Chapter Fourteen: So Show me Family, All the Blood That I will Bleed. I don't know where I went wrong, I don't know where I belong.

A hearty grin greets him at the breakfast table, which Sam of course is powerless to deny. He returns it with just as much gusto, attributing the good mood among everyone to the big day. There's a charge in the air; an electricity fueled by excitement. He's relieved that there's a happy environment, and not a drastically depressing one like there could have been.

Waking Brooke hadn't even been difficult. Mostly because she woke him up an hour early, exclaiming "Today is the day!" over and over. He swears he has a little bit of a headache still from it. No one likes being stolen away from sleep so abruptly, but for her, he had laughed and dragged her onto the bed, tickling her senselessly. Her laughs made the ridiculous hour of the morning worth it.

What made it even better, was formulating an elaborate plan to then wake Quinn up. However, Brooke got too excited, disregarded said plan, and just jumped on the woman enthusiastically. From there till now, it had been a flurry of clothes, singing loudly on the little ones part and preparing. Quinn volunteered to make breakfast, which Sam now waits for with Brooke.

Brooke is singing a cheerful "I'm going to school" to a tune only known to her, but Sam doesn't want to intrude or interrupt and instead is glad for her singing drowning out the sounds of his stomach grumbling. Becoming impatient, he shouts out to Quinn, "Hey Fabray, where's the food?"

The child across from him giggles, "Yeah, Fabray!" She laughs harder at this, finding the idea of calling Quinn by her second name a novelty and rather bold.

Sam tries to hide his wince, knowing Quinn wouldn't be fond of that. Instead of the wince, he does something even worse: chuckles. Quinn chooses that moment to enter, placing their plates in front of them gently. Or rather, placing Brooke's plate in front of her gently, and giving Sam a stern look.

"Call me Quinn, B, okay?"

She nods dutifully, already tucking into her food. "Okay!"

Now with her own plate, Quinn sits down between the two of them, signalling for Sam to chow down. Between mouthfuls, she manages to ask Brooke, "Are you excited for today, cookie?"

"Yep! I'm going to make loads of friends and have a new nice teacher and I won't have to see stupid Janet Bigly ever again!"

Sam exchanges a glance with Quinn, "Well, we don't know if Janet will be there. We hope she went to a different school, too, though. She was a bit of a meanie."

Brooke agrees with a deadly serious look on her face, "She was horrible but I sometimes felt bad for her because she hadn't no friends."

"It's a shame she had no friends, but you must be nice to others." Quinn replies simply, and Sam takes that as the end of the conversation. He takes on the task of clearing the table when everyone is finished, and allows his thoughts to drift as Brooke chatters in the background to Quinn. It's the first time he's allowed himself to realise that his little Brooke is actually going to school.

Then he wonders if it's acceptable for him to think of her as "his little Brooke", because while he would have said that a year ago, it now holds an entirely new meaning. Perhaps he's reading in too much. Perhaps he's overstepping the boundaries. He doesn't know, and today, Sam miraculously finds it in him not to care. Today, he's determined to be optimistic, happy and to send Brooke off to school with lightness in her heart. Not the dread that he would face himself.

He works from home most days now, being a writer for a satirical website that comments on everything current and popular, but can't imagine that he'll be getting much done today. The clock is positioned torturously across from the kitchen table where he usually works, meaning he'll more than likely just count down the hours till he sees Brooke again. It's rather interesting how his life has come to revolve around that tiny person.

He's jolted from this reflection by Quinn's hand touching his shoulder, "Are you okay? We want to leave in ten."

"I'm fine," Sam assures her, "It's just surreal beyond belief."

She smiles, "I know. Brooke going to school! It makes me feel so old." Quinn's silent for a minute, watching him dry the dishes as she leans against the counter, "We have to do the day justice. They—they always talked about this day."

He nods, not willing to think about that. She takes him at his word – or rather, at his action – and leaves the kitchen to presumably get their godchild.

He hears the laughter from the sitting room and finds himself smile with them, because he would be damned if that wasn't the sweetest sound in the world.

Then again, he thinks wryly, he'd also be damned if anyone knew he had such thoughts.

"I'm fine." She says exasperatedly, eyes whipping between them and her classroom rapidly. She can't stop moving, and is almost jumping from her spot in front of them. He's so relieved this is the reaction though – god knows his mother told him enough times about the nightmare he caused on the first day of school.

