Dear Krampus

by loungelizard85

Something of an angsty parody with a creamy, though bitter sweet Karley/WildeRose filling. I own nothing, absolutely nothing. Contains sassy, but not bitchy, Bree. Set just before and after the end of 2013, one year ahead of current canon timeline.

A/N: Late holiday present of sorts, I guess. Take note that not everything is as it appears-obviously- and that the young girl hears a more cleaned up version then the audience does. Second part should be up twelve hours before 2013 is up. Enjoy.

Rest ye merry gentleman…

Rest ye merry gentleman…

Pushing a few strands of wispy hair out of her face, where they irritated her eyes, the two tedious actions, the other the skipping record, blended together in the form of a scowl on the woman's thin, but otherwise flawless face, as she pulled the needle off its short repetitive tract.

"Does your mother insist on everything around the holidays to be so…well aged?" From under the blanket atop the nine year old girl of which it was pulled to just under her sea-foam green eyes, came a response.

"That was papa's idea."

"Was it 'papa's' idea to call him papa?" There was a pause.

"I don't know."

"Never mind." Seeing this as an opportunity to rebel against her slightly earlier than normal bed time, this being Christmas Eve, the young girl shook off her fabric cocoon, and pull a record from a shelf adjacent to the bed.

"Here, play this one. That 'wooo' voice was creeping me out, anyways. It was like being in church."

"And that's a bad thing?" Asked the woman, eyebrows raised.

"In your bedroom?" Responded the girl pointedly. The woman nodded at her logic. Glancing at the record label, and catching a glimpse of the word 'King' in large lettering, she nodded towards the recording.

"Elvis?" The young girl shook her head, causing he frame cut of raven black hair to reveal an ear for a moment.

"It's Jazzman," she said, pointing to the label, "by Carole King." The woman silently took the record and, sparing the recording of God Rest ye Merry Gentlemen a scathing glance; set the recording on a softer volume than its predecessor.

Lift me, won't you lift me, above the old routine,

Make it nice; play it clean, Jazzman- a great crescendo rose as songstress' did, broken by a saxophone solo while the youth tilted from side to side in some generic beat.

"Isn't it time you get back to bed?" said the woman as Mrs. King sang about a style that's sanctified. The little girl pouted.

"But it's so early; and Santa doesn't come till midnight, so why can't I stay up?" Feeling it was poignant, and that the girl would wait for an answer, allowed the verses of take my blues away and make my pain the same as yours to ring out before answering over the instrumental and cries of Jazzman, oh, Jazzman.

"Why don't I tell you a story, then?" Honestly, she didn't have an answer, it was just it took a while to get to sleep, and the earlier the better, more time for her son and daughter-in-law to put the presents around the tree.

The girl considered this, and decided to relent crawling into bed and resuming her impression of some sort of microwavable filling in a blanket bun.

It's the darkness of his soul… Well, not 'his' soul, exactly.

"What's the story about, grandma?" The girl used her tile in order to get the woman's attention from her reverie.

"What do you know about Krampus?"

"He scares the bad children when Santa doesn't feel like it," the girl looked at her cockeyed, "is this going to be one of those stories where the moral is why I should stay in bed, cause the Krampus is gonna get me?"

"Shush, child, not every story has a stupid moral," said the grandmother playfully. "Besides, this is a story from when I was a girl."

"Was it handed down throughout the ages?"

"How old do you think I am?" The girl formed an 'o' with her lips.

"Oh, so it's a story about you." The grandmother gasped in mock offense.

"Is that not good enough for you?"

The girl giggled, "Yes, tell it, tell it!"

"All right, calm down. We have all night, as it's so early…" she teased.

"You're mean."

"You're supposed to be asleep.

"You're supposed to be telling me a story."

"Then listen, and try to sleep." The girl remained quiet, but her eyebrows remained arched in anticipation. "Same time of year, but many years ago-"

"How many?"

"Didn't I tell you to listen?"

"Yes, that's how I heard about many years, but not how many."

"If you'll listen, I'll tell you."

"No, cause, in stories, many years always means there's so many, the person telling the story forgot."

"So, if I forgot, why ask?"

"Cause maybe you don't want to remember." The grandmother paused.

"More than fifty years ago, happy?" The grandmother frowned at herself; she was curter than she had meant to be. The girl nodded, apparently oblivious, or still thought this was part of their earlier game, and so the grandmother quickly resumed the story. "Nearly to the day, I should say, as it was just before the winter vacation and I was eager to start the festivities…"

"And on the tenth day of Christmas this-stupid-glee-club gave to me… twelve performances I don't care about, eleven minutes wasted, ten vein's a bursting, nine teeth a grinding, eight feet of snow falling, seven overeager classmates, six Dear-God-please-take-me's, five teachers just standing around, four awkward moments, three minutes since my patience ended, two just-a-little-bit-longer, and an infuriating Mr. Shuester ped-a-gogy."

The glee club had apparently been generous- given that it gave an irate Kitty three gifts on what would have been the first day. Kitty had held the note under her breath in the hope that as her rendition of the song's final verse ended, Jake Puckerman, the school's reformed, and thereby, former bad boy, would get on with his performance for the Christmas themed set that, if Kitty had to explain the choice would be something akin to a dying star: beating the same tired themes with one caveat- be creative about it- would elicit some new avenues of song selection that could still be performed well.

And Jake seemed to take this to heart if his last minute preparations were any indication; granted, last minute preparations were the group's forte, as most of their selections were built around spontaneity.

But Jake had taken the first slot, and so, until he went the others couldn't as the other's had specific time constraints, like a partner that wouldn't show up until a certain time, or a prop they hadn't think to bring yet, and today was the last chance to present. Kitty had taken the ninth in their full roster, and sitting next to her, Marley had taken the last, and beside her, Bree having joined a bit after her episode with the boy in question, had taken the spot just behind him, and had glared at Kitty when she began to make a ribald remark.

"Where is he?" Kitty finally voiced her comments, looking down at the freshman who had replaced their diminished ranks after the seniors had left, eager to get their performances underway, but not merely to get through them.

"Well, Ryder's helping him, so it shouldn't be that long," Marley soothed.

"It's already been that long," Kitty fussed back, which evidently forced Marley to change tactics.

"Big plans for the holiday?" Kitty knew what she was doing but decided it would be more fun to play along.

"Extended family's coming over. What? So I like the house full of people when it gets very cold and dark, very soon in the day-like it is now."

"I didn't say anything, Kitty."

"I wasn't talking to you, I was answering Ersatz Eyebrow's look of what I assume may be surprise, or just her hearing human speech and turning her head in our direction-I can't be sure." Bree regarded the agitated Kitty calmly.

"If you enjoy your relatives visiting from seemingly every corner of the globe," Kitty could tell she wasn't talking about hers, "you are in the minority." Marley intermediated, as if she could predict Kitty's counter addressing the girl's race.

"Too many at your house, then?"

"I'm sharing my room with four other people," Bree lamented as Kitty rolled her eyes.

"I'm sharing mine with six, and a bathroom with ten; you don't see me complaining." Bree furrowed her brow.

"Twelve to a bathroom, Chipmunk, and if I have to hear 'that's how we do it in South Central' when my cousin shoves me out of the way in the morning one more time, because, of course they arrive two weeks early, even though they call this the 'sticks' and all the others, all they want to do is argue whether or not Mayor De Blasio's end to stop and frisk is good or bad or if he can really end it at all," Bree's words were marred some as she ended her sentence in a mock sob, before adding, "I can't read another issue of the New York Daily News, Marley, I-I can't!" Bree let her head drop onto Marley's shoulder as the girl patted her shoulder lightly.

"Don't call me 'Chipmunk'," demanded Kitty unhelpfully. Bree picked up her head as Marley sighed.

"If the puffy cheek fits…" Kitty leaned over as Bree leaned in, and the tall brunette in the middle grabbed both by the shoulders, mostly because they had nearly thrown Marley off her chair.

"Look, it's not a contest, and Bree you do realize that 'Chipmunk' is considered by most to be a term of affection, rather than an insult?"

"If it pisses her off, then it works for me."

"If she keeps whining about it through the entire meeting than I take full responsibility for showing her what an ungrateful brat she's being." Kitty pushed up against Marley's grasp but kept the distance between her and Bree. Marley looked to the ceiling, and groaned. "Where the heck is Jake?"

"That's what I said. I'm pretty sure I saw the janitorial staff a minute ago. We're the only ones in the school."

"Exaggerate much? But you are right: I think we're rubbing off on her."

"I wouldn't be surprised; with your drawn on eyebrows and that you were using her shoulder as a head rest five minutes ago."

"Enough! The two of you bicker like Quinn and Santana, and," Marley paused, glancing at each of them pointedly, "we all know how that turned out. So unless you want people to start spreading rumors about how much of this fighting is "real", just give it a rest. Okay?" Kitty wordlessly put her hands up in surrender and Bree adjusted her position haughtily and Marley slumped in her chair, eyes shut.

After another five minutes of Jake being a no show, Kitty risked Marley rare, though from the looks of it, approaching ire.

"What about you, any plans?" Marley managed to open her eyes and straighten up.

"Not…not really. There's not a lot of family I know about, and the holidays sort of snuck up on us, my mom and me, with regionals and AP courses and just the day to day stuff, and so a big Christmas dinner and all that other stuff isn't financially prudent, I mean we could, but something small is easier. Besides," Marley continued before Kitty could respond, "my mom does nothing but cook here, and she's really the one in the family who has a way about-about the kitchen, so, yeah. Not any big plans. Plans, but nothing big." Kitty nodded tersely.

"Right. Sounds good." Biting her lip to suppress the urge to extend what would obviously be a humiliating invitation of pity, Kitty turned back to the front of the choir room, spying out of the corner of her eye Bree quickly doing the same. Feeling uneasy, she quickly repeats what she said earlier, adding a swear for good measure.

"Where the fuck is Puckerman?" Marley lets out a bit of laughter. "What?"

"That rhymed, well almost."

"Yeah, I guess." The awkwardness between them only made Kitty even angrier, as everything led back to the late, soon to be in more ways than one, Jake Puckerman.

"He can take as long as he likes; this place is warm, I don't want to kill most of the people here and because this place is now near empty, every bathroom is free."

"Are you, I don't know, on a colon cleanse or something? Cause you have an unnatural attraction to the toilet as of late."

"They keep shoving food at me, and they never seem to leave the bathroom- it's like some slow torture. If they're giving all of their cooking to me, what could they possibly be doing in there?"

