Disclaimer: This is on is it not? Obviously I don't own anything.

Author's note: Not Lucy Caboosey compliant. I don't hate the new canon background story for Quinn, it just isn't going to work for this fic. :-)

Quinn Fabray growled softly to dispel the anxiety roiling her stomach, caused by the familiar action of tossing a dufflebag filled with all her worldly possessions into the small trunk of her beat up compact car. She was grateful for the early summer thunderstorm and the fat raindrops falling on her face washing away tears that had been sneaking up on her all afternoon as she packed her things. She didn't know why she was so emotional. There were no more pregnancy hormones flooding her system and this time she wasn't being kicked out of someone's home. No this time someone actually wanted her to live with them. She was getting ready to move back in with her mother. Her father, Russell Fabray had even gotten a taste of his own medicine. Her mother kicked him out after catching him having an affair, so going home wouldn't even mean facing him.

She climbed into her car, slamming the door shut. Cold rain dripped from her hair and clothes onto the cracked leather seats. Her hands shook and even putting the key in the ignition became difficult. If only she was shaking because she was cold. She rested her chin on the steering wheel as the car's interior light decided she had quite enough time to start the car and went out. Her eyes drifted longingly to the warm inviting lights of the Jones' family home. Quinn would never be able to thank Mercedes enough for taking her in when she had nowhere else to go, even though the two of them had never been particularly close; more than acquaintances but never quite friends. They had become closer after living together but Quinn was still surprised when Mercedes had told her that even though her mom had forgiven her, Quinn could stay at Mercedes' if she wasn't ready to be a Fabray again just yet. Quinn, I know we still don't have much in common, but you're family now understand? Don't ever think that no one will be there to catch you if you need help again.

Quinn brought a hand to her eyes, rubbing with annoyance at the new rivulets of salty water now leaking down her face in addition to the rain. Her skin felt hotter as she shoved the uncontrolled emotions that she couldn't handle back behind the mask she wore at almost all times, even when she thought she was alone. Maybe if she could just stay in character long enough, she could forget that underneath it all she was someone else. Suddenly it was much easier to see in the ominous darkness, and Quinn quickly started her car, further defying her inner self's desire to avoid conflict. After all if her family taught her anything, it was that unpleasantness could not be avoided if one was to gain success, so best to just have it done.

Resigned she backed her car out onto the nondescript suburban street, noting that no matter the side of town, all of the neighborhood roads in Lima looked so much alike. It was boring perhaps, but also comforting, all of those families having much the same experience. Her own house was set apart on its street, further back from the road and mostly obscured from view by old trees. She drove carefully, heavy rain and her car's wipers beating a steady rhythm augmented by a haunting eighties tune coming through her radio. But then a strange fear gripped me, and I just couldn't ask. Take me out tonight oh take me anywhere. The vague sense of discomfort she felt earlier returned along with an itching that was almost a burning sensation on her shoulder blades and in the small of her back. The male singer's voice continued to break through her thoughts, his tone a contradictory blend of subdued and desperate, a state of mind that Quinn knew well after the events of her sophomore year. Driving in your car, I never never want to go home. Because I haven't got one no, I haven't got one- Quinn gritted her teeth as the lyrics got too personal, but unlike her sometimes friend Santana, instead of hitting something or cursing Quinn merely reached over calmly to shut off the radio. She never really liked eighties music anyway.

When she was sitting stopped at a main street traffic light on her way to her side of town, Quinn allowed herself to be tempted by the sight of the local coffee joint's welcoming open sign. Sure she needed to get home, but what could be the harm in getting a little comfort caffeine first? Especially after so many months of unwillingly avoiding her favorite drug of choice for the baby.

Easily parking her car on the empty street, she half jogged to the door through the rain despite her clothes still being damp from earlier. The coffee shop was warm but mostly empty of customers as she hesitantly dried her shoes on the welcome mat before wandering over to place her order. Her stomach dropped when she realized she recognized the young barista from school, and that the slightly overweight girl who she'd attended celibacy club meetings with was looking over the counter at her with a poorly veiled look of judgment.

You think that just because I had to keep my head down last year that you're better than me now eh? Quinn narrowed her eyes as she debated calling the girl out on her sour face. "Can I just get a regular house coffee? Black."

"Caffeinated?" The girl asked in a slightly sarcastic and skeptical tone.

"What's the point of coffee otherwise?"

"I just didn't know if you should be putting chemicals like that in your system."

