*Authors Note* - Oh boy, you're all going to hate me for this chapter. 1. Because Rachel is not in it and 2… well you'll have to read it! I am very sorry for the late update, as I have stated in precious AN's I am involved in Marching Band and Drama Club so finding the time to write it difficult. I started this chapter last week and today was the day the rest of it came to me, so I wrote it and now I am publishing it! I can say that ending this chapter I have realized Spinning Out will be ending soon, I've got the end of the story in mind, but don't worry there is plenty of chapters and plot events to keep you entertained until then. But what I would like to say is thank you so much for sticking through this with me, reading my story, and enjoying my take on the Glee characters :)

Reviews, Favorite Author/Story, Story Alerts, all of it makes me so happy and I thank you! Enjoy this chapter and please review!

Chapter 17

Blaine leaned against the wall, and took a long drag from the cigarette he had in his mouth. He couldn't get the conversation he had with Rachel the previous night out of his head. It was still a shock to him the fact that they were together. He hadn't done something like this since Ellie, but it was even more complicated with Rachel. She was too smart for him. His entire history is in his body, and she knew to ask him about the piercings and tattoos; and he had told her. A month ago he never would've done that.

He was supposed to be in Tech Ed this period, but Blaine already knew how good he was with his hands and he didn't need a grade to tell him. He wanted to text Rachel to meet him out here by his bike, but this was the period when she had class with Hummel, and neither one of them would let Rachel skip out.

So instead, Blaine came out on his own, liking the fact he got a little alone time. It left him alone with his thoughts, but Blaine tried not to read too much into his own brain. He learned only recently that doing so only screwed him over.

When Blaine reached the edge of his cigarette, he tossed it on the gravel and crushed it beneath the heel of his boot.

Then he felt a sharp pain in his head and shoulders.

"What the fuck did I tell you Anderson?" Blaine shut his eyes, either to lessen his headache or to protect his eyes from Finn's flying spit. "I told you to stay away!" Blaine's head was pounding, and it was almost a struggle to open his eyes. He tried to shove Finn off, but the guy was bigger in weight and height and it was all pinned into Blaine, and all he got in return was Finn pushing him deeper into the brick wall.

"Ugh," Blaine grunted. "Where are your friends?" He gritted through his teeth, looking around and not seeing anyone. "The surprise-attack only works one, and it's unlikely it would work on me once, so it's impossible for it to work another time."

"I can handle you all by myself," Finn growled, and leaned back, pulling Blaine by his collar to shove him on the ground. Blaine did his best to stop himself from face planting, but there was too much momentum. He ended up landing harshly on his knee, but didn't hit the ground fully.

Finn looked like a charging bull, the way his shoulders huffed up and down from his heavy breathing. Blaine stood as tall as he could in front of the football player, and did his best not to wince at the pain in his knee and the fact he couldn't straighten it properly. Promise me, you'll walk away tomorrow, Blaine could hear Rachel's voice, promise. Blaine pressed his lips into a tight line, thinking about how he had promised. "I'm out of here," He said after a moment, struggling to turn around and away from Finn.

"Oh I don't think so," He heard him say, before he felt Finn's hand on his back, forcing him to the ground. "I let you walk away the other day, and I'm not going to let you do that again. You said I wasn't a challenge, Anderson, why don't you own up to your big talk."

Blaine's jaw was smashed into the concrete and small bits of gravel bit at his cheek. He paused there for a moment, thinking about how easily he could normally get out of this situation, but he couldn't do that. "I can't."

"Damn right you can't." And that was the last thing Blaine heard before he blocked everything out. He used all his will not to fight back, because he had promised her, and he wasn't about to disappoint Rachel again. So Blaine stayed there and he took it, listening to the grunts as her let Finn toss him around like he was nothing and feeling all the punches that Blaine most likely could've blocked.

After what seemed like forever it stopped and Blaine's entire body began to ache. He could feel the pain in his knee, the swollenness of his eye, the bruising around his ribcage and how he was struggling to breathe. Blaine couldn't tell if the sweat on his face was really sweat, or if Finn had spit on it. Either way wasn't even done with Blaine.