Solemnly, "It's best not to think about it," said Marley. "If you want, you can come over today. I…could use the company, and no one will force you to eat, there's only one bathroom, but two for every one seems like better odds."

"For what? And what am I?" Marley turned slowly to face Kitty, but before Bree could shoot back an answer.

"Would you like to come over as well? You did seem eager to begin your vacation."

"Well, it's nice to be invited," Kitty murmured, processing the irony of being offered a pity invitation. Marley seemed exasperated.

"It's been two years. Three, really, considering everything that we've been through. Do you honestly believe you need an invitation?" Marley raised her eyebrows, expecting an answer, causing Kitty to squirm, while Bree grinned at the scene over Marley's shoulder.

"I suppose not," Kitty responded through gritted teeth, feeling the heat rise in her face. Marley nodded, and turned to Bree, who quickly sat back, demurely observing her nails.

"No offense, it's just that, well…" Marley searched for the words.

"You're friends with me, but you've known Kitty longer. Don't worry Marley; I was a bitch, I know it." Marley looked sad, but Bree shook her head dismissively. "Past tense, remember?"

Kitty remembered; especially Marley nearly getting kicked out of glee club- and the school- for singing the uncensored version of Cee Lo Green's Forget You, which needless to say, was no longer called 'Forget You', paying off Brad to keep at the piano as Mr. Shuester screamed at her to stop and ended up chasing her around the auditorium. Kitty had won the teacher over, along with Marley's unadulterated friendship, by asking if the man had ever wanted to hurt someone so bad, that he threw consequence to the wind, in so many words at least.

"Haven't you ever wanted to say fuck you, or fuck someone up, Mr. Shuester? You have to have; it's human nature," Kitty concluded before the teacher could answer, Mr. Shuester wincing at the use of expletives.

"Maybe I have, Kitty, but the important thing is that I didn't."

"How old were you?"

"What?"

"Were you a teenager, or as old as you are now, not exactly, of course, but were you young or grown?"

"….grown, I guess."

"Okay. So one of the things about being an adult is, is taking crap that no one in the world could expect you to, but you do anyway, because you're mature and there are consequences, right?"

"There are consequences now, Kitty. New Directions could get disbanded for this if Sue finds out." Mr. Shuester began to walk out of the way, but Kitty desperately approached him.

"First, she wouldn't because it will make her look bad and second, consequences, fine, sure, great, all well and good. But not the ultimate ones, not yet. We are asking a lot of Marley, to take in the girl who rubbed it in her face that she could do something, was willing to do something that she couldn't. It's humiliating, it's violating, it- look after everything, after tolerating me and the insults and the eating disorder, Marley let it roll off her back. Maybe this time she couldn't or she-she thought she shouldn't because she was being looked at like a pushover, and if this place gets taken away from her, if you take it away from her, there will be no point, because Marley won't be able to come back from that."

"Well, maybe she should of thought about that before cursing a blue streak. Maybe she'll think about that next time."

"That's my point; there won't be a next time. This is it: she either gets to have her second chance, or she doesn't and that's up to you. You're the teacher, you can't just pass this to someone else. You get to decide, you have to make the choice. And I am asking you as someone who has been given more than their fare share of second chances to, despite the high expectations you have of Marley-cause there is no other way to explain your being this harsh- give hers now, and things will get better. I'll make sure of it, for whatever my word is worth, I swear."

Mr. Shuester had gazed at her for longer than she expected, but she didn't waver. She did blanch after hearing what he said next, though.

"Why do you care so much, Kitty? Not that I don't appreciate the heartfelt plea on your teammate's behalf, but is mercy the only reason?"

"Look, you already saw one explosive episode of vulnerability; do you really want to open another can of worms?" Mr. Shuester had let it slide, but asked the rest of the club to leave, Kitty included, and she couldn't help but feel that she had failed to hide some obvious truth that the teacher was not sure was good or bad. Even sitting in that choir room waiting for Jake to begin his performance, Marley had not told Kitty what was said between her and the teacher, and the only clue Kitty had was that when Marley returned the next day, she apologized, in front of the whole club no less, to the disappointment of many of New Directions, who had enjoyed, given their giggles and voyeurism during, Marley's melodic tirade.

"…I'm not sure what to say here, really. I guess I want to apologize to everyone here, obviously especially Bree. What I did was uncalled for… well okay, it wasn't really uncalled for," Kitty saw Mr. Schuester raise his eyebrows, but remain silent, "but it was wrong, regardless, to take it up with Bree in a public way like that…that's not me, is what I'm saying, and I'm sorry for-for not being me, and not taking the consequences into account so I didn't have to be me for even just a little while. It's cowardly, and selfish, and if I feel angry, I'll take it up with Bree, or Jake, or anyone else in private. So to, recap," Marley had given a little smile, "I'm sorry to Bree, for making an already touchy subject worse just to spite her, and I'm sorry to New Directions for making you guys a part of that." Marley nodded to herself, and Kitty could tell that she was trying to cover all her bases, likely not having much apologizing to do in her life, but rather being the apologized to.

Apparently, Bree felt similarly.

"Hang on; you're not serious, are you?" Marley tensed, and Kitty groaned inwardly. "You're going to make her apologize to me?" Marley blinked in surprise, and Mr. Shuester faltered under Bree's gaze. "That whole Cee Lo Green thing was, maybe, the first time I actually had some respect for this club, and now you're just going to undo the one interesting moment in my entire time here, at this school, the best initiation story this campus is going to get barring some weird pseudo-Sapphic Cheerio hazing ritual that gets blared across the news and more than a few porn sites?"

"Well, I-" Bree interrupted the educator

"Look, I didn't learn my lesson, just 'cause Shirley Temple decides to make it black and hurl, like, a half dozen four letter words my way; I got that before. But that has to be the most fun to possibly be had in a place like this, and now you've gone and spoiled it. Boo." Bree than crossed her arms and pouted.

"Alright then, I'll take that as apology excepted?"

"Boo," Bree repeated, and Kitty remembered rolling her eyes.

"Okay, then on to business-"

"Actually," said Marley, who had yet to return to her seat, "I was wondering if I could sing something. Sort of an amendment to my apology without actually changing anything?" Mr. Shuester nodded.

"What did you have in mind?"

"It's sort of a surprise, and no, not like last time," she said as she delivered the sheet music to Brad and the band, catching the man's unnerved look. "It's a way of saying thank you, glee style. And a welcome, too." Marley nodded to the band.

When the music started and Marley's voice rose with it, Kitty recognized the song instantly, but couldn't remember the name.

It was a bit like last time, however, with Marley spending most of the intro focused on Bree, sans the 'F' word. It was only as Marley launched into the chorus which doubled as the first stanza, that Kitty recalled Jazzman.

"When the Jazzman testifyin', a faithless man believes/ He can sing you into paradise, or bring you to your knees," her eyes on the their teacher for what Kitty figured was half of the line; it wouldn't do to sing a line that intimate to a faculty member who people already thought was too close to his students, especially those in the glee club.

Still, Kitty caught on: Marley focused on each person involved in the current debacle and was either apologizing or thanking them. Kitty shifted some after this revelation- somewhat sorry she had made the plea on Marley's behalf when the other girl was out of range. That wasn't why she did it of course, but appreciation was something Kitty liked, and she did not like to be denied, even by herself. Feeling a bit glum, she broke her attention from the brunette and scanned the row, everyone, even Bree seemed to enjoy the performance, even if Bree still had her hands across her chest in defiance. Turning back to the show, so as not to be rude, she was startled to find blue gray eyes immediately lock on to hers, and do so with something akin to relief shadowing Marley's face.

"It's a gospel kind of feeling, a touch of Georgia slide/ A song of pure revival, in a style that's sanctified."

Kitty swallowed the thickness in her throat which returned with a vengeance as an electric shiver up her spine, so strong it hurt a little.

"Jazzman, take my blues away/Make my pain the same as yours, with every change you play/Jazzman, oh Jazzman," Marley had sung in a tone, to Kitty's recollection, something akin to a personal statement rather than an intimate aside, and the slightly stunned girl realized that this next part was about Marley herself.

When the jazzman's signifyin' and the band is winding low/It's the late night side of morning-the darkness of his soul

He can fill a room with sadness," and despite the appreciation this was given in the melody, Marley hadn't been thrilled, "as he fills his horn with tears/He can cry like a fallen angel," Marley looked up steadfastly, "when the rising time is near."

Jazzman, take my blues away/Make my pain the same as yours with every change you play/Jazzman, oh Jazzman," Marley began to sway as the sax player performed his solo, and the rest of New Directions found there own sitting dance moves to the beat.

"Oh lift me, won't you lift me, with every turn around/Play it sweetly, take me down, oh Jazzman."

That was the week that Mr. Shuester finally found a halfway creative theme-of-the-week, if slightly plagiarized: Inner Jazzman.

Kitty felt a nudge in her ribs. "What?" She said, slightly annoyed. Marley's smiling face didn't falter.

"We're getting started," Marley pointed, and Kitty saw a cloaked figure shamble in, stumbling slightly. Kitty smirked.

"Someone should tell Jake its Christmas, not Halloween."

"Are there even any songs in A Christmas Carol, with the Ghost of Christmas Future at least?" Bree asked. Ryder came in then, in a dark purple undershirt and dark blue vest, with one of the animal snouts over his nose from when they did What does the Fox Say?

"I think I know where this going." Marley commented.

"Downhill, fast?"

"Up a creek, mind numbingly slow?" Kitty frowned at Bree's one up mans-ship.

Below them, Ryder pretended to be grief stricken, and then weep as the cloth clad Jake pointed an accusing finger at him.

"But please, there's got to be a way to change my future," pleaded Ryder, who Kitty noticed wasn't kneeling, so much as adopting a waddle composed of two balled fists and his knees as feet.

The hooded figure merely pointed again. Ryder-Marley whispered in her ear that the character he was supposed to be playing was an analog of Ebenezer Scrooge called Carface Carruthers- grabbed the Grim Reaper reminiscent cloak, causing Jake to stumble a bit, and his "Easy!"

"Sorry, dude!"

"Ah, screw it-its show time." Jake whipped off the cloak, which landed on one of the freshman, to whom, Jake whispered a rushed apology, to reveal a banana peel yellow zoot suit, complete with rimmed hat, produced from his right hand and had been under the cloak.

"Look what you've done; you've been a very, very, bad dog, my son,

Seven years old and seven years of evil packed into each one.

Kitty slumped in her seat, as Jake leaned against the piano, as Jake began the second stanza after some word play on pair of dice and paradise, dreading what was to come, while Marley seemed to enjoy it.

