least eight hours. I will report her damaged foot, this will hopefully give her a week off."

No, it wouldn't. Quinn's list was too long for a simple foot to get in the way of her claimers. The Central Direction would sent an alert on her condition and ask the official sent to her session to pay particular attention to it. And that would be that.

Santana thanked the doctor and slipped the pills in her pocket. Returning to the room she saw Quinn sitting on the couch, head resting on the back with her eyes closed. She looked at her with concern: things were never great for her friend since she was sorted as a submissive, but in the last few years they got worst. Her stubborn refusal to surrender and her high pain tolerance made her life a living hell. She sighed: Quinn would never break, but if she kept on going down this road someone might end up killing her while trying.

"Let's take care of this foot." Quinn's eyes snapped open to see Santana sitting on the table in front of her, taking her foot and spreading the cream over her wound.

"You don't need to do that, San, I can take care of myself."

"No, you can't; you're the fucking living proof that you can't take care of yourself so shut up and let me help you."

Santana's hands were practical and precise while she bandaged her friend. She had done it so many times that Quinn, joking, called her nurse.

"Don't get mad, San." There was the hint of a plea in Quinn's voice that didn't go unnoticed and stung the Latina's heart.

"Stop being such an idiot and I will stop being mad at you."

"I told you..."

"Yes, you told me, and I told you, and we keep telling each other the same things over and over, except that I'm right and you're wrong but you're such an asshole that you don't see it."

Quinn grabbed her friend's hand moving her thumb over it, trying to calm her down.

"I'm worried about you Q."

"I know. Don't be."

They stared at each other for a while. Santana was Quinn's best friend, she always was. They used to rule the school, back in the days, before the sorting, and after that, even if Santana was chosen to be a dominant and Quinn a submissive, the Latina never left her side and stayed true to their friendship. Unlike so many others of their old friends did.

"When was the last time you ate?"

"I'm pretty sure they attached me to an IV at some point yesterday."

"I meant proper food, not just sugar and vitamins injected in your veins, do you remember food? The thing you need to chew and swallow, and it usually has a taste?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Too bad, because you're going to eat anyway."

The Latina helped her up to the kitchen. Quinn's house was bigger than the typical slave house: it had a larger room with a kitchen and a small lounge, a bedroom and a nice large bath with a bathtub. It was a compensation for the time when one of the first dominants who tried to claim Quinn went too far, breaking her arm.

Santana moved in the familiar kitchen preparing just some crackers and cheese. She wasn't sure how much Quinn's stomach could handle and decided to go easy. Quinn's first bite was tentative, forced, but as she chewed she realized she was indeed hungry and ate it all in a few minutes.

"Here, take this too." Santana gave her a glass of juice where she had dissolved the sleeping pills. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm ok, I've told you. He was just a wannabe, an amateur at best."

"And yet you're feverish and you can't walk like a decent human being."

"I could walk, it's just that you don't let me!" Answered Quinn opening another packet of crackers.

"And the fever?"

"I'll give it to him: nobody ever tried that before. Making me sick was a first, but it didn't work anyway."

"Jesus, Quinn, do you hear yourself talk? This is not a joke. A moron like him, who doesn't know what he's doing, could easily kill you without even realizing it."

"It won't happen."

"Like hell, Q. Your reputation goes far beyond national borders. They talk about you in Europe and Japan. Claimers are piling up and I expect the Central Direction to cut your recovery days soon. There are just too many people who want to try you."

"So? I guess they will."

Santana sighed in frustration. "I swear, if I didn't know you better I'd say you're retarded Quinn! If you keep this up you're gonna die. Is that what you want?"

"If I die I will die as a free woman, if I live I'll live as a free woman. I'm not submitting, you should know that."

"This is insane. You're far beyond my reach now, your name is too popular, I can't control who wants to get on your list."

"I know."

"Then listen to me, please! You've seen some of those people, they're... nut jobs! You attract the worst, girl, and there are a lot of worst in this world."

"I know that too." Quinn's tone didn't change, it was calm, just a bit tired.

"Look, I know some people, they're decent human beings, they will treat you with respect, let you do your own thing, you can have a nice life. Woman or man, just name it, I've checked them all out. Just submit to them and stop this nonsense."

"No."

Quinn didn't leave much room for a debate, as usual. They had that conversation every month, more or less, and it always ended the same way, but this time Santana wasn't letting it go.

"Do you know there are bets on you?" That caught Quinn by surprise. "Yep, bets, sweetie, lot of money at stake. They are betting on who will be the one to break you. The rates are so high even the wannabes enter the competition just for the sake of it, trying to make a name for themselves or get the money. For God's sake, Quinn, they will do anything to you to win."

"Calm down San."

"No, I'm over calming down. You need to find an owner, now!"

"That is not gonna happen."

Silence fell between them. San was struggling with herself, she did have another card to play, but it was really her last one.

"Look, I've talked to Britt."

"San..."

"No, let me finish."

"San, please, my head is spinning, I..."

"Shit!" Santana barely reached her friend grabbing her hands and stopping her from falling on the ground. She dissolved two sleeping pills on Quinn's juice, thinking that, given her tolerance to medicine, it would be the right dose, but those pills seemed to be stronger than she thought.

"Nice job, San, drugging your best friend! No, no, I'm not talking to you sweetie, let's get you to bed. Come on!"

She dragged her friend into the bedroom, laying her down on her side. When she reached to comb her short hair Quinn was already asleep. Santana covered her up with a light blanket and left a note on the bedside table, just in case she woke up before her return.