He struggled to open his good eye, the sun causing it to water automatically, but what he saw was almost as awful as if he had seen it clearly. Only about a foot or so away, where Blaine's motorcycle was resting, Finn was holding a crow-bar and breaking every single mirror or light he could find on it after having torn a whole in the large leather seat. Blaine closed his eyes again, but he couldn't stop the sound. Every clash of the metal against metal made Blaine cringe.

"There. Now you're bike is as big of a piece of shit as you are." He heard Finn say, but he couldn't bring himself to look at him, much less what his bike might look like. "If you're going to learn anything, it should be this lesson Anderson. Don't be crossing the lines from loser to popularity."

Blaine winced as Finn's foot pressed into his side and rolled him over. He wondered if getting up now would be a good idea. It might prompt the football player to beat on him even more, but then Blaine thought if he didn't get up now he wouldn't be able to later. It didn't really matter, because when Blaine looked up, he didn't see anything that was Finn. The boy had pushed Blaine's bike, and it was falling on top of him.

Blaine raised his arms, quickly, ignoring the pain in them to shield his face, and he bit his lip so hard, he drew blood, when the machine crashed into his arm. He felt a pop in his shoulder, but couldn't feel his left arm or his right hand at all.

When it was silent and still, Blaine let out a moan of pain, knowing Finn had finally left. He tried to push his bike off, but couldn't even move his arms from where they were crossed to lift it. When he tried, Blaine let out a weak crying sound, he never thought he could make. He stayed still for a moment contemplating how to get out from underneath his bike. It was about 600 pounds and making it harder than it already was for him to breathe but he knew he couldn't lift it.

Wondering, Blaine started to shift on the ground, to the right where the bike hadn't had fallen on him. "AHH!" He yelled, when a broken part of his bike pierced his shoulder, and for a moment, Blaine thought he might black out from the pain. Pausing, and taking a deep breath, Blaine did his best to ignore the pain, and he made it halfway out from under the bike before the pain became too great for him to move and he cried out again.

"Blaine?" He then heard someone say his name. Don't be Rachel, please, don't be Rachel. He silently pleaded; he didn't want her to see him like this. But instead, when the person knelt beside him he saw not the pink of Rachel's skirt, but the pink of Quinn's hair. "What the hell happened to you? And your bike?"

Blaine groaned, half in pain, and half in thinking that the only person worse than Rachel finding him like this would be Quinn. She didn't wait for him to answer, as she lifted the edge of the bike, just enough to push it off and away from Blaine.

Quinn heard an odd noise when she moved the motorcycle and wondered if it was coming from there, until she turned around and saw Blaine's ragged breathing, realizing that it was him. She leaned over him, trying to ignore the tell-tale signs of pain, and brushed back the curls from his sweaty face. "Blaine?" He heard he say, "Blaine, say something, I need to know that your brain isn't as smashed on the inside as you look on the outside."

"Go away," Blaine clenched his teeth. He knew his entire left shoulder and arm was gone, so he tried to prop himself up on his right hand, until he felt pain in his wrist and it gave out underneath him.

"Same old Blaine," Quinn muttered, before reaching down to help him up. He didn't push her away. Instead he was looking down at his bike, the handlebars were twisted and his taillights were smashed, the piping alone the edges were crushed and the throttle was off to the side a couple feet away. "Don't worry," Quinn told him, "I know someone who can fix it, but right now we need to fix you."

She began to walk away, but Blaine opposed. "We can't leave it here!"

"It'll be here when you get back," Quinn snapped. "Listen, it's in a shit condition right now so no one is going to take it and no one goes back there anyways so it's not going to be thrown out. Forget about it right now, I need to get you somewhere else."

Blaine didn't have the energy to argue with her, and he followed her lead as she led them to her car. Quinn opened up the back doors, and told him to lie down. He did so, but couldn't stop himself from inhaling sharply. Curious, Quinn told him, "Roll over. Let me see your shoulder." He didn't have much of a choice, because she reached it and did it herself. "I'm not sure about your arm yet, but you dislocated your shoulder. It's going to be better if I fix it here, so it's not so painful while I'm driving."