You could be a leader, you could be a saint; you could be a million things, that obviously you ain't!

Kitty shifted uneasily as Jake danced around, joined by Unique and two Cheerios, the latter two with devil horns and pitchforks, while the first was clad in an angelic robe, having entered in on their cue.

But you've got time, High time, to clean up your act!

"As if it's that easy," Kitty muttered under her breath.

If you don't then you're doomed and that's a fact!

Is this a Christmas Carol, or a preacher's fire and brimstone sermon? Kitty asked mentally.

Get it right, then you'll see, the kind of dog you were born to be!

"So not being a dick is the key to entering heaven? There's a great moral lesson," Kitty grumbled, making sure Marley didn't hear her, not wanting to spoil the other girl's fun.

"When the singing's done, when the show is through, you'll still have eternity to spend with you- know-who" The Cheerio-demons-replete with spiked tails attached to their backsides-grinned predatorily, one on either side of Ryder, or rather Carface, and aimed the red farm tools at him, nearly poking him in the eye, and Kitty wasn't sure that was part of the act, given the sheepish looks on their faces. They recovered quickly however, and approached him with a pair of devil horns of his own, while Jake slid up behind him.

"I think it's time, high time, you clean up your act.

Do it right, you'll be set, you'll be free; then you'll see the type of dog you-were-meant-to-be. All four of them joined in on the line.

"It's time-high time-you clean up your…" The Cheerios exited, stage left, and Unique returned to her seat, until only Jake was singing. Kitty waited, slightly anxious. Ryder/Carface blinked and walked a bit forward where Jake, also known as 'Charlie', also known as the Ghost of Christmas Future, Marley had explained, grinned. The two Cheerios reappeared in the doorway.

"Clean up your act!" All four chorused rather loudly causing both Kitty and Ryder to wince, as the band played a final indignant note. The target of the song to his credit managed to pull a white sheet and night cap over his head, as though having been asleep, before Mr. Shuester triggered a wave of applause.

"That was great guys, an excellent opener for our last class before the holidays."

"It's nearly five, how is that an opener?" Kitty questioned irately. Instead of the usual sigh when his students showed resistance to his plans, Mr. Shuester grinned, slightly lopsidedly.

"It's five o'clock somewhere, right?" Kitty frowned.

"Yes, here." Mr. Shuester widened his eyes comically.

"It is? Well, you know what they say, Christmas miracles, right?" The glee director quickly made his way back over to the piano grabbing a mug swiftly but wildly, before Coach Beist, Coach Washington, Counselor Pillsbury-Shuester, or Brad-I should have used faculty instead of teacher, Kitty thought- could stop him. After taking a swig of whatever was in the cup- and Kitty had her suspicions- he shook his finger patronizingly at them.

"Too slow," he mocked as he took a drink, and then wiped what looked like a milk moustache off his lip. Kitty threw up her hands in annoyance.

"He's drunk on eggnog, isn't he?" Kitty turned her attention to the four assembled at the opposite end of the room, who stared at their piano keys, chewed their lip compulsively, scratched the back of their neck and coughed. For his part, the inebriated Mr. Shuester nodded at her.

"You're smart, which is good, because we really need high GPA or we're gonna lose our funding." Kitty looked mortified, and the rest of New Directions seemed uncomfortable.

"How did this happen?!"

"We may have," Coach Beiste began hesitantly, "miscalculated both how long this practice would last, and how Ol' Willie here could hold his liquor. We figured we would end early, do a little celebrating, again early, but then Jake ran into some technical difficulties, and because Will was so insistent on not drinking, we," a collective glare from the other faculty members besides Mr. Shuester, who chuckled to himself about something inaudible, made her change her choice of pronoun, "I may have made him get an early start, before we realized how long this would take. So, he's slightly…"

"Shit-faced?" Offered Bree.

"While I don't approve of that language, Emma Pillsbury-Shuester spoke up then, "yes."

"So why don't we leave? Who knows if Ms. Sylvester is listening in, and tries to use this to get him fired?" Emma sighed.

"We would, but then he'll be very disappointed in the morning, and that's not a lot of fun with a hangover to boot. Obviously that's not your fault, but when we tried to drive him home and then cancel the practice, he started shouting 'I wanna see the kids sing', 'I wanna see the kids sing'- it really was cute, you know, if you block out the fact a drunk man is forcing minors to entertain him or else he won't let them enjoy Christmas with their families."

"'Cute', sure, if you mean Dickensian."

"I said if you block out," Emma retorted.

"Okay, okay," Bree walked down the aisle to where Mr. Shuester slumped against a wall casually, and grinned down at her.

"Hey Bree."

"Sup? Look, here what we do. First, we have eleven performances left, right? So given that a song takes about three minutes, that's just over a half hour, give or take. Next, were is the one you summon by saying her name three times in a darkened room?"

"If you mean Sylvester, last I saw, she and Figgins were fighting for superiority of the principal's suite with some weird ass challenges. When I left, they just kept slapping each other to see who would fall down first or some bull like that."

"So she's preoccupied," Bree asked Coach Roz Washington, who nodded, adding "she's something all right." Bree extended her hand. "Okay now, I need coffee, anything with caffeine in it, but nothing else; no thymine, no uppers, no Adderall." One of the freshmen scrunched up her face.

"Who do you think we are, a bunch of pill poppers?"

"A better question; who do you think you are, Ms. Bossy Pants?" Kitty interjected.

"An even better question: Ms. Bossy Pants? What are you, a character on Arthur all of a sudden?" Kitty smirked at Bree's retort.

"Fine-who made you head bitch in this pet store?"

"Kitty," Coach Shannon Beiste warned, "Language."

"What? It was a reference to the All Dogs Go To Heaven performance we just watched," Kitty justified, Marley having told her the name as she sat grumbling just moments before.

"My experience. Every year my Uncle comes down for Christmas, has a little too much rum, or schnapps, or brandy or whatever. So, we have to sober him up. When has anyone in your family ever gotten anything worse than a case of the vapors? Bree laughed, speaking in a false southern accent, but obviously meant to be a white southern accent.

"Your friends are weird," the little girl interrupted. "Did she just get all proud that her uncle gets too drunk to do anything?"

"Millie, what did I say about letting me tell the story?"

"Sorry."

"Don't worry about it. And yes, she did, and it was weird."

"When was the last time your family got drunk without mixing in grape drink mix?"

If a nine year old could look bemused, Millie's face would be beside the definition

"I didn't say I was proud of what I'd said," her grandmother defended.

"Oh, hell no, you did not just say that!" Emma was suddenly between them, shoving a mug of something hot and mocha colored, presumably the coffee Bree had requested.

"Here, just handle this." Bree took the mug, and, shooting a last dirty look at Kitty, walked over to the drunk and slightly perturbed teacher. "Give me the cup, Mr. Shuester," she asked softly.

"No, no, I'm good, Bree. And you shouldn't fight like that…it's not good."

"I know, and Kitty knows, too, doesn't she?" Bree gritted her teeth, and looked back.

"She does- I mean I do." A quick glance at Marley, and her disapproving frown made her heart sink.

"Besides, Mr. Shue, I've taken your cup." The man looked positively bewildered, having been more focused on the fight.

"How…?"

"Sorry, here, take it back, let me just get that off your hands, thank you," she quickly extracted the other mug from his hands and handed to Emma who left to dispose of it. Or drink it herself, Kitty thought, but then realized the woman probably still had enough of a germaphobic streak to dissuade the temptation even after the stressful events.

"Drink up, Mr. Shue," Bree cooed. The man took a sip, and gave a strange look, but after Bree had raised her eyebrows as though she couldn't imagine what the problem could be, Mr. Shuester continued to drink.

"Keep him drinking," Bree whispered to Kitty.

"Where are you going?" Kitty shout whispered back. Bree rolled her eyes, as if it were obvious.

"It's my set." Actually, it was rather obvious, but Kitty would never admit that. Instead she chose to nit pick something else.

"You're only performing one song; it's not a set! And even if you weren't this is glee club, not iHeart Radio."

"Whatever." With that, she began to pull off her leg warmers, strut over to the piano in her summertime Cheerio uniform, and hoisted herself onto the piano, handing a bill over to Brad before he could object, who then placed the note in his wallet and sat silent.

"Okay. It's been nearly a year with some of you guys, and nearly a year in this club, and I think I've improved if only a bit, attitude wise. So this is my Christmas, holiday whatever song as well as my New Years resolution, which is to only use this banging body of mine," she gestured to her form, and Kitty sneered as the rest of New Directions either scoffed or laughed, feeling jealousy rise in her gut when Marley did the latter, "for good, and not evil. Take it away."

"Santa baby, I've been an aw-ful good girl…"

Kitty timed Bree's performance, finding that it came to three minutes and thirty seconds, due to all her embellishments and, in Kitty's opinion, practically, or actually succeeding in some cases, dry humping the piano, even though Bree had used 'about' to indicate that the three minute time limit (which Kitty knew in her heart was never stated as such) was not exact.

"That poor piano," Kitty murmured as she placed the third cup of coffee in a now vastly more sober Mr. Shuester's hands, though still fairly tipsy.

"Who's next?" Bree asked as she hopped down from the instrument, and smoothed her pleats down. A freshman boy, in a festive three piece suit raised his hand nervously.

He stood when Bree motioned him over, and took his place, staring out at the group, and took a shuddering breath.

"Oh, boy," Kitty murmured.

"M-my name is C-c-colt. I-I have a fear of public speaking, and sing-ing, I g-guess," he said quickly. "W-which is a p-problem w-when you have c-c-company over for the h-h-holidays. I get a s-stutter, but I can make it go away w-when I sing-and I-I'm gonna show you.'

"Look what you did; now everyone thinks they have to make a speech."

"Marley seemed to like it," and Kitty saw red, before, "and Mr. Shuester seems really happy he could help these kids. The faster he sobers up, the faster we might be able to cut this short. And that's what you want, right? To get out of here?"

Kitty stayed silent.

Colt glanced at Brad.

"I d-don't have any money."

"Are you going to wax my piano with your butt, like she did?" Bree raised an eyebrow and Kitty smirked.

"No." Brad held up his hand.

"We're good."

As it turned out, Colt's way of dealing with stage fright was to put on a show- literally.

"Is he doing an impersonation of Michael Blube?"

"I think so." Colt hat gotten so in to it, he managed to twirl one of the freshman girls in a little dance move during his song, Jingle Bell Rock.

When he finished everyone clapped, even Mr. Shuester although he spilled some of his coffee doing so. Massaging his temples the teacher managed to sit up and address the boy.