Quinn gritted her teeth at the false concern, "Look... Sara," she made a show of checking the barista's name tag, even though she hadn't actually forgotten her one time acquaintance's name. They'd gone to the same church together for over ten years after all. "I think even you know enough about how babies are made that you can tell I'm not pregnant anymore." What you thought I was ashamed to just have it out in the open here? Quinn kept eye contact with Sara, ignoring the older woman in the corner booth that she heard let out a scandalized gasp at the word 'pregnant'. As if the old busy-body hadn't recognized Quinn the moment she stepped foot into the restaurant.

Sara shrugged as she turned away from the counter, grabbing one of the house mugs and the coffee pot from the hotplate. "Whatever, how was I to know you hadn't made another mistake already. It's been a month, would be plenty of time since you're some slut now."

"Yeah Sara, you're right okay? I had sex once, obviously a slut." Quinn shot back, her voice becoming softer in volume even as her eyes narrowed dangerously, "But even if the sex wasn't the most amazing slightly drunken experience of my life so far, I will never regret it. I don't even like Puckerman that way, but getting knocked up with his kid was the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Are you crazy? It's a sin to have sex before you're married." Quinn rolled her eyes as Sara clunked the mug down on the counter next to the cash register. "And plus, your dad kicked you out and everyone at church is always talking about you."

"Yeah well. Getting disowned was one of the best parts of the whole experience." Quinn's heart lightened a bit as she realized how much she meant her words, "I'm not even talking to you about this anymore, except for one thing. My daughter, she was not a mistake." Sara just shrugged without speaking, and Quinn heard a couple of the older patron's scoffing openly as she payed. "Could I just get it in a to go cup?"

"So that I'll have gotten this mug dirty for no reason?" Quinn raised an eyebrow at her old friend to let her know just how much she didn't care about Sara's problems. "Whatever." The shorter girl grabbed one of the styrofoam cups and sloshed the hot liquid into it before shoving the coffee across the counter at Quinn, who accepted her drink before turning to head out the door, throwing Sara the bird over her shoulder as a parting shot.

Out on the darkened street Quinn had a bit of a dilemma. She still wasn't ready to home yet, and even if she was, she wouldn't have wanted to take her coffee home. In the past her mother would always lecture about not consuming any calories at night after dinner so that Quinn wouldn't burden her with the embarrassment of having 'the fat kid' at Sunday school. Even if we're beyond the point of mere embarrassment, old habits...

At least the rain had slowed to something more like a drizzle, and Quinn found herself smiling as she sipped her coffee, enjoying the feeling of the still hot liquid warming her from the inside. For a few minutes Quinn simply leaned against the side of the building within sight of the door just to annoy Sara with her continued presence. She scuffed her sneaker against the sidewalk, feeling a bit like a smoker indulging in her vice as the buzz of the caffeine began to kick in.

When she brought a hand up to swipe at the rain dripping down her nose, she noted with some surprise that there was a retail store across the street that she didn't recognize the name of with its lights still on. Absently she tossed her mostly empty coffee cup into a nearby trash bin as she contemplated. It was unusual; most stores on main street other than restaurants normally closed at six or seven on Sundays, and it was already later before she'd left Mercedes' house. A carefree smile quirked at Quinn's lips as she decided for the first time in far too long to indulge her simple childish curiosity, her shoes splashing through a few shallow puddles as she crossed the deserted street.

The bell on the door jingled cheerfully as she entered the store that seemed to be selling various antique knickknacks. Her smile widened as she inhaled the scent of old leather, wood polish, and burning wax from the candles that provided the store's lighting. If Quinn didn't know better she would have thought she'd traveled back in time several centuries, though as far as she knew Lima didn't even exist that long ago. As she began exploring the various shelves she wasn't surprised to note that she was the only customer in the store. Most people in Lima wouldn't be interested in this sort of place. Wonder how the owner managed to even open with the economy being so bad.

On the far wall there was a glass case filled with various medieval European weapons; several fancy looking swords, a few small war axes, many large knives along with some other weapons that seemed like hybrids of the others that Quinn couldn't identify by name. On another wall hung various folk instruments, from nylon-stringed classical guitars, banjos and mandolins, to wooden wind instruments. There were hand-made looking painted drums with animal hides stretched tight, and various shelves with used books of sheet music, not all of which had titles written in English.

Quinn idly ran her fingers over the dark smooth wood of one of the beautifully crafted mandolins, humming softly at the feeling of the thin, delicate strings. There had been an older man from her church who had been a talented player before he'd passed away during her freshman year. She could almost hear a soft melody in her mind as she remembered the sight of his large and gnarled old hands gliding with graceful care over the petite instrument. She'd always wanted to learn to play, but her parents had insisted on piano lessons instead, saying that piano was a more appropriate instrument for a young woman of her social standing. Not that Quinn didn't love playing piano, although she hadn't the time for lessons once she'd joined Cheerios. She wondered idly why she hadn't taken up the instrument last year after she got kicked off the team. Oh right, I was too busy being scared, homeless and pregnant to be thinking about acquiring a new hobby. With some reluctance she decided that today wasn't the day she would consider it either. At least not until she knew for certain that she could handle living with her mother again well enough to be making large purchases.

