Disclaimer: I do not own Camp Rock.

A/N: This is a very short drabble for ArielMooreFan over in the One Hundred and One Forum. She picked a prompt (angel) and pairing (Jess). Sorry this is so short, but my thoughts on this were conceptual rather than narrative.

Tess couldn't count the number of times she'd been likened to an angel. There was just something about her pale blonde hair, blue eyes and porcelain skin that seemed to invite the comparison. And then there were the toadies around her who were always willing to gush that she sang like an angel.

Tess usually shot back that she was pretty sure that an angel wouldn't sing "Too Cool."

She despised all those people – the teachers who cast her as the angel in the Christmas pageant every year; the groupies who thought complimenting her 'heavenly voice' would get them in good with her mom; even her idiotic first boyfriend who wanted to use the term as a pet name for her so he could get to second base.

Because Tess knew she was no angel; she knew every petty, mean, selfish thing that she had ever done. She could still picture the looks on her victims' faces as she ripped them apart or tricked them into giving up their own dreams of shinning. She knew how to exploit people's weaknesses, and in the past, she had never hesitated to use that knowledge. She was no angel.

But she knew what a real angel looked like. Not a stereotypical angel with wings and a glowing, golden halo like people pictured when they saw Tess, but a person who was too good to be true. Someone who could make you want to become a better person just because he was in your life. Someone who could know all of your faults and still love you. Someone who could look at you and not judge you by your past mistakes, but believe that you could change and grow.

It turned out that Tess' real angel was a bumbling, airheaded rock star with a bird obsession and an extensive collection of skinny jeans. And when he smiled at her, she almost felt like an angel herself.