"That was great, Colt, but remember, you can't always do impersonations, however good they may be." Colt nodded, still high on his performance.

"Yes, sir."

Kitty took it as a good sign that the teacher was able to talk without making some word-play joke, and seemed to be emerging into a hangover, or at least the beginnings of a headache and hopefully, lucidity.

Three more freshmen, all of them girls, performed, Silent Night, because it's a 'classic' and covered 'all the bases' for a great performance; What A Wonderful World, because that was how she felt when the town was blanketed in snow-Kitty scowled at that remark-and the last of the girls at the time performed It's so Important (To Make Someone Happy) and was Kitty's favorite of the trio, not the least because of the smile on Marley's face and the urge Kitty felt to glance at her during the line, Make just one person happy.

Up next was Unique-who was rarely in Wade's 'persona' as she called it-decided to buck tradition, once again, with Elton John's Your Song, forgoing the speech, to Kitty's delight. Mr. Shuester seemed to brighten on hearing the performance.

When she finished, he spoke up.

"Unique, the song was great, but I'm not sure what it has to do with Christmas. She paused for just a moment, something Kitty recognized as a ploy to build tension.

"It's about trying to find the perfect gift for someone; and then finding out that perfect something is someone, and that certain someone is you, which I think both finds the good in, and undermines the bad of, commercialism during this season, which seems very Christmas to me." It dawned on Kitty that Unique kept glancing at her during her explanation, and she wondered if that was conscious or some sort of meaningful serendipity, not believing in fate, but in fortune.

"That's very…perceptive." Out of the corner of her eye, Kitty saw the man wince.

Afterwards, Unique waved her over, during another freshman's version of Rudolph, the Red nosed Reindeer, and Kitty felt a growl when Bree walked over as well.

"Actually, I was planning on singing This Little Light Of Mine, but if anything is going to sober his ass up, it's the queen of the eighties. Besides, we wouldn't want this one", she said gesturing to Kitty, "to whip out her claws when I sing a song about my light this close to baby J's birthday." In that sentence, Kitty's growl died on her tongue and then rebounded.

"What about Freddie Mercury? You know, of the band Queen?"

"Honey, it was the eighties-everybody was a queen." Kitty rolled her eyes at Bree's superfluous comment at what was-Kitty glanced at her phone-nearly six on a winter's night, meaning the outside was already pitch black.

"Besides Journey, Elton John is one of his favorites. I think Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word is his absolute favorite, but of course, you wouldn't know that, would you, 'Girl with the Eyebrow Tattoo'?"

"Okay, I get it. My eyebrows are actually very bushy, and it takes a lot of plucking to keep them under control, and sometimes it's easier to draw them on with a pencil. It's not something I can control, unlike, say, your bitchy attitude, which unless can be attributed to a never ending period, is."

"I'm in a classroom, at night, with a person I hate, before Christmas Eve. Trust me; I'm exhibiting all the control I can muster. Understand?" Something twisted on Bree's face, even as none of her features moved.

"Loud and clear," The girl jerked her hand behind her. "You're up." Kitty blinked, and turned to Unique, and in the process seeing a new freshman finishing up only to be met with a glare.

"What?"

"Seriously? I get jumping on the 'I hate Bree bandwagon', but you're driving the damn thing. Watch out for that cliff," Unique said in a flittering tone. Kitty took her place, and met the stares of a septuplet of rapt freshmen, still new to the experience, the faintly curious gazes of Ryder and Jake; their costumes unbuttoned midway, the appraising watch of Unique, and the suspicious eyeing Marley gave her joined by the watery glumness of Bree. Kitty managed to bite back the instinct to call Bree out for making her uncomfortable, and instead gave into the overwhelming impression that she too, was to give a speech.

"Usually, I just sing a hymnal or gospel piece, but, um," Kitty felt her voice taper off as Bree shut her eyes and two streaks trailed down her face, reflecting the florescent light on her cheeks, Marley being the only one close enough to see Bree cry, and offering a comforting hand, "since I'm going caroling later this week, I think," Kitty averted her eyes, so as not to inadvertently lead people's eyes up to the final riser and Bree quietly sobbing into Marley's shoulder, while she stroked her back, "maybe something non-traditional, because apparently you all find that sort of thing less 'boring'," Kitty worked hard on the mock offense. By this time, Marley had confirmed her suspicions and narrowed her eyes, turning the bottom part of her abdomen to lead, and the rest of her body to liquid.

"Um, start it up, then." While the rest of New Directions watched the odd sight before them, Marley stared her down as she launched into Stand by Me.

"If the sky we look upon, should tumble and fall/If the mountains would crumble to the sea.

I won't cry, Kitty gritted her teeth against the cringe that followed that choice of words, "oh, no, I won't, shed a tear," Kitty was starting to hate herself for choosing this song, "No, I won't shed a tear. Just as long as you stand, stand by me, stand by me."

Marley patted Bree's back, and whispered something in her ear, causing the girl to straighten some in her chair, trying to compose herself. Kitty watched wide eyed as Marley slowly made hr way down the aisle, mostly ignored except for an initial glance.

"And Darling, darling, stand by me, oh, stand by me." Marley made it to the final riser, and Kitty really wished the song would hurry up and end.

"Stand now, stand by me, stand by me/Whenever you're in trouble, won't you stand by me, oh, stand by me." Kitty caught a few eyebrows raise as Marley stood a few inches from her, hands on her hips and stared at her, even as Kitty faced the back.

"Stand by me, oh, standby me," Kitty repeated, earning confused looks as the music began to wane, and she gestured for them to keep it up.

"Stop singing, Kitty," Marley said evenly.

"There's still a bit of song left."

"No, there isn't."

"Yes, there's a whole outro process here, for the song to work."

"I want to talk to you."

"We are."

"In private."

"Sorry, I've got to finish this…"

"The music has stopped."

"Stand by…me." Stand by… oh, forget it," Kitty slumped forward as she took in the alarmed looks on the rest of the glee club. Kitty turned to look at Marley, who arched her eyebrows expectantly. "Somewhere private, you said?"

Kitty shoved open the second floor girls bathroom door that Marley had walked her to, staying behind, and staring sternly at her whenever she dared to look back.

"Look, your number is coming up, and then we can leave. Why don't we discuss this after winter break, rather than late at night, in a very…unfortunate place?" bargained Kitty. Marley stared silently before she spoke.

"My therapist says I have trouble expressing anger adequately," Marley stated. Kitty glanced around confusedly.

"That's both random and ominous. Working on our Christopher Walken impersonations, there, Marley?"

"She says that I tend to bottle up my feelings until inopportune instances and then release them all at once."

"Seriously, bravo, Marley." Kitty clapped her hands in mock applause.

"So, my homework, I guess, is to tell people when they upset me." Marley paused. "You're upsetting me, Kitty."

"Now tell me how upsetting you is bad for my health; really sell it, Marls."

"We have three minutes-had three minutes. Now we're down to two. So, in one minute and fifty seconds, I'm going to ask you a question, you're going to answer, honestly: Why did you tell Bree that you hate her? Go."

"And if I don't?"

"No threats. I simply want an answer in that amount of time."

"Or else?"

"Or else, I don't get an answer to a simple question, and you tell me a lot more than you want to."

"I thought you said 'no threats'?"

"It's not; just a simple fact."

"I can just leave, you know."

"You can either give me an answer, or not. You have thirty seconds left, by the way."

"Can't I just say, I have my reasons?"

"Twenty seconds."

"Screw you! There's an answer."

"Fifteen." Kitty felt tears like needles in the back of her eyes.

"I, it's personal, please…"

"I wouldn't tell anyone, and you know that. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. On-"

"Why are you trying to replace me? There, are you happy now?" The first part was blurted out, the second a reminder that Kitty wasn't sure if that was the answer Marley was looking for. "Time's up. Did I pass?"

"Why would you think I'm trying to… replace you? You're jealous of Bree? Is that it?"

"Time's up. We have to get back, or you won't be able to help the freshy with her song." Marley grimaced, and Kitty smirked. Two can play at this game, she thought.

The two raced back to class where the girl in question waited nervously, brightening when she saw Marley approach, and apologize. A quick sweep of the room told Kitty that Bree was not as big of a snitch as she had thought: besides a few curious glances, no one bore the accusing look Marley had, and Bree herself had dried her eyes and stared at the ground, not any more suspicious than any of the other waning spirits of the glee club.

Emma, however, approached her.

"Is everything alright, Kitty? Marley seemed…off," said the counselor offhandedly. Kitty glanced at the slumped Mr. Shuester, and cocked her head.

"No more than anyone else around here."

"How about Bree?"

"Why would I know anything about that?" Kitty asked, only slightly fast, and only slightly wincing at having affirmed the other Cheerio was sad.

"Because you're her friend." Kitty merely blinked in response to the avalanche of guilt that slid through her.

"Not really, more of a degree of separation- I know Marley, Marley knows Bree, Bree possibly knows Kevin Bacon."

"I think she looks up to you."

"I'm four foot, nine and a…bitch. No one, except maybe Santa's elves have ever, 'looked up to me'."

"Maybe not exactly, look up to you. But she wants what you have."

"So who's stopping her?"

"I was hoping you would know." Kitty shrugged.

"I couldn't say." The guilt let up a trickle as Kitty realized that Bree probably wouldn't want her to. Emma nodded.

"Well if you need to talk, when we get back, my door is always open." Kitty attributed the woman's geniality not to inside knowledge, but likely the upcoming vacation; Mr. Shuester, in one of their earlier practices, had mentioned, in a discussion of their plans for the break, that he and his wife were planning an anniversary, "at an undisclosed resort," obviously remembering not to share too much with his students.

Too little, too late, Kitty had thought with a snicker.

So, it wasn't a surprise when Emma looked as happy as Kitty felt that Marley was beginning her song, after a mashup of Greenday's Holiday, minus the political elements, which Marley had provided back up for, and This Christmas by, if Kitty was not mistaken, Donny Hathaway, with the freshman reciprocating the musical aid.

"Like most of you, I wanted to sing something original, or personal. I decided that, to do either, I needed to do both. At first I was going to do a piece that I wrote, but everything just came out sounding like Twelve Days of Christmas, for some reason." Kitty smiled at this. "Then I decided to do a mashup, like Chloe, here," 'Chloe' grinned at the mention of her name, "but couldn't find two that went together as well as hers."

"After asking everyone what song they were doing, except for Jake, who wouldn't give it up." Apparently Bree was psychologically able enough to let out a slight, but obviously timely, cough at Marley's choice of wording. "So I picked a song I didn't think anyone else here would perform, and it sort of covers the one part of the holiday season I think you all missed. I hope you enjoy it." Marley waved the band off; apparently she was performing a cappella.