Instead she wandered around the isles in the middle of the store, entertaining herself as she examined the various old childrens' toys, house decorations and books. She normally would have walked passed the shelves with intricately carved stone dragon statues and what seemed to be fantasy books, since beyond reading the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings series, Quinn had never really considered herself interested in the genre. But her eyes were caught by a small white dragon with smoothly polished amber eyes holding a rough purple crystal in his front paws. His head was turned facing away from Quinn, and he seemed to be gazing at a particularly old book with a thick black leather cover.

Quinn let out a soft laugh at her own overactive imagination as she reached out to take the small book from the shelf. When she first opened the book she blinked in surprise as what had at first looked like picture-graphs turned out just to be words. God did I really get that little sleep last night when I was up late worrying about seeing my mom again? Humming along to the melody still running through her head, Quinn read over the first few pages that recounted a legend about an intelligent race older than humans, descended from dragons instead of apes; the gargoyles. She snorted in amusement. Gargoyles? Aren't those the stone decorations like the ones in the graveyard near my church? Still the story was intriguing to Quinn who was engrossed for several minutes before she shook herself out of the spell of the book, closing the cover and flipping it over to check to see if there was a price on it somewhere.

"I'm surprised to see a young woman your age taking an interest in the old ways."

She gasped, nearly jumping out of her own skin at the sudden other voice, before forcing herself to take a deep, calming breath as she turned towards the front of the store. "Well... I did always quite like the dragon in The Hobbit..." She admitted shyly, trying to make out the figure of the storekeeper behind the front counter. From his voice he sounded like a kind older man, but his whole body was shrouded in shadows in the candlelit store. Still even from just his silhouette Quinn could tell that he must be a large man. He wasn't very tall, but his shoulders were broader than even her father's, and he appeared to be wearing a cape of all things. Probably part of his costume for the store though... dressed like someone from an older time.

"Indeed?" The man asked, a smile in his slightly accented voice, "As I recall young Tolkien's dragon wasn't very friendly."

Quinn shrugged, unable to stop from smiling herself at talking of something so carefree and innocent as children's stories. Even so her answer came out more serious than she intended. "Still... he was the last of his kind. That's reason enough for anyone to be grumpy."

"It would be a lonely existence indeed." He allowed kindly.

"Um... I was surprised that you were open so late at night?"

The man chuckled, his deep voice resonating pleasantly through the room, "Actually I just opened shop a couple of hours ago. I've always been a night owl of sorts, I would never be able to run a store with normal hours." He shifted the cape he was wearing idly, "It's probably not the best for business, but I opened the store more as a hobby to keep me busy in my old age rather than with the expectation of making any money."

Quinn actually laughed lightly at the way the man's tone of voice sounded like he was telling her some scandalous secret. "Well I hope that by the time I'm your age I have the courage to do whatever I want as well."

"Hmm... Is there something that you wish to be doing that you feel you cannot?"

"Well... It's not that really." What would I even want to do if I could do anything? "I just... I already disappointed so many people last year. I just want to become someone that they could be proud of." Someone that she could be proud of... if we ever meet again. Quinn shook her head slightly as the emotion of giving up Beth snuck up on her again, raising her hand in an attempt to discretely brush away the tears burning in her eyes.

"Do you like the book?" The man asked gently. It was an obvious change of subject because he sensed that he'd made his guest uncomfortable, even so Quinn was grateful for his kindness.

"Yeah... I haven't read anything like this since I was a kid though... I'm probably too old to be reading about dragons and magic." She replied reluctantly.

"Nonsense. No one is ever too old to read about the children of the dragons. Besides, that's a legend passed down by my people, so I insist that you take it with you when you head home." Quinn found herself giggling again at his affectionate tone as she approached the counter to pay for the book, reaching for her purse. She blinked in surprise as the man took a pointed step back away from her and further into the shadows, raising his large hands in a gesture to indicate that she shouldn't come any closer. "Now now, I am not about to accept money from a kid your age, certainly not for that old thing."

"Well excuse me, I thought this was a store?" She questioned, half joking but half serious.

"Hmm... well it really only looks like a store. Its main purpose is to lure people in off the street to keep an old man from dying prematurely of boredom and loneliness." Quinn smiled awkwardly as he laughed loudly at his own joke, "Anyway like I said, you should head home now. Waiting won't make seeing her again any easier."

