Glee belongs to:
BtVs belongs to:
Criminal Minds belongs to:
I don't know what's going on with my head. But this is what it came up with for a Glee crossover. Character death up ahead.
Rachel stared down the gun and the furious man holding it.
He was very tall, muscular, had a shaved head and a dark mocha skin color. Under different circumstances, she was sure that she would have been checking him out discreetly.
She was tired and terrified though. These were definitely not those circumstances.
“Put your hands in the air!” he yelled.
Tears slipped down her cheeks, hot and salty they branded their path on her skin.
“I didn’t do it,” she whispered forlornly and the wind picked up.
How many times now had she wished that she took up the Council’s offer of training? Too many to count.
But no, she was stupid. And arrogant. She had actually told that nice recruiter, Mister Harris, that she was very busy with Glee and didn’t really have the time to dedicate to *yet another* extra-curricular activity. She had thanked him, taken the Council brochures and information out of his incredulous and shocked his hands and waved him on his way.
Rachel was *sure* that she’d be fine. Super strength or not, she’d deal. Just like she always did. She had sectionals coming up, and maybe she’d consider calling the local branch of the Council Houses for training afterwards.
She needed to devote all her time to her singing.
Everything came to an end last week.
She had made an appointment with Mister Shuester to discuss her solo and arrived five minutes early, *just like always* to discover his bloody body propped in his chair like a grotesque marionette.
Two men were standing beside him; they had ugly, deformed faces with flashing yellow eyes.
They seemed jubilant at her arrival, proclaiming that the ‘Slayer bitch’ had finally arrived.
They blocked her exit and would have killed her if her instincts hadn’t kicked in.
Rachel fought with shocking speed and strength, she moved instinctively against them, predator against predator. But she had ended up getting wounded. And she had bled near Mister Shuester’s cooling body.
The adrenaline haze was the most intense thing she had ever experienced, and that included that time when she had drank five mocha cappuccinos one after another.
Rachel didn’t notice that she was leaving the music room. She had stumbled along the deserted hallways, bloody and disoriented.
Or at least she thought they were deserted. She didn’t notice Sue Sylvester’s shocked face in the window of the gym, watching Rachel leave the doors of William McKinley High.
Somehow or other, by the time she had finally come out of her haze- she was already suspect number one in the murder of Mister Shuester. Rachel had freaked out, apparently the cops were building a pretty convincing case against her, citing numerous instances of her clashes with the Glee director. People had actually come forth and said that she was capable of murdering for the perfect solo.
Her fathers were taken into protective custody, it seemed that the gruesomeness of the murder signaled that Rachel was on a psychotic break.
She had turned her house apart, looking for the Council contacts. They *had* to help. They were built for helping slayers.
She was innocent.
Rachel never did find that information. Not on the web, not through directory.
It was only thanks to some deeply hidden instincts that she had been able to elude the manhunt for a whole week. But now the FBI had been brought in, the hunt for Rachel Berry- murdering psychopath, was taken up a notch.
Rachel tried to stifle a sob but it broke out, harsh and bleak in the early morning.
The FBI agent took two steps closer and her nerves screamed at her to attack.
“Listen,” step, “just put your hands up and come forward. I promise we’re going to get you some help, you’re only seventeen- the judge will be more lenient to your case.”
The wind picked even more, Rachel’s dirty brown hair moved behind her back.
“I didn’t do it though,” she whispered.
The sound of an approaching car reached her ears.
Rachel began backing away from the agent, towards the edge of the roof.
“Stop right there!” he shouted, eyes wide with shock at her actions.
Rachel stepped back on the railing, it was only knee high and she kept her gaze trained on the man in front of her the whole time.
“Please back away, you have your whole life ahead of you,” he implored.
“But I don’t,” Rachel shook her head, “don’t you see? You’ve already decided I’m guilty.”
Her enhanced eyesight picked out the large Mack truck moving fast towards them.
Adrenaline was coursing through her veins, it felt like her limbs were on fire. A week of living on the run had taught Rachel that this meant her body was preparing for a previously unknown physical feat.
Thank God for the slayer instincts.
She estimated that she was about seven stories up.
Rachel licked her lips.
“Don’t do it,” he warned her.
The truck was three seconds away.
Her body suddenly relaxed and she smiled a bitter, twisted smirk at him.
“Stop me,” Rachel jumped.
Her body twisted in midair, preparing itself to land on the truck’s roof.
Derek shouted and ran to the edge of the roof. She had jumped!
She had actually coiled her knees and jumped off the roof, instead of falling like most suicidal unsubs had done in the past.
A hot feeling of guilt and regret coursed at him. Seventeen year old Rachel Berry chose to die instead of facing the law enforcement for the murder of her mentor.
He reached the edge and the breath caught in his chest.
Rachel’s long dark brown hair flew around her as she fell onto the truck, landing in a crouch to absorb the shock of the fall, impossibly athletic and sleek. She looked like a wild animal, a panther posed to strike.
Derek’s voice caught in his throat as he saw Rachel stand tall, tilting her head back as she watched him, the truck carrying her further and further away from him.
Rachel Berry was dangerous.