"When I was a just a little girl, I asked my mother, what would I be?

Would I be pretty? Would I be rich? And here's what she said to me:

Que sera, sera. "Whatever will be, will be."

The future's not ours to see; Que sera, sera.

What will be, will be.

Chloe had joined in on the harmony on the last line, and Kitty found her voice to be more childlike; the girl could have been as young as thirteen, and compared to Marley's voice, it sounded like a daughter echoing her older sister, if not her mother.

"When I was young, I fell in love,

I asked my sweetheart, what lies ahead?

Will we have rainbows, day after day?

Here's what my sweetheart said:

Kitty found herself answering, as did a few of the other, older students, Bree included, while Chloe provided backup. For once, Kitty was glad that they did, Bree included.

"Que sera, sera. 'Whatever will be, will be'

The future's not ours to see; Que sera, sera.

What will be, will be."

Marley took up the song on her own again,

"Now I have children of my own; they ask their mother," and at this point Chloe responded,

"What will I be?" Then Colt, in his best 'Little Master of the Manor' voice he could muster added,

"Will I be handsome?" And then Lionel intoned, rather cheekily,

"Will I be rich?" Marley smiled at their input, and Kitty, voracious user of the wicked smirk, could think of only one adjective to describe the expression: gentle.

"And I tell them tenderly," and everybody joined in,

"Que sera, sera. 'Whatever will be, will be.'

The future's not ours to see; Que sera, sera.

What will be, will be."

"Merry Christmas, everybody, and Happy New Year," Marley wished them.

Suddenly, the choir room door was slammed open, and Sue Sylvester and Mr. Figgins walked in. Or rather, Sylvester strode in, while Figgins followed her irately.

"What exactly is going on here?" the woman demanded. Mr. Shuester rose from his seat, rubbing his temple, his encroaching hangover obviously made worse by Sylvester's barrage.

"Just the last glee practice of this year, Sue." The woman puckered her face in mock incredulirty.

"At seven thirty in the night, in a snowstorm, the night before Christmas Eve, singing libertine songs of care free mayhem?" The curly haired man paused.

"Sounds about right? Of course sane people would simply call it practice, especially if that person had no problem running children ragged through repeated laps around the field at any ungodly hour of the night or day!" He winced at his shout, and Figgins frowned.

"My God, William, you look like you may have come down with something." Sylvester scoffed.

"Oh, he's come down from something: his high!" Mr. Shuester winced. "What's the matter, William? Does my yelling really loud upset your, headache ridden, eye drooping, soon to be vomiting curly head of sweaty hair hangover!" Her voice grew with every adjective and active description of withdrawal. "Let me smell your breath, then."

"Your presence upsets me. Fine." He breathed heavily upon her, causing her to grimace, and the two coaches, piano player and guidance counselor as well as wife to stiffen.

"Coffee, Sue. Want some?"

"No. It's as stale as anything around here." The faculty besides the three relaxed.

"And what are you doing here this late, if I may ask you far more politely than you asked us, I might add," Roz glared more than she spoke, if that was possible.

"No you may not, if I heard that twisted sentence right. We are on important matters discerning the leadership of this school, and it is not for prying eyes."

"How is slapping each other like a pair of monkeys fighting over a French fry 'discerning leadership', or whatever the hell mumbo jumbo you just said? What kind of example does that set for all these tow headed little minds, riddle me that you blonde dinosaur!"

"At least my hair color is a shade found in nature."

"Yeah, prehistoric Jurassic Park nature, only this time every expense was spared in that straw stack on your head!"

"Regardless of your incredibly offensive and barely literate insults, I have every right to be here."

"Oh, yeah? Well how is the department of Education going to feel when I send video of said two monkeys slapping each other like they're fighting over said French fry going to look to them?"

"They were no children around to see. It's nearly evening just before Christmas break!"

"Tell me one time any of those old fogies ever had even one lick of sense, huh?" Sylvester seethed.

"I'm going to tell you the same thing I told congress when I petitioned them to release Pope Francis's Sunday school records: You may have won this round, Washington, but Sue Sylvester never quits." Kitty sighed audibly, and a few heads turned in her direction.

"Well this has been… festive, in a Cabin in the Woods kind of way, but I've got enough good cheer in me, that I'm pretty sure I'll be backed up for the new year if I don't leave right now. Happy holidays, enjoy the snow, maybe one of you will see mommy kissing Santa Clause; don't be alarmed, it's probably just your dad…probably." Kitty headed for the door.

"Hold it right there Mary Lou Sou two." Kitty turned.

"We can't let you leave now."

"Why?" asked Mr. Shuester and Kitty simultaneously and suspiciously.

"The school would be liable if anything happened to you," Sylvester said simply, without malice or any glint in her eye. "Either as employees or students we have a duty to maintain safety above all costs. Figgins nodded.

"I'm afraid she's right. The school can not afford a lawsuit."

"I wave my right to an attourney and legal action. There you all heard it. I said I won't sue and now I can't."

"Your parents still can," Figgins answered. Kitty let her head fall against the door. "It is far too hazardous to travel, either by car or foot."

"Okay, I am trying to be calm, and suppress some very off color comments regarding the words 'flying' and 'carpet' but you are making it very difficult to be civil."

"How I wish that I had a flying carpet, Ms. Wilde, I would not hesitate to use it. I understand," he glanced at Sylvester, "trust me, I do, your enthusiasm to be free of this institution and enjoying the company of family and non improvised friends. But if you attempt to face the elements, I fear you will be lost to them and regardless of the consequence I can not in good faith allow you to indulge your teenage recklessness." Marley spoke up as Kitty hit her head against the door, pompom adorned cap bouncing to and fro.

"I agree with Ms. Sylvester and Mr. Figgins."

"Now hold on there little miss…did you say you agree?"

"She did, Sue."

"Carry on then."

"Except that we are not improvised friends. We're not all completely in each other's god graces yet, but this could be a really good chance to get to know each other better. Look, we can call up Breadstix get a couple of Pizzas, and make a night of it." Lionel spoke up.

"If it's too dangerous for us to travel, how is pizza going to get here?"

"My mom works shifts there sometime. They let their workers take anything, any order and the employees practically live on tips. So, I say we pool our money for tips, write this off as a faculty development training day or something," Marley looked to Figgins for approval, and he shrugged close enough to affirmative, "and make this the best Christmas Eve Eve ever!"

There was a chorus of agreement, while Kitty came very close to taking the name's lord in vain.

Millie gasped. Grandma Wilde nodded.

"You're about to see why."

Instead she took a deep breath and exhaled through her nose, trying to calm herself.

"Still not good enough for you?" said a voice in back of her. "Still whining about Christmas Eve, seriously?! No one cares about Christmas Eve, which, I might add, you'll get to spend however you like, because the storm will have let up by tomorrow morning," Bree argued. "But even if it didn't, who cares?! No one cares about Christmas Eve! Not even Santa Claus, if you shoved a red hot candy cane up his jolly old ass!"

"Ah," said Lionel to Colt, "Every time someone mentions sodomizing Santa, an angel gets their wings. That's how the line went, right?" The bespectacled boy stifled a snicker in response.

"Up his butt? asked Millie, shocked.

"Yes." A pause. "That's PG-the word, 'butt', right?"

Millie shrugged.

"Great. Trapped in the school with Bree," said Kitty sarcastically. She pulled out a five dollar bill. "Who wants in? Five bucks says Bree flips first and tries to eat someone. She's a cheerleader remember, I'll honor any interpretation of that condition you want. Any takers?" Kitty shoved her note at the closest people possible, and the freshmen backed up warily. Brad cocked his head in interest, while Emma shot him a look of disbelief.

"Kitty-" Mr. Shuester began exasperated while Sylvester took in the show.

"Gambling is expressly prohibited on school grounds, Ms. Wilde," Figgins replied to the least of the implications Kitty had expressed.

"Fine then. She should put that money on herself- wouldn't be a gamble then." Kitty was confused.

"What are you babbling about?" Sylvester queried. Bree paused, but then smirked.

"It doesn't break the rules if it's a sure thing-then; it's more of an investment: getting in on the ground floor of something inevitable, no pun intended." Kitty swung around, reaching the first riser, and let her book bag fall heavily to the floor, a few people, mostly the freshmen staring at it in surprise.

"I'm so happy it's only the twenty third of December; I can slap you silly and not feel bad about it."

"Bring it, Alvin." The two girls nearly met in the middle, but Marley managed to step in between.

"No, stop it you guys, come on…" It seemed Marley wasn't in the mod to pry the two off each other.

"Maybe Santa will bring you some new magic markers, all black, so you can draw some real eyebrows, or a Mr. Potato head so you can borrow his!"

"Maybe he'll bring you a hoo-la hoop," Bree said, using a squeaky voice.

"Just stop it, Bree, Kitty!" The blonde and the brunette glared at each. Marley sighed. "Can we just worry about the food and finding a place for everyone to sleep?"

"Oh, let them fight, Ghandi. What's the worst that could happen? Her eyebrows aren't real making it likely that the rest of hair is not as well, and if the other one loses any of the nuts she collected for winter, I'm sure one of Shuester's insipid glee club members would find a suitable replacement, or as I suspect, be a suitable replacement for her puffy, puffy cheeks."

Bree and Kitty turned away from each other as Marley stared at the floor, exhausted. After a few moments, Ryder spoke.

"So, who wants pepperoni?"

Twenty pizzas later, and two hundred and fifty dollars less from the school's budget for "teamwork building exercises outside the classroom environment" the glee club, two coaches, two co-principals, one piano player and Pillsbury-Shuester were hold up in the library, as Kitty resisted the urge to perform yet another version of the numerically ordered holiday jingle, mostly because she doubted that would improve Marley's humor.

Instead the three were perusing the stacks; sleeping bags were out, but none of them felt like resting. Each of the students had called their parents, and despite some of the freshman's fearful ones, all agreed that remaining in the school until the storm had passed was the best idea. Even Kitty had been unable to convince hers to give permission, with Marley stepping beside her and taking the phone from her, "and I'll make sure she stays out of trouble, Mrs. Wilde, Mr. Wilde."

Kitty groaned, but was proud of the fact that they thought Marley was a good influence on her, and by proxy, wanted to please them by getting back in good with the soft spoken girl, as well as for other reasons, that she did not want to think-or talk-about.

Apparently, though, Marley did.

