Title: Eliminating the Competition
Pairing/Characters: Quinn/Finn, Blaine/Kurt, Quinn/Sam, Finn/Rachel and some others.
Warnings: Dub-con, serial murder, violence, disturbing thoughts and imagery.
Summary: SEASON 2 SERIAL KILLER AU. Quinn wants to be Prom Queen and Blaine desperately wants to win Nationals. Together, they decide to eliminate the competition.
Author’s Note: For Savannah, who encouraged me. Based on this video I made: Glee as a Horror Movie, inspiration found while making it.
It’s not her fault, really – not in her opinion, anyway – she just has these thoughts... these urges... the kind most normal, stable human beings aren’t really supposed to have. She looks at someone and can almost smell their blood, and not in a creepy vampire way. No, in the way that she can imagine it splattering against the glass of their front door when she brings them Girl Scout cookies, or she can imagine it seeping into Rachel fucking Berry’s damn white tights.
She watches them across the room in BreadstickX; Kurt and Blaine are acting like the perfect couple, the kind she wishes she and Finn still acted like. Kurt’s fingertips are playing against the back of Blaine’s hand and Blaine’s foot is between Kurt’s beneath the table. They’re all coupley and sweet.
Then, all of a sudden, Blaine looks up and his eyes meet Sam’s across the room. There’s a glint of something in them, not something Quinn would peg as the desire to cheat on Kurt – no, his affection towards the little diva is beyond obvious – but... lust for something.
Quinn recognises that look; it’s the same one she sees in the mirror when she’s thinking about Rachel Berry and her ability to pull Finn back out of Quinn’s clutches.
A plan starts to form.
“Hi.” She slips into the seat opposite Blaine in BreadstickX and Blaine looks confusedly at her.
She smiles. It’s taken her a week, but finally she’s in BreadstickX at the same time as Blaine and Kurt again. Kurt has just slipped out to pee and she’s seized the opportunity to swoop down and claim her prize. “You don’t know me,” she starts.
“Yes, I do.” Blaine eyes her, as though trying to place her face. She should be offended – he should remember someone as pretty as her – but she puts his lapsing memory down to his sexuality. “You’re from New Directions.”
Another smile, more placid this time. She’s about to turn on flirt mode when she realises that won’t work, so instead she cuts to the chase. “I have a proposal for you,” she says.
Blaine raises an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”
“You want to win Regionals,” she says and he nods, “and I want to be Prom Queen.”
“And?” He’s looking over her shoulder, waiting for Kurt to remerge, so she reaches out and tilts his face back her way.
She has all his attention now as she says, “I propose we eliminate the competition.”
She can see in his eyes that she understands exactly what she’s implying as he says, “And what makes you think I’ll accept your proposal?”
“Because you didn’t call me a psycho and just walk away.” She produces a piece of paper, her number already scribbled on it, and tucks it between his thumb and forefinger as she stands up. “Think it over and text me. Yes or no, that’s all I need.”
He’s watching her as she walks away, she doesn’t need to look around to know that.
Quinn’s phone buzzes silently in her pocket in the middle of math. She’s sat at the back, working on her sums and trying to block out Finn’s inane questions, when Karofsky steps in front of the teacher and she can check the messages.
‘I’m in. B’ is all it says and all it needs to say, really. She smiles to herself and says, “The answer is fourty-two, Finn,” with endless patience.
She texts Blaine back. ‘Tonight. BreadstickX. Just you and me. 8pm.’
She doesn’t need to check for a response; she knows it’s going to be yes.
“I’m not sure I’m down with this,” is the first thing Blaine says as Quinn slips into the booth opposite him and picks up her menu. She sighs and puts it back down.
“I haven’t even told you the plan yet,” she says. She’s used to being patient with boys, first Finn, then Puck, then Finn again, so it’s not taxing to smile pleasantly at Blaine and hopes he does get down with it soon.
“I know what you’re thinking.” She scoffs because she sincerely doubts that. “And I’m not sure how I feel about it.”
