So I owe everyone who followed/favourited me a HUGE apology because I've been gone for who knows how long. I'm so sorry! Life got in the way and I've had loads of things happen, good and bad.

Nevertheless, I'm back with this new story that circles around the fact that Sam is an angel! If any of you still remember the awesome author Readingtoomuch, I'd just like to say that I in no way hope to copy her material, I'd just like to see where I could go with this. Also, if some of the content is offensive to you or your religion, I mean no malice. This is a work of fiction and by no means used to insult anybody.

I hope you enjoy it!

...

The first time Quinn sees him, she pukes.

She's just come back from another night out with the Skanks. They'd gone to the local store and stole a couple of bottles of whiskey, then back to school to their usual under-the-bleachers hangout spot. They'd spent their time passing the bottle around, taking a swig and a puff of a cigarette, then bitch about something they were unhappy with in their life. Be it unreasonable parents or nosy teachers, they always had something to say.

Quinn never contributed to the discussion though. She'd never said much when she'd joined them. The former blond was only there for the alcohol and smoke clouds. Those two vices helped her keep the issue that was her life away from her mind. They kept her mind off the fact that she had no father, her mother was probably a bigger wreck than she was and that her friends were a bunch of promiscuous teenagers with the tendency to break out into song every five minutes. They kept her mind off the fact that she herself was a mother.

More importantly, they helped her to not care about the fact that she was alone.

After Beth, Quinn had tried and tried and tried to go back to her picture perfect life. Perfect grades, captain of the Cheerios, back on top of the school. But no matter how hard she tried, it was just never the same. She was still able to sense the stares at her back like daggers piercing through her skin. She still heard the hushed whispers of "Slut" and "Banged up mess". She tried to stay strong and brush the insults aside. But evidently, it's hard to be strong without a pillar to lean on. Singing about her feelings only got her so far. Finn never bothered now that he had Rachel, Puck never really cared at all. Santana and Brittney were too all up in each other to notice too. She was practically invisible.

Gradually, Quinn began to recede into her own cocoon. She went to glee club only twice a week, then once, then not at all. She started to skip classes and spent more time alone. Slowly but surely, she blended in with the crowd, becoming merely another random person no one really gave two shits about. Then she found the Skanks, who took her in without a single question.

She dyed her hair pink, wore only black and changed her attitude altogether. When she found out the reprieve alcohol and cigarettes brought her, they became a necessity. She stumbled home drunk almost every night and collapsed into bed, but some nights, she still had some stray thoughts of someone holding her, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, telling her it would all be alright. Those nights were the ones she'd cry herself to sleep.

That night she was the drunkest she'd ever been. Quinn's mother was long asleep on sleeping pills and her own stash of spirits. As she trudged up the stairs, a feat she somehow managed to accomplish without falling, Quinn removed her leather jacket and tossed it somewhere. It surprised her that her mother still did the cleaning.

Opening her door, Quinn noticed something was out of place: there was a man in her room. Even in her inebriated state, she could still tell that he was good looking, very good looking, in fact. He had blond hair, almost the same shade as hers before everything went to shit. She couldn't tell what he was wearing though, because she was starting to see double of him. The floor seemed to shake as well, and her vision became blurry.

Then Quinn puked.

…

Waking up the next morning, Quinn found that she wasn't hungover, like usual. Finding this odd, she sat up and then realized that she wasn't dressed in what she wore the night before. Her black top and black miniskirt were switched out for a white tank and boyshorts. Someone had changed her clothes while she was passed out.

It couldn't have been her mother, she'd never bothered to do so before. So who had? Utterly confused, Quinn muttered, "What the fuck?"

"I did."

Quinn screamed and scrambled off her bed. Swiveling to face the door, she grabbed the first thing she felt on her dresser to use as a weapon, which happened to be a tube of moisturizer. Brandishing it at the man, she recognized him as the one the night before, only this time she could clearly make out his features. Drunk Quinn was right, this man was handsome, incredibly so. He was built as well, the tight white v-neck not doing much to hide his chest and biceps. His legs were covered by jeans and his hair was short and kept neat, barely crossing his eyebrow.

"Who the hell are you and how did you get in?" Quinn questioned while grabbing the sheet off the bed to hide her appearance.

The strange man held up his hands in a posture of peace. "Look, I know this is creepy and all, but I'll explain later. I made breakfast, come down and eat," He then smiled, "I promise you I did nothing and saw nothing when I changed you." With that, the man backed out of her room and retreated downstairs.

Quinn stood rooted to the spot for a good two minutes trying to figure out what just happened. A stranger appears out of thin air last night, cleaned her up and changed her without doing anything to her, then put her to bed and even made breakfast the day after. Only now did Quinn smell the bacon and toast wafting from downstairs. As if on cue, her tummy grumbled.

Well, I've nothing to lose anyway, she thought, and headed downstairs.

On the kitchen counter was a plate of scrambled eggs, buttered toast and crispy bacon. The man had his back to her, doing something else. Quinn sat down slowly, keeping both eyes on him as she did. He then turned to see her, smiled, and placed a mug of orange juice before her.

Quinn kept her silence and picked up a fork and began to eat, her eyes flicking back and forth from her food to the man, who appeared to be washing last night's dishes, courtesy of Judy Fabray. Quinn briefly wondered where her mother had gone, only to find that she didn't really care.

Downing her orange juice, Quinn found the voice and courage to ask the man, "Hey… who are you really? No thief or rapist would have done all this and all that last night."

The man turned around, smile on his face, "My name's Sam," he placed a dish down and walked over to the counter where she was seated, leaning down so he was eye level with her, "And I'm your angel."

…

I plan for this to be a chaptered story and I'm not too sure how long it'll be. In any case, tell me what you think! I hope you enjoy this!