"What was that all about back there?" Marley spoke over the din of Put Your Records On being played from a phone hooked to a speaker by the freshmen and the chatter of the still animated upperclassmen and faculty, including the sound of skin hitting skin sharply and a hushed hiss of "Curse you, Sue Sylvester," or "Bite me, Ali Baba." The three were sitting Indian style in a circle-or rather a triangle, as the three alone were separated from the main group in an old and musty wing, barely alit with yellowed glass encased fluorescents.

Breathing in the scent of slowly decaying paperbacks, Kitty took in the surrealist context of her current situation; the dim lights, soft carpet, almost womblike cloister of the book shelves- dark and quiet and moderated by a benevolent entity; she felt like Haley Joel Osmet at the end of A.I.: Artificial Intelligence, or Sixth Sense, or Pay It Forward.

"Kitty?"

"You ever notice how every movie with Haley Joel Osmet as a child ends dark as anything, but in that really serene sense?"

"That has nothing to do with anything."

"Doesn't it? The lights twinkle and the snow makes everything quiet-not in the movies, I mean-but at this time of year."

"Are you high?" Bree asked, a little too loud.

"No, and control your volume much? You said it yourself, Marls, we're here to get to know each other better." Kitty pulled out her hair tie, letting her cascade over her shoulders, and laid down, her forearm beneath her head to protect it from the worst of the dust bunnies.

"We're here because of the snowstorm, Kitty." Kitty smiled.

"Don't tell me you've lost your Christmas spirit before the day has even arrived? Because I will call Brittany, and she will drill the true sense of the magic of the season into you." Bree scoffed.

"With what, a strap on?"

"What's a strap-on?" Grandma Wilde blanched.

"It, um, it's like a Christmas tree ornament that you use a… strap to hold it onto you and it reminds people, about…Christmas."

"How does that help your Christmas spirit?"

"Haven't you heard that the holiday spirit is infectious?"

"Oh, right."

"Yeah. Right."

"Just a minute ago, you were fighting like hell to get out of here." Kitty stared up at the ceiling, allowing her eyes to blur the white blank spot, blink and then refocus. After a moment of silence Bree appeared in her line of sight, and then, from the bottom of her field of vision, Marley hovered over her, exchanging a glance with Bree, slightly worried, slightly suspicious.

In that secure area, in the privacy innocuous half darkness can only provide, different yet familiar with Marley above her, Kitty let go of a breath that she didn't realize she had been holding.

Marley had been saying something about dealing with issues, and not forcing them down, when Kitty stopped her, grabbing slightly blindly for her arm.

"Hang on. Bree, here." Kitty handed her the five dollar bill she had tried to make a bet with. "I owe you five dollars. Are we good?"

"Kitty, you can't just bribe people, and especially not with five dollars. Come on Bree, give it back." Instead, Bree stared at it for a minute, looked between Kitty, who looked as relaxed as anything, at least, that's how she felt, and Marley, who was confused, at least, that's how she looked, and pocketed the note.

"It's like, a Cheerio thing, you give money to people you hurt, so they can buy, like, aspirin. For the pain."

"Yeah, Marls it's a tradition," Kitty followed in the path Bree had given her. She shut her eyes before Marley could catch her staring, and turned her head to the side, indifferent, or at least hoped she looked that way.

Something caught her eye.

Kitty pulled out a tome from the shelf. Managing to open it with one hand, Kitty held the book over her face, and frowned. "Can you read this?" Kitty handed the book to Bree, who took it absently, slightly dazed. She looked down at the text.

"The hell is this?" Marley looked at the volume.

"Is this a different language?" Kitty, although she felt perfectly content where she lie, decided that gazing into Marley's navel was not the most productive use of her time, and twisted around to see.

"Hm, pictures too. Let's take a look at another." Marley seemed uncomfortable.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Bree shrugged.

"Why not?"

"We're supposed to be sleeping here, not getting reading materials."

"And we're not supposed play music either, but extenuating circumstances, right?" Kitty pulled out a second tome, flipped through the old book and handed it to Bree, repeating the process until there was a pile before them, and the shelf nearly empty. Kitty flipped, Bree stared, and then Marley screamed.

It was more of a yelp, actually, but to be pulled out of her rhythm like that, and to hear it come from her of all people, Kitty was sufficiently startled.

"What's going on?" Bree stared in the opposite direction, before turning back to Kitty.

"Something she saw in this book," she lifted it to Kitty's eye level, "and she takes off screaming. What the hell?"

"Give it."

"What was in the book?" Grandma Wilde swallowed.

"What has this story been about since the beginning?"

"The Krampus?" Millie asked reverently.

Her grandmother simply nodded.

"What is it?" Kitty stared at the picture in the book for a while.

"Some kind of monster, I think." A shadow appearing before them caused the two girls to look up.

"Um, Marley just rushed out of here, and looked pretty upset. What's up?" Jake asked cautiously, obviously trying hard not to jump to any conclusions even as he eyed the books lying about them.

"Where is she?" Ryder behind him answered.

"She's kind of freaking out in the hall." Kitty scrambled to her feet; she figured she was probably reading too much into it, but as far as Marley could have gone, it made Kitty a little lightheaded to think that she might be waiting fro her-and yes, she realized reluctantly, Bree-to come and help her.

"Kitty…"

"Jake, Ryder, stay with the freshmen." While Jake's scrutiny lessened in the face of Kitty's concern, Ryder's confusion grew.

"Why; it's not like they'll wander off?"

"Because, I need to talk to Shuester, and I don't need him distracted, and if a good friend asks you to do something, you do it!" Jake nodded.

"We've got this-go talk to her." Kitty didn't need to be told twice. Under the alarmed and curious stares of the underclassmen, Kitty, with Bree in tow, breeched the hallway.

Marley paced, phone to her ear, talking to someone-Kitty guessed it was her mom-and seemed near tears. Kitty tried to go to her, but Bree held her back and shook her head.

"…But why didn't you tell me? I get that, but, I needed to know! That he was here is a big deal, and I don't know, I'm not sure that I can stay at McKinley..."

Kitty tried to pull away then, but Bree used her full weight to restrain her so hard did Kity try to rush over.

"Maybe, we can talk when I get home? Okay. Okay. In the morning. I'll try. You try to get some sleep too. I-I'm sorry for yelling. Yes, of course I know. Love you too. Bye." Marley hung up. After a moment of Kitty and Bree standing still, Kitty tugged and the other girl relinquished her grip.

"Marley." The girl didn't look up, and Kitty was slightly happy for this, as she had nothing to offer in terms of comfort. "Maybe, we ask Shuester, or Sylvester. They could know something."

"I don't think so. I've got to talk to my mom, and not over a phone."

"What happened?" Bree asked gently.

"I've seen…that before. I thought it was just a dream, and my mom, she never told me."

"How?"

"Because my mom doesn't like to talk about her past and I don't ask. But this isn't about something that happened to her. It's about what I saw and I remember, and she said she'd answer my questions." Marley began to cry. "But I don't think she will."

"Then," Kitty ignored Bree's glare, "you should talk to them. If it was in the library, then they probably have some information." Kitty paused. "It is a small town, after all. I think all the teachers went to the bathroom, the one in the faculty lounge." Kitty extended her hand, and after some hesitation, Marley allowed herself to be lead away from the wall, with Bree staring darkly at the back of Kitty's head.

While giving Marley some privacy to clean herself up, Bree hissed her displeasure at Kitty.

"Odds are they won't know anything. Small or not, half the people in this town have left in the last ten years and the other half just arrived!"

"I didn't know census taking was a hobby of yours."

"Look, I get that you want to help Marley, especially considering how your relationship is… different then Marley's and I. But this might be going too far."

"Actually, not doing this would be going too far. Don't you think that I could be comforting her right now, and being a very good 'friend'? But that's not going to get answers, and that's what Marley wants."

"Marley wants them to come from her mom."

"Maybe her mom needs some help."

"You're not in a position to decide that."

"Well someone should be!" Kitty half yelled. The door opened and Kitty nearly jumped out of skin, but studying Marley's face did not yield any anger at being discussed when not there.

The trek to the teacher's lounge was tense, but not eventful. For once, Kitty thought bitterly.

"Hey. You know, Marley, if you don't want to do this, we, we won't think any less of you, for what that's worth." For the second time that day, Kitty counted on Bree to play devil's advocate and see how Marley reacted.

"I know I may not seem like it, but I feel better than I did before. It's just- knowing that he was here. It scares me. I guess I just realized things are a lot smaller then they seemed." Marley looked up at the ceiling, and Kitty followed her gaze. While the first and second floors were lit and heated, the third and above were dark and cold, so Kitty understood when Marley instinctively shivered, although she doubted that was all there is too it. "I need to know what when on that he's in those books, and what it means." Bree nodded.

"We're here."

True enough, the actual lounge was deserted, save for the metallic hum of the coffee maker brewing an, arguably, fresh pot of java.

"This way," Kitty waved them over, towards the back, past a worn sofa, a lunch table and a shelf, and towards the back, and knocked on the door. It opened, and Roz's head popped out, casting a glare out before settling on the three girls.

"Something break?"

"No, we just need to talk to Mr. Shuester."

"Well, you can talk, but don't expect him to talk back. Unless you think," Roz opened the door wider, and the sound of a man retching echoed off of what looked like blue marble, but was likely a fine layer of lapis lazuli over concrete, Kitty suspected, "as fine conversation."

"Then maybe you can help." Kitty offered the book to the coach, who squinted at it.

"Sorry, no clue as to what this jabber-wocky is. Where'd you get it?"

"Library." Roz made a noise of interest and then held the door open for the girls who took it as an invitation to come inside. Emma and Shannon stood at the sinks, the latter sipping coffee while the first gritted her teeth so hard it looked painful. When Mr. Shuester threw up again, Emma actually shook with the force.

"Yo, Coppertop, Shehulk, come check this out. They found a book in the library in some funky language. No wonder the literacy rate is so low."

"We think it's from a couple of decades ago, looks old, but not that much. Any idea how this gets in a high school library?"

"I think this is some…collection of memories, like a time capsule deal. Here Emma, you've been a…Lima-ian for longer. Can you make heads or tails?" Shannon asked. Emma took the book gingerly.

"My, that's dusty."

"And yet you're in a bathroom," Kitty pointed out. Emma sighed.

"It's not like I have a choice," she said looking Shannon grimly.

"I said I was sorry; what more do you want me to do?"

"You could stop drinking the coffee in here," Emma said quickly.

"And drink it out there all by myself?"