"Do it." Blaine told her.

"It's going to hur-"

"I know, I've dislocated it before, just do it!" He snapped, and then prepared himself, biting his lip, as Quinn forcefully put his shoulder back into place. The pain was there, but the relief came quickly and Blaine felt like he could almost breathe again. Quinn closed the door and climbed into the driver's seat.

Blaine did his best to stay up on the backseat, when Quinn took turns, but when he felt them take a left turn instead of a right at a light, Blaine sat up. "Take me home," He demanded, looking out and seeing a pristine neighborhood, unlike the one he liked in.

"No." Quinn said, taking a left on a residential street.

"I mean it Fabray. Take me home."

"Shut up, Blaine! I have everything I need at my house. I can't take care of you at your house, when it's not even a house, it's a fucking shed."

"Who said I needed someone to take care of me?" Blaine spat, leaning between the two front seats to talk to her. Quinn didn't answer until she pulled into a driveway so fast, Blaine almost had whiplash. He leaned against the door of the car, groaning softly from the impact.

Quinn got out of the car and walked around to the side he was on, whipping the door open harshly, seconds after he had moved away so he wouldn't fall. "Look at you!" Quinn barked. "You're moaning and groaning like a little girl. You've most likely got a broken arm, you can't walk without limping, and you're breathing like you have asthma. If you want to walk all the way back to Lima Heights, fine, be my guest, but sooner or later you need to stop feeling sorry for yourself and let someone help you for once!"

Blaine narrowed his eyes, but bit his tongue, and made himself get out of her car. "Fine, but after you need to drive me back home."

"Fine." Quinn said, exhaling from finally getting him to work with her. She led them both inside, kicking their shoes off. "Lie down on the couch." Quinn told him. "I'm going to grab some things, and I'll be right back." Blaine did, and waited for her, as he did he became more known to the pain spreading through his body. "Here," Quinn said when she entered the room once more. She was holding out a bottle of tequila and a lugging a big box in her other hand. "Drink, it might not work for emotional pain, but it sure does for the physical kind."

Blaine took the bottle and untwisted the cap. There was no denying he was in pain, she could obviously see it, and he figured no harm would come if he indulged in a little bit of alcohol. He'd been through a hell of a beating.

Quinn began to unfold the box, revealing plenty of first aid equipment and even more advanced things, that the Fabray household had access too. Blaine recalled that Quinn's mother was a doctor. "Put this on your eye." She handed him what looked like an eye patch. "The patch is a cooling device, so you don't have to numb your whole forehead with a stupid brick-sized ice pack." He put it on with difficulty, using on his bad wrist, but the pain on his eye was relieved as he felt the advanced-patch working.

"Okay, now I need you to take your shirt and pants off." Quinn told him.

"No." Blaine said strongly.

"I need to get a better look at your skin, Blaine." She rolled her eyes. "Trust me, you've got nothing I haven't already seen."

"That's not it, Quinn." Blaine said, clenching his teeth. "I already know it'll hurt too much, it's not that I don't want to, it's that I know I won't be able to without crying like a baby."

Quinn laughed. "Then I'll do it. Like I said, it's nothing I haven't done before."

Blaine couldn't argue with that, but he didn't laugh with her either. His head was staring to hurt, from a regular headache, and he just wanted to get this over with. And Quinn knew it, so she quickly helped undress him. Blaine winced when she pulled off his jeans, but it was his shirt he was the most concerned about.

"Just lift your arms straight up-"

"I know how a girl undresses me Fabray," Blaine told her. He lifted his right arm first, and it didn't hurt much at all, but when it came time for the left, he couldn't even raise it to his chest.

"How much do you like this shirt?" Quinn then asked.

"What?" Blaine looked down, too quickly, and his vision blurred, but he was able to make out that he was wearing a black t-shirt, one he had about three other identical ones in a drawer back at his house.

"If you can't lift your arm," She said, leaning down into the doctoring box. "I'm going to have to cut your shirt open." Quinn held up a pair of thin medical scissors.

