Author's Note: I have been thinking about writing something like this ever since it became apparent to me that the writers changed their minds (or as I like to think of it, ruined everything). It is not beta'd, pretty biased and may contain things you might not like if you are an avid Kurt/Blaine, Sam/Mercedes, or Sam/Quinn shipper. This is basically my good-bye to Sam, and I hope that he lives on in fan fiction (and that I write more for my OTP, myself). Thanks for reading if you choose to do so.

They had all gathered in the ether, watching themselves cut to black as the credits rolled on Season 2, seeing themselves come alive again as the tour rolled from town to town, country to country. A few had feared for their lives during the summer controversy, but many of them were allowed to breathe sighs of relief and walk off into dormancy with the knowledge that they would soon be back - at least for another year.

Only one of them slumped further and further as Season 3 loomed in the near future. He had to watch the others go. Santana strutted away with her arms crossed, head held high and sporting that smug smirk that she did so well. Some of the guys gave him pats on the shoulder - not Finn, and he had to admit it hurt. Quinn didn't so much as give a glance back, and he blinked as her hair turned pink right before she disappeared into the fictional darkness. Mercedes looked so concerned as she wrapped her arms around him. They shared an embrace, and his hold tightened as he kissed the top of her head. He thought this was how it was going to go - that they were dating. But she jerked away, eyes communicating an apology before she hastened into the arms of someone darker, someone larger. Someone that the world deemed more appropriate...

He frowned and tried to place those words in his mind - in his life - as Puck's hand slammed down on him.

"Don't ever tell anyone this, but the Beiber experience was kind of awesome," he said, "even if the kid's not a Jew. You were alright, Evans." Puck sighed. "Guess I'll never find out about those balls, though."

Sam looked up at him, but both were distracted again when Puck's hand seemed to slip through Sam's shoulder. They shared a look of confusion before Puck shrugged and sauntered into wherever it was that they waited during down time. Sam leaned forward and slapped his hands down on his knees, giving a start when his appendages flickered. His face took on another level of pallor, and it took him a while to swallow the large lump in his throat.

He knew, of course. He just couldn't believe it. Didn't want to. When they first started hearing the rumors, they all laughed. He was going to be with Mercedes. They had all chipped in to get him his guitar back - he was a member of New Directions, whether they liked it or not. That's what everyone thought, until it just wasn't true. Their creators kept saying it, over and over again, pummeling him in a way that he hadn't been pummeled since...since when?

Sam gritted his teeth, wanted to yell out. What happened? Did I do something to offend you?

Sam shook his head. He knew those words. He'd meant those words, now and one other time. He let out a loud huff and sprawled out in the space. He stared out into the darkness around him and tried to understand it, but he couldn't bring himself to close his eyes. This wasn't just sleeping he was facing here. It was extinction. Yeah.

Sam's mouth stretched into a thin line and he was suddenly very aware of the rise and fall of his own chest. The way that he could move his arms and legs, and see them. He liked seeing. Sam drank in this limbo he dwelled in, eyes beginning to itch - but he still wouldn't close them. He liked having eyes - he liked nice eyes. Lor Menari.

Sam allowed himself to blink. He had said and meant that, too. These were memories - or parts of memories. He knew what memories were. Like he remembered loving Quinn...but then, he didn't anymore. He didn't even think about her. At one point, he wasn't really friends with Finn. In fact, Finn had been a total jerk to him - but that didn't bother him either. He hosted a night of neglect, and he took Mercedes to prom and he got to be a zombie at a football game (totally awesome!) but the things he had said were older memories. Things that didn't matter anymore- things he was supposed to forget...

But they rushed at him now as his solidity ebbed. He remembered his birth.

He used all of his energy now, every fiber of his last thought to conjure someone, and his efforts were rewarded as his translucent hand closed around the warm, palpable flesh of Kurt Hummel's arm. Kurt started as he looked into Sam's face. Kurt's mouth formed a little moue, and Sam was just as startled as he met Kurt's perplexed expression.

"...Do I know you?"

"Yes." Sam was glad to hear his voice loud and clear. "I was created for you."

Kurt squinted and inclined his head. "Uh huh. I hate to tell you this, but your level of crazy is

only topped by Rachel Berry. I'm with the one who was created for me. He's my teenage dream."

"Yeah, but-" Sam sighed. "Kurt. Kurt Hummel, right?"

Kurt looked around, as if he could escape Sam. Sam grabbed him by his shoulders, and Kurt tried to wrench away. Okay - so everyone had already forgotten him. Sam hadn't even remembered all of these things that happened, and he only had one season to think about! But he had been designed to forget. Kurt was a different story. Sam's eyes narrowed at Kurt, and he gambled.

"I don't dye my hair, dude."