"Yeah," Roz seconded, "only weirdos and old people do that." She took a sip out of a mug herself. Emma sighed, than clamped her mouth shut as Mr. Shuester vomited again, her fists balling around the tome.

"I didn't attend school here. My parents thought that Irish Catholicism was the last refuge for red heads and so I went to an all-girls school. During the interview the nuns thought they were white supremacists. Sorry," Emma babbled rapidly handing the book back to Kitty, who sighed when she felt Marley shift, staring at the floor beside her.

"How much vomit could be in one man?!" Kitty growled in frustration, as Bree cracked her neck in boredom.

"You would be, horribly, incredibly horribly disgustedly surprised at that amount." Roz eyed the woman uneasily.

"Great. The one person who could be actually useful is spewing like Linda Blair.

"It's not green." Emma remarked slightly dementedly. "I don't know why that matters; it wouldn't be any better if was."

The door behind them opened, Sylvester shoved herself in, Bree and Marley barely avoiding the door's path.

"Chuckleheads and assorted Jujyfruit. Three students have left the perimeter, and if- what are you three doing here?" Sylvester glared at them.

"Escaping New Jack city, AKA the library; you never said we could leave," Bree challenged.

"Well, I'm saying it now."

"Shouldn't you get your co-principal to sign off on that?"

"You honestly think I need that balding chimp of a man to run this school, Dulce de leche Cheerio?"

"Yes," Bree ignored the insult.

"I have been herding children through the trough that is the public school system before you parents were even birthed in their respective litters and this school for almost as long-"

"Yeah?" Bree cut her off. "Then who the hell is this?" Bree shoved their find at the woman, who took it surprisingly gently, genuinely curious.

"This? This is…"

Grandma. Grandma. Hey, Grandma, are you okay?"

"Yes." Her voice came thick, like she hadn't used it in awhile.

"It's the Krampus. You just stopped telling the story."

"Sorry. I lost myself there for a moment. But you're right, it was -"

"Christmas demon, Krampus."

"And we have a book on Krampus because?"

"I stole it from my mother, who in turn claimed it as a spoil of war when hunting Nazi war criminals. I donated them to the school so she couldn't get at them. If I could have found a reasonable use in this mausoleum of half baked hopes and corrosive change for a staff car I would have donated that, and yet they canceled auto shop completely in disregard of my feelings."

"To spite your mother."

"Correct. Why the sudden interest, anyway?"

"Marley…says she saw that…Kram-pus here."

"In the school?" Kitty blinked and turned to the brunette, realizing she had gotten very little of the story. Slightly uneasy now that all attention was on her, she stumbled.

"No, not-not here, not now. When I was young, like five, I think, he was in my room. And that's all I remember. I just recognized the picture, and it scared me. My mom said not to worry, that he was gone, but I didn't think I would see it again and it would be at McKinley."

The latch door of the third stall opened, and Mr. Shuester walked, half stumbled out.

"Sue," he said, but was staring at Marley, Kitty noticed. Sylvester turned towards him.

"Nice spit curl William. Gotten over your 'flu-bug' yet?"

"Don't change the subject."

"You're the one lurching out of bathrooms looking like hell warmed over; that generally changes the subject, in my experience." The man wiped his brow, and pushed his hair back before running the water in a sink. Splashing some water on his face, Mr. Shuester managed a glare from a countenance that was less flushed. Sylvester was less than impressed. "Well?"

"If she saw him-"

"Probably a bad dream. The junk kids ate in the nineties." Roz rolled her eyes.

"Okay, you two better cut it with this Nightmare on Elm Street crap and get on with it. Is Sylvester the monster in disguise?"

"How dare you?" Roz held her hands up in surrender.

"You're right. That was wrong of me." Roz took the book. "This is no where near as ugly as you are." Mr. Shuester sighed, and Shannon winced.

"Maybe, rinse your mouth out, buddy?"

"I don't have a toothbru-" Emma quickly pulled out a plastic enclosed brush.

"Toothpaste?"

"Ah, mint, tartar control, whitening…?" The curly headed man stared at the variety of pastes, stored in a seasonal bag, adorned with snowmen, slightly perturbed.

"Because snowmen melt; no mess, after awhile," Emma explained.

"Two bottle caps and a rubber band."

"I don't speak cray-cray, Sylvester."

"That is all I need to end you!"

"Do you have anything with those little, burst strips I think they're called?"

"She's your wife, not a toiletries aisle in a convenience store."

"No, no, I like when he gets this way. Really, you never know how much you can fall in love with a man, until you find out how easy it is to talk about the mundane stuff."

Rolling her eyes at the oppressive chatter, Kitty turned away to someone more refreshing and found an sympathetically unimpressed Bree and a viciously exhausted looking Marley.

"Whoa. Marls do you need to lie down?"

"Or maybe some earplugs?" Bree quipped. The girl in question took a deep breath.

"I want…." Kitty nodded eagerly, but Marley gently, but firmly pushed her aside, Bree stepping out of the way to make room for her. "I want answers." The five kept talking and bickering. "I want to know." Her voice raised above it's soggy hush. "I want to hear." Kitty frowned as Marley's voice became slightly louder than a normal speaking voice. At the very least, Kitty noted, Mr. Shuester had chosen a tooth cleaning product and was busy wetting the opened brush, uncapping a bottle of some blood red and aqua blue labeled compound.

Mr. Shuester had placed the paste adorned brush in his mouth and was just starting to work up a lather when Marley calmly walked over to a stall, pushed the ajar door open a bit more than it was.

And closed it with all the force she could muster.

The reverberations silenced the quintuplet, leaving a scowling Sylvester, a shocked Emma, a concerned Shannon, a vexed Roz, and Mr. Shuester looking beset with the brush and baking soda oxidizing in his mouth, and dripping into the sink. Kitty waited.

"What, your voice not working there, plain and tall?"

Marley found her voice.

"Shut. Up." Kitty expected the former coach to begin another war of words in response to this challenge to her authority, but instead Sylvester nodded her head.

"Better." Then Kitty remembered that rock bottom was where Sylvester liked most of the people around her to be.

And Marley was approaching bedrock, not getting the answers she was going behind her mother's back to get. Marley glared at Mr. Shuester, who nodded, held up a finger for a minute, and proceeded to scrub his mouth vigorously, spit and rinse, finally turning on his heal to begin his story, swiping his forearm across his chin whilst swallowing thickly.

"Are you sure you want to know, Marley?" She nodded. He threw a glance at Kitty, and likely Bree as well, receiving an expression of hesitant relinquish, if Kitty had that right, and agitated curiosity, respectively.

Drying his hands, he sighed, his previous forthrightness having met resistance at the sight of the unsteady girl, and having passed into acquiescence: "Alright then."

"When I was a student here, late eighties, early nineties, we had a little…issue." Sylvester made a sound of disagreement, and Mr. Shuester glared at her.

"It was more than a little issue, William, or did you forget every colorfully named prank played on you and your glee club? The property damage? The scahadenfreude? Before him, you singing monkeys had some station in this school, and after dear old Krampus was done, you-well just look in the mirror."

"I remember things just fine, Sue. But that's not what Marley wants to know about."

"Good. I was beginning to worry that you were even more of a candy-ass than I had figured you out to be."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"It's not."

"I don't care. Anyway, yes, things were bad with…the Krampus, but they got better." Marley, still hanging onto the toilet stall wall, stared warily. Kitty wished she would come back to the arguably more comfortable interim between the stalls and the door, beside her, because she had a sense that Marley was unapproachable at this point.

"How?" Mr. Shuester halted.

"It's complicated."

"Tell me."

"Your mother."

"My mother, what?"

"Stopped him, for a while."

"Is that what he wants?"

"Wanted, Marley. He hasn't been around for ages, not that I know of."

"You don't know everything." Mr. Shuester frowned at Marley's whisper

"No, I don't. But I don't have to, to know that he would be here if he wanted to." Emma quickly stepped beside him, giving his arm a gentle tug.

"Marley…do you want him to come back?" There wasn't a trace of accusation or criticism in the woman's voice. Still, Kitty felt her stomach drop and all the tension suck out of the room, replaced with a cold anger, and briefly wondered if this was what the bends or rapid decompression felt like; she did feel dizzy.

"NO!" Kitty could not remember ever hearing Marley scream. Shout, whimper, sob; yes. But never scream, so loud and so shrilly that Emma could have been mistaken for having found a fear of God.

"No, I didn't mean it like that Marley, I mean, you, might need to-to face your fears- ah, you know- for closure…" Marley ran, freight training past Kitty and Bree, who let her pass, wincing at the ricochet of the door as it's lever inflexibly yielded to the force of Marley's shoulder. Kitty took off after her, followed by Bree- she was starting to appreciate the darker girl's companionship; whatever she wanted from Marley, Bree was an easy counterpart. Stable too.

The last thing Kitty heard was the following exchange:

"Don't say 'I told you so', Sue."

"I think she did that for me, William."

This time, Marley had vanished. They ran up and down the first and second floors, and fearing the worst, ran to the lobby entrance, that Marley had left without her coat-which was still in the choir room closet, Bree confirmed- and trotted out into the snow, embracing some eternal warmth that only the freezing water of melted and therefore free of any heat sink, could provide.

"Thank you, Jesus," Kitty, said unabashedly when they found that the double doors were locked.

"Kitty."

"What?" She was still not done being grateful.

"What if she's in one of the other floors? It's almost as cold up there, as it is out there."

Kitty swore. "Then let's go."

"Wait."

"No. No waiting, this is not the time to…" Bree placed a hand on her shoulder.

"For our coats, so we don't freeze to death? I like having a less then ten percent body fat index, but it makes for crappy insulation." Bree smiled weakly at her own joke, but it faded when Kitty didn't return it.

"Probably a good idea," Kitty offered instead, getting a quick, enthusiastic nod.

Kitty was almost as grateful for her baby blue parka- dark blue in the incredibly low, orange light that flittered in through panoramic and classroom windows-as she had been about the locked doors. The third floor was oppressively devoid of heat, and far worse then the blather that had ensued before Marley had been told, for it was relentless, the chill, as simple cold could be shrugged off, but a chill was active, drilling and evaporating any and all sources of heat.

"Marley!" Kitty called, and no response came. Bree followed her actions, trying a door, what Kitty thought might be the pottery room. It didn't budge, and Kitty felt a sense of déjà vu.

"If all the doors our locked, even the bathrooms, that's a good thing, right. Marley can't stand out here; hell, I've got half the Hundred Acre Forest on and I'm still cold. Maybe she doubled back around?" Kitty shook her head.