“I can see it in your eyes, Blaine,” she says, leaning across the table. “You look at our Glee club and it’s there for the world to see.” She leans back again. “Well, if you know what to look for.”
“And what is it you see in my eyes?” Blaine enquires.
“Lust for blood.” Quinn folds her napkin in her lap and sips the glass of water that arrived before she did. “I know what you’re thinking when you look at Rachel because I think it too.”
“And that is...?”
“How nice her white tights would look if they were dyed red with her blood.”
Blaine swallows and Quinn has him.
“You have dreams that people would shudder to watch in a movie,” Quinn continues, her voice low enough that only Blaine can hear. “You dream of blood and blades, not used on yourself but others. Even now, you’re imagining what Kurt would look like with his blood dripping down his chest.”
“No,” Blaine says, guilt flashing in his eyes. “I would never hurt Kurt.”
“You say that now.” Quinn sips more water, keeping her eyes focussed on Blaine. “You know my proposal.”
“Kurt stays out of it. Off limits, no exceptions.”
“And Finn. If you touch a hair on his head...”
“Agreed.” Blaine reaches for his own glass of water. “Who do we start with?”
Quinn smiles. “I go first and we start with Rachel Berry.”
They make the arrangements in advance. They work together to clean up bodies but they keep each kill separate so they always have an alibi. For example, the day Quinn deals with Rachel she’s studying at Blaine’s house after school.
She approaches her in the hallway. “Hey, Man Hands.”
Rachel turns towards her. “Quinn,” she says. “Can I help you?”
She thought they were friends, Quinn can see in her eyes, so she takes extra special pleasure in saying, “Stay away from my man.”
Rachel gets flustered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says. “I haven’t been near Finn. Or is it Sam this week? I lose track.”
Quinn pushes her up against the locker, pinning her with her body, one hand pressed to the metal above Rachel’s shoulder. “I say again: stay away from my man.”
The school is silent, deserted, and Quinn can see Rachel getting nervous. “I respect that he’s yours, Quinn,” she says. “I’m not going to try and take him from you.”
“No. You’re not.” Quinn steps back. “I’m glad we’re in agreement.”
“If you’ll excuse me...” Rachel steps out of Quinn’s personal space and backs away down the hall towards the toilets. Quinn watches her go, hands on her hips, plotting quietly.
It’s not difficult to wait outside the next cubical while Rachel goes to the toilet and it’s easy to step up behind her when she approaches the mirror without being heard.
When Rachel finally sees her, she jumps out of her skin. “Quinn! You made me jump.”
“That was the plan,” Quinn says, softly. There’s obviously something in her voice because Rachel swallows.
“Quinn, what’s going on?” she says. Quinn smiles and steps behind her. Rachel is watching her in the mirror and Quinn ghosts her hands over Rachel’s shoulder. The shorter girl shivers. “Quinn, you’re acting crazy,” she says.
Quinn smiles. “I know,” she says, then she slams Rachel’s head into the mirror.
The mirror shatters, glass going everywhere and Rachel is screaming when Quinn smashes her face in against the sink hard enough to break bone.
Quinn drops her to the floor, releasing her hair and stepping back. Rachel stares blankly across at the cubicle and doesn’t blink. She’s not breathing, Quinn can tell that just by looking, and when she presses her fingers to her neck she is gratified to find no pulse.
She wants to text Blaine and tell him she’s succeeded, that Rachel is dead and that’s one less thing to worry about, but she doesn’t. If someone checked her phone records, that would give the game away.
Instead, she smiles, retrieves the bin bag and mop she stored in the end cubical and gets to work.
Blaine helps her dispose of the body the next day, taking it in his truck and driving it to the nearest copse, where they bury it, carefully, and are careful not to be seen.
“Nice,” Blaine says, and there’s awe in his voice that Quinn greatly enjoys hearing.
She smiles at him. “You do the next one,” she says.
“And who would that be?” he enquires.