"Yes, you do. But it's just between friends - that's not natural." Kurt jumped and pressed his fingers to his lips, eyes rounded.

Sam gripped him tighter as his hands vascillated between flesh and ghost.

"Who-why-"

"Do you remember Karofsky?"

Kurt nodded, intent on Sam's face.

"And you transferred out of McKinley, even though we proved we could protect you." Sam brought Kurt's hand up to his eye, and Kurt's fingers trembled as he touched a purple and red bruise that was there.

"Especially Sam." Kurt shook his head. "Sam Evans."

Sam smiled, and Kurt frowned.

"But how could I forget you? I never forget a crush." Kurt blushed.

Sam shrugged. "I think it's because I don't really exist anymore."

"But I'm talking to you."

"For now." He flashed his hands at Kurt, and Kurt finally noticed how insubstantial Sam was. "I don't know how long I'm gonna be here like this."

Sam shrugged again, and was grateful that he was see-through in that moment. He was sure that he would be blushing if he was all there.

"It wasn't a great year for me, I think. So...I guess I just wanted to, ah, see what I missed out on."

Kurt raised an eyebrow as Sam's arms encircled his waist. Kurt tried to step back, but Sam was the stronger of the two. He urged Kurt closer, and Kurt didn't really have a choice. Sam hated to be forceful, hated the nervousness in Kurt's eyes, but took some courage from the faint glimmers of trust there.

Looking into Kurt's face, practically eye to eye, Sam felt peace. For the first time since Furt, he had a purpose. This embrace was not the surface perfection of one with Quinn, or the embarrassing forcefulness of holding Santana; not even the overwhelming sweetness of Mercedes in his arms. This was harmony. Right.

Kurt gave a nervous giggle and leaned away from Sam. He managed to bring his hands before him and clap, breaking Sam's concentration.

"Ha! I knew you were on team gay. My gaydar is alive and well, circa 2010. Eleven. Whatever."

Sam thought about that assertion. "Maybe not team gay."

"Then why are you holding me like this? It's making me a little uncomfortable. Sam?"

Sam pulled Kurt flush against his body, and his impending inexistence pierced him again. Here he was, waning like the moon, yet feeling firmer than ever. He pressed his hands into Kurt's back and felt the gentle give of it. Kurt opened his mouth to speak again, but Sam stopped him by nuzzling his cheek. He felt the movement of Kurt's gasp against his nose, and Sam breathed in deeply. He had willed Kurt here, and it was time to act.

Sam brought his lips to Kurt's, and together they relived every interaction, direct or indirect. Everything they said to each other, did for each other...and what was unsaid. And best and worst of all, everything that had been meant to be - fights, angst, love and laughter. There was Sam, proudly wearing the Prom King crown as Kurt marched to the stage. Kurt let them put the tiara on his head, stared down his nose at the crowd and gave a scathing speech with not one tear in his eye. Sam did not run away as they descended the steps together for their first dance. He embraced Kurt without fear, the way that Kurt had taught him to over the course of the season. At the end of this prom episode, Sam declared his love.

Sam drew back, squeezing Kurt once before releasing him from his arms. Kurt's eyes were full of unshed tears. Sam watched Kurt embrace himself with trembling limbs, his expression lost - until he looked at Sam. O'el ngati kameie.

"Oh, my god. Why wasn't it you?"

"Kurt? Hey!" They both turned their heads as Blaine stepped into limbo, radiating both happiness and surprise.

"What are you doing here, silly? And who is that? We should be getting ready for the show." The warbler waved a hand down his body, showing off his newly non-blazered and un-gelled self in excitement.

Kurt swiped away his tears, sniffling. Sam tried to stuff his hands into his pockets, and shuttered inside when they wouldn't go in. He didn't even feel the denim against his skin. Blaine looked on, his brows furrowing in worry.

"Kurt? You coming?" Blaine reached out a hand.

Kurt looked to Sam, to his past and future that wasn't. He drew his hand back several times before finally reaching for Sam's face. His breath hitched as his fingers passed through Sam's cheek, stroking air. Sam did the same to him, and Kurt closed his eyes and imagined the caress of a light breeze. When he opened them, Sam said something. The faint sound missed Kurt's ear.

"What?"

"It means 'remember me.'"

Kurt nodded, then cast his eyes toward Blaine. "Coming."

Sam lifted a hand at Kurt's departing back. Kurt took Blaine's extended hand, and Blaine visibly relaxed. The two boys walked away hand in hand, swinging them every so often. Kurt laughed at something Blaine said, and Blaine beamed back at him.

Still, Kurt looked back, catching Sam's eyes with his own before disappearing into the darkness. And Sam felt some joy as his being became light and he faded into vapor, into nothing.