"I'm just making sure," Quinn says, straightening the coat hanging haphazardly on the four-year old. Her bag is pinning her coat on, but with the item being nearly bigger than Brooke herself, it's all very messy and disorganised. The kid doesn't mind at all, it bothers Quinn more than her. The blonde woman puts her hand on Brooke's cheek, stroking it to gain the girl's attention, "Have a good day, okay? If you need anything at all, just ask the teacher to ring me or Sam. We'll be here in a second and there won't be a problem."

Brooke sighs childishly, "I know."

Sam scoops her into a hug then, squeezing her tight, "Bear hug!" She laughs loudly, her legs kicking joyously under her and hitting Sam several times. He doesn't mind, it's not as if her kicks have any power to them. Quinn joins in after some encouraging words from Brooke, and they all stand there, hugging and laughing for a minute.

His treacherous, lecherous mind wonders for a minute if this is what it could have been like for him and Quinn.

Everyone clapped loudly as she was dipped low, her hair almost falling to the floor. Although it had been immaculate that morning, her hair was now a little looser, a little more tousled but he reckoned she looked just as good like that. Her partner leaned in to kiss her as she sat in his arms, earning a few wolf-whistles from the crowd, himself included. They looked perfect together out on that floor.

Realising it was coming up to his cue, Sam scanned the crowd around the dancefloor for his own partner. Rachel would kill him if he didn't kill this. He had been under strict instructions to lead the bridal party, him having the coveted title of Best Man. He heard more claps and turned to see Finn had swept Rachel back up to standing position, and his need to find Quinn became more urgent. Surely, the Maid of Honour was supposed to be three feet from the Bride at all times.

He finally found her standing closest to the couple and berated himself for not finding her sooner. She still looked ravishing, and he hated himself for thinking it. His mind never complied with his wishes when it came to her; earlier in the church was a prime example. He had to forcefully remind himself that he and Quinn were finished. She would never entertain a reunion after all that had happened. Too much had happened, too much hurt, devastation and cruelty.

Sam flashed her a wide grin as he gestured for her hand, bowing ever so slightly. Quinn accepted it with a smile of her own, twirling into his arms effortlessly. He hated that it was as if they never parted; their steps still sang the same song, still ever in sync and comfortable in that. In the corner of his eye, Puck and Kurt did the same with the other bridesmaids. As a shout-out to the times they met in, their song was a medley which sped up and slowed down and various stages. Sam and Quinn kept up from their Rachel-forced lessons, but the close proximity with her was something he wasn't accostomed to anymore. It made him sweat a little more, stumble once and his heart raced far beyond the required for dancing.

He was thankful when more couples began to join them on the dancefloor, and as the medley ended and the couple of the day kissed, neither he or Quinn were prepared for the next song. He knew it was placed at most events, that it was a renowned song, but for some reason assumed Rachel would prevent it from being played. Maybe it was narcissistic to think that.

He felt her stiffen slightly, her movements becoming slower as the song sped up. He pulled back to look at her, feeling the urge to shrug and laugh at the whole situation. Of course, the first time they've danced together and the first event they've been at since their split, and this was the welcome they received.

It convinced Sam the universe was trying to tell him something.

It seemed Quinn wasn't on the same page, or even in the same universe as him though, for she shook her head almost imperceptibly and dropped his hands. "That-that time is over."

It was a strange thing that his automatic reaction was to shout the words at her she made him listen to, "It wasn't over, and it still isn't over,"

That was the movies though. In reality, those words fell upon deaf ears.

A/N: Hey y'all... Sooo, I'll be super surprised if I HAVE any readers or reviewers left. It would really make my day if I did, though. I'm so sorry for such an embarrassing delay in updates, it won't happen again in this story. I really want to finish it and have a definite plan laid out. I had pretty bad writers block for a while, and still do, but now I'm determined to write through it. I know this chapter doesn't quite satisfy, but hopefully, the future ones will. I was too eager to update to write more. As for the last quote, it's from the Notebook of course. Not one of my favourite films tbh, my best friend made me watch it, but thought I'd throw it in in the moment.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, "The Notebook" or "Hey, ho!" by the Lumineers. Great, great song btw.

Thanks guys, I hope you enjoyed reading and please leave a review :)

CN.