Quinn peered intently into the shadows, wondering how he knew or if he'd just guessed. "...Well anyway thank you..." She hesitated for a moment longer, knowing that she'd basically been dismissed just now but still reluctant to leave. "...maybe I'll come by again some other night to keep you company?"

"Shouldn't a girl your age be spending the summer having fun with her friends?"

I would if I thought I had any real friends... Granted she was always close with Brittany and Santana, but the last couple summers they'd mostly wanted to get drunk and go to parties... and given her own most recent experience with drunkenness that wasn't really an activity she felt comfortable participating in anytime soon. Rachel had also reached out to her repeatedly over this last year... But she'll probably want to spend her whole summer with Finn. She sighed softly and shrugged, "I love my friends, but sometimes I feel like I'm too old to spend too much time with them."

"Hmm. Well you're welcome to come by a few nights a week if you'd like. Still, give your friends a chance at least? Perhaps one of them can teach you to enjoy being young again." He chuckled, "Being old comes quickly enough without rushing things."

The night felt warmer when she stepped back out onto the street. Steam from the earlier rain floated up from the asphalt, shrouding it in thick fog as she walked to her car. Light from the streetlamps bounced off of the droplets of water making the normally dull town of Lima look more like something out of a Disney movie with a magical glow.

For all of her procrastination, finally arriving at her childhood home turned out to be rather anticlimactic. She'd felt too much like a guest to use the garage entrance of her own house, so she'd ended up awkwardly shouldering her giant dufflebag as she unlocked the heavy wooden front door, stumbling into the high-ceilinged foyer. Her mother had come running into the hallway because with all of the noise Quinn made, the poor woman likely thought someone was breaking in. Judy had scolded her for tracking rain and mud all over their professionally polished hardwood flooring before switching her glass of alcohol to her other hand so that she could give her daughter a stiff one-armed hug.

Even with the less than effusive welcome, Quinn quickly became overwhelmed and excused herself upstairs to put her things away and get to bed. It was only eleven, but she hadn't slept well the last few days and after their months of estrangement even a five minute conversation with her mother left Quinn feeling emotionally exhausted. By the time she'd dragged her things upstairs, changed out of her wet clothes and into some pajamas, and taken the time to locate her toothbrush in her bag so that she could brush her teeth, Quinn decided that she would just unpack her things in the morning. Five minutes later she was sprawled across her comforter on top of her still unmade bed and dozing off to sleep.

Unfortunately for Quinn her mind didn't seem content with allowing her even a full night's peace, and within a few hours she was tossing and turning, haunted by images of gentle, intelligent yet decidedly inhuman creatures being tortured and killed. The brutal murders were disturbing enough, but what had tears leaking from her eyes and her whole body shaking was the faces of the killers, all fair skinned and blonde. Through it all she could hear her father's voice, not sure if it was a memory or her mind's imagination, A man can only be righteous through driving out the devil. God smiles on His children who do great works in His name.

Quinn woke with an instinctively choked off scream of pain. The metal of the golden cross that she always wore, a gift from her parents when she'd turned ten, was burning painfully where it rested against her chest. The burning itching sensation on her back from earlier had also returned, if anything stronger than before. Her hands fumbled for what seemed like ages with the clasp on her necklace before she simply grasped the cross in her fist and pulled, breaking the clasp entirely. She hissed as the religious symbol's metal burned at the skin of her palm before she dropped it onto her bedside table. She glared at the one worldly possession that had given her any comfort these last nine or so months with betrayal shining in her eyes, half expecting her table to catch fire, though nothing of the sort happened.

Still half asleep she scuffed into the bathroom, roughly yanking her cotton pajama top over her head and turning around, awkwardly trying to get a good look at her still burning back. She frowned as she noticed the angry red crucifix-shaped burn on her chest, but the skin on her back was just as pale and smooth as always. Shrugging because she was still too tired to try and decipher any deeper meanings from apparently inexplicable events, Quinn grabbed some aspirin from the medicine cabinet that she swallowed with a handful of water. Her frown deepened further when she noticed the extra softness still covering her once glorious abs, though part of her felt almost comforted that she could still be moved by something so mundane. Ugh... maybe all of this is still some bad dream. Quinn pinched at the spare amount of unwanted fat. Consider this a warning that we're going running tomorrow stomach. Maybe if she could just get in shape enough to get back on the Cheerios this summer, her life could get back to normal. But no matter how exhausted she still was, this time Quinn laid in her bed for hours before she managed to drift back off to sleep, her dreams filled with things much more frightening than Sue Sylvester's demanding practice schedules.