"Go for it,"

It took her a while to cut it open the way she needed to without hurting him because the scissors where maybe about two inches long, but eventually Quinn got it off and she began to look at his injuries.

"You're knee is busted up pretty bad but nothing too serious." She told him as she wiped at it with an alcohol pad. Which reminded him of the bottle sitting next to him, and Blaine took another drink. "Minor cuts and bruising, it should be good as new in about a week if you remember to ice it." Then she moved onto his wrist. Quinn gently took it in her hand, and began to examine it, touching it in certain places and listening to his reaction. "A sprain, at the least," She concluded. "There are lots of tiny bones in the wrist, so if it hurts even more later on you should get it X-Rayed. Until then, I'll just wrap it for you." Quinn produced a Ace bandage, and wrapped it around Blaine's wrist, using metal hooks to keep it in place.

"The worse injuries you have I think is your ribcage and arm." Quinn said as she squinted her eyes. "Let me do this for a moment," She told Blaine, before letting her fingers run along his chest. They were small and nimble, but efficient as she pressed in where his ribcage was before nodding her head. "You don't have a broken rib bones, but it's very deep bruising. It'll take a while for that to heal. I'm going to have to wrap that for you too, here, stand up Blaine."

Quinn helped him up, and he wobbled a little bit, but Blaine wasn't too sure it was from his ankle. The tequila was starting to affect more than just his tolerance for pain. "Whoa, okay, no more for you." Quinn said, realizing it as well. "Just stay still." She lifted out a pad of gauze that was just wide enough to cover his rib, and Blaine wondered if it was made specifically for that. "Lift you arm, just a bit, so I can go all the way around," Quinn told him when she came to his bad arm. She wrapped the bandage around his torso about two times before pinning it into place. "It'll restrict your breathing, but it'll help with healing. Now come on, sit back down, it's time for me to look at your arm."

Quinn was careful not to touch his arm, but got pretty close when looking at it. "I can tell it's broken. There's no doubt about that. It absorbed most of the impact from the bike, which probably saved it from crushing your goddamn lungs." Quinn shook her head. "I can't do much about it, you'll have to go to the hospital and get it x-rayed and properly-casted. I have a cast in here, and a sling, but it's only temporary, do you hear me Blaine?" She asked, looking straight at him. "You need to go to the hospital and get it checked out. Don't settle just for my crappy examinations."

"Quinn, you know I don't have the medical insurance to go to the hospital," Blaine said slowly, as she began to put his arm in the cast, doing his best to talk through the pain. "Goddamn it!" He cried when she touched it too harshly. "Do you have any fucking morphine in there?"

"No, only tequila." Blaine almost forgot, but when he reached for it, Quinn slapped his hand away. "No more. You're already drunk."

"No I'm not," He protested, as she snapped the cast in place. "Who gets drunk off of two glasses of tequila?"

Quinn chuckled, as she stood up on her knee's to put the sling over his head. "Silly Blaine. You didn't have two glasses, you drank straight from the goddamn bottle."

"Whatever," Blaine muttered, as she lifted his arm into the sling. "Thank you," He said quietly. "For doing all this for me, and for warning me about Hudson,"

"If I warned you, why did you let yourself get busted up so bad?" Quinn asked, with a smile on her face.

"I promised Rachel I wouldn't fight him." Blaine said, shrugging with the one good shoulder her had. "I wasn't going to break that promise."

Quinn nodded but didn't say much more. She looked like she was thinking very hard, so Blaine waited. "I'm sorry," She said suddenly. "For being a bitch to you. You didn't deserve it."

Blaine turned away from her. "You're right, I didn't."

"And I thought telling you about Hudson would help, but it made things even worse. I really just want my friend back." Quinn licked her lips, and reached over to gently turn his face back to hers. "I want you back, Blaine."

Blaine wasn't sure what to say. His head was spinning right now, with many things making it turn. The fact that he had drank about half a bottle of Tequila, his broken arm, and other injuries. Quinn's apology confused him even more, and just as he was beginning to gather his thoughts, Quinn made her move.

Her lips pressed against his, shattering all his thoughts away once more.