"Marley's the type to suffer in silence, and alone. She doesn't always get to, but if there's a will…" Bree shivered, apparently at the thought of Marley enduring the cold sans protection.

"Even if it means her death?" Kitty stared at her, even as she wasn't able to see her hand in front of her face, but turned to the other girl's direction. "Right- probably not the best thing to say right now."

"Look, she's stubborn, in this at least, not suicidal. And besides, it is not cold enough to freeze to death, especially if Marley's moving from place to place." Kitty caught the faint shadow of Bree nodding and the two searched the third floor, peering into glass, just in case Marley had locked herself in one, though not giving the possibility much more than a glance-it would be unlikely that any of the doors were open, in the event that a major storm blew in a window, or something had invested the school, containment was key, and most teachers locked their classrooms at the end of the day, out of habit even if it weren't a rule.

"Wait." Kitty stopped short of saying their friend's full name-'Mar' and stared at the slightly more visible Bree, illuminated by a window. "You said where there's a will there's a way for Marley to stay where she wants, right?"

"Yes, something like that."

"What about the stairwells? They would be warm enough, and allow her to move around in case she heard someone coming." Kitty blinked, as she hadn't considered the possibility that Marley would actively avoid them.

"Huh."

"What?"

"Before I was concerned. Now I'm concerned, hurt, and feel stupid," Kitty ticked off in a lilt of sarcastic cheerfulness. Bree cocked her head.

"A triple threat. Nice."

"So how do we do this?"

"Taking direction from me now, are we?"

"If it means helping Marley, than yes."

"Alright then," Bree replied sounding pleased. She slapped her fist into her palm. "You and I take the back stairwell, and I go to the top floor while you to the lobby; I go down, you go up. If Marley is either staircase, we'll bump in to her eventually, and whoever is first will call out to the other. Kitty?"

"I heard you. I just can't believe we're actually going to flush Marley out like she's a rabbit or something. It's a good plan don't get me wrong."

"But….?"

"Not how I envisioned this evening going."

"Morning, you mean."

"It's midnight!" Kitty scrambled for her phone.

"Yes. Forty minutes ago. Hence, morning." The two had reached the back staircase. "Is your carriage turning into a pumpkin, or something?"

"The temperature is going to drop as the snowstorm passes."

"Great. Now I know what it's like to be in a remake of The Grey."

"Without the wolves. Boyfriend drag you?"

"Cousin's fourteenth birthday. And wait until we get back after one in the morning-I'm sure they've noticed us missing by now."

"This…morning just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it?"

"Any better and I'll take my chances walking. Well, see you in four floors." Kitty nodded as Bree ascended the steps and she quickly reached the lobby landing and raced to the front stair well, wondering if Bree had found Marley yet, rolling her eyes at her own obsession with the girl.

Kitty marched up the steps trying to picture how long it would take Bree to reach the top, even if they had to meet in the middle at some point. First flight done, three to go.

Hugging herself against the cold and the sudden realization that she was alone, Kitty quickened her pace, slightly spooked to see her breath mist in front of her. After a minute, the second floor was done.

Rounding a corner, Kitty felt a shaft of anxiety through her chest, and had to fight to climb up the steps. What would she find when she reached the middle? Nothing? Marley glaring back with hateful eyes, and try and push her down the stairs? Kitty wasn't sure which would be worse. Kitty shivered on the last landing before her question would be answered, even though she had forgotten the cold.

Up the fourth floor staircase she went, already attempting to pretend to feel cross, angry so as not to be rejected, and that pseudo annoyance helped liven her steps and thaw her heart, and she almost believed her insincerity, even as she froze suddenly, just before the landing.

"Come on, Kitty." She rolled her eyes at her cowardice, and then said, "Don't be a…scaredy-cat." Kitty hopped, skipped and finally jumped onto the landing peering up, but not able to open her eyes.

At least not until she heard a tired, sleepy giggle.

"Hey, scaredy-cat," Marley giggled again, eyes slightly lidded. Kitty crossed her arms over her chest.

"Oh, no. I did not search high and low for your ass so you could stick me with a nick name," Kitty uncrossed her arms as she said this, "in a moment of weakness," and took off her coat, wincing at the lack of heat, and quickly wrapped it around a protesting Marley.

"I'm fine, Kitty. See? My hands are inside my shirt, nice and cozy."

"Yeah well, maybe this is my way of feeling you up," Kitty said and it wasn't untrue-Kitty was now hugging a puffy parka incased Marley, who decided to rest her head on Kitty's shoulder, shutting her eyes. "Okay, not good, time to wake up Rose," Kitty shook her awake, causing the taller girl to grumble.

"A-ha!" Bree jumped from the sixth floor landing and shouted in victory, causing Marley's eyes to shoot open.

"Was that really necessary?" Kitty asked flatly.

"Oh, come on I was right! Let me enjoy it." Bree frowned. "Like, exactly right, what the hell?" Marley turned to look at her.

"You guys aren't very quiet; I heard you talking, and decided this was the best place to wait for you to find me.

"Or, you could have just come when we called."

"Or gone back downstairs." Marley replied succinctly to both suggestions.

"I was still angry at that time, and afterwards I didn't want to go downstairs by myself."

"So you waited for us to come get you?" Marley nodded, sleepy again.

After a yawn: "You seem to be really good at that tonight." Kitty glared at Bree's grin at Kitty's flushed cheeks, snapping away to bring Marley to her feet.

"Well you're not by yourself now, so let's get back to island of Misfit Toys, what'd you say?" Marley nodded but didn't open her eyes; the warmth was soothing her to sleep, Kitty hoped, rather than the chill luring her there.

Kitty found herself reminded of The Grey upon seeing Mr. Shuester's angry expression and snow dusted fur lined coat.

"Where were you three?! We thought you left the school." Kitty rolled her eyes.

"The doors were locked. This is Marley we're talking about, not Houdini."

"Told ya," Emma chirped from behind him.

"How's the "flu" Mr. Shue?" Bree changed the topic.

"Much better. And I am glad that you found Marley, but Kitty why aren't you wearing your jacket?"

"Because I was brash and foolish," Kitty answered before Marley could respond. "But everything is alright now, I'm sure none of us, Coach Sylvester included, wants this getting out, so can we just put Marley to bed?" The man sighed tiredly.

"Sure, the rest of the club has already settled down; there are sleeping bags and a couple of mattresses."

"Why does a high school have mattresses?" Bree asked, looking repulsed.

"Long story-they're plastic wrapped, and honestly a safer bet than the sleeping bag." Mr. Shuester paused. "Marley if you need to talk-"

"Honestly, I just want to sleep." The man nodded briskly at Marley's curt answer, and opened the door for them. The trio took his advice, dragging the last mattress to a shelf adjacent to their last spot and surveyed the scene.

Most of the freshmen were huddled on an island of mattresses; Jake and Ryder in sleeping bags; one freshman girl drooled onto a three ring; Figgins slept on a table while Shannon and Roz had formed sleeping quarters of two chairs. Finally, Sylvester appeared to be awake, sitting up, but a light snore gave her away.

"How screwed would we be if this got out?" Kitty shrugged at Bree's question

"Given half the crap that goes on at McKinley, some thing that looks like the Christmas party from hell isn't going to raise any eyebrows… I hope."

They placed the mattress down, and Kitty used a pen to open the plastic, tossing their coats on the freed makeshift bed, Kitty and Bree immediately taking either side, partly from exhaustion and partly, at least on Kitty's side, to keep Marley in the middle and make it hard for her to get away, even as much as Kitty doubted that happening again.

Marley burrowed her way between the two of them without a word, but after ten minutes or so, Kitty didf not here her breathing sow or her small movements lessen. Turning around, she was greeted by wide awake pools of cerulean. The simple sight of Marley's alertness made her yawn in order to pry herself from slumber's embrace.

"Seriously, you're not tired?" Marley grinned sheepishly.

"I guess before was just a fluke," and kitty rubbed her eyes.

"I know the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results, but… how 'bout a song to get you to sleep?" Bree turned and stared blearily at them.

"Let me guess: this is something that'll go quicker with my cooperation?" Kitty nodded, tilting suddenly as her body interpreted the gesture as an invitation to go back to sleep.

"What song?"

"Lemme see," Kitty's blurred mind tried to think of something both soothing and able to capture the bitch of a night they had. In other words, a melody that was sad and sweet and one she knew complete…

Piano Man sure as hell was not a lullaby, and Kitty smiled drunkenly at the ludicrousness of it.

But it had given her an idea.

"Sing along if you know it," Kitty advised. She raised her hand and vaguely saw Marley glance, slightly nervously at the limb, until it found it's way to Marley's back to rub soothing circles, barely aided by Kitty's brain.

"Starry, starry night," Kitty hummed gently, trying to be comforting and not wake the others, but less the latter than the first. "Paint your pallet blue and grey," Kitty forced her eyes to open, and they met with congruent colors, vibrating to reflexive glances. "Look out on a Summer's day, with eyes that see the darkness in my soul."

"Shadow on the hills, sketch the trees and the daffodils," and Bree scoffed, a mountain of snow mocking Kitty's words, or Don McLean's rather, and corroborating the rest, "Catch the breeze and winter chills, in colors on the snowy winter land."

Then Bree joined in, singing with an entirely different yet familiar meaning the chorus:

"And now I understand, what you tried to say to me; how you suffered for your sanity; How you tried to set them free."

Kitty smiled dazed, thinking about how Marley had made today very…interesting, in ways both intentional and not.

"They did not listen; They did not know how-perhaps they'll listen now" Fat chance, Kitty thought superiorly, and yet couldn't for the life of her figure out what she had to feel superior about.

"Starry, starry night, flaming flowers that brightly blaze, swirling clouds of violet haze/ Reflect in Vincent's China eyes of blue."

"Colors change in hue, morning fields of amber grain weathered faces lined in pain, are smoothed beneath the artist's loving hand," Kitty circles her hand quicker on Marley's back, confusedly asking herself that wasn't the song about Marley and not her?

"And now I understand what you tried to say to me, How you suffered for your sanity, How you tried to set them free,"

Poor Marley bounced around what felt to Kitty like her empty skull, and sleep was both muting hers and Bree's voices as well as making them seem infinite.

"Perhaps they'll listen now, for they could not love you, but still your love was true," And for some reason, Kitty felt vaguely apprehensive about those lines.

"And when no hope was left in sight on that starry, starry night, you took your life as lovers often do," Now Kitty couldn't tell if the word 'lovers' or the notion of Marley committing suicide were more devastating, but her sluggish brain managed to remind her the song was about an artist and not the now fuzzy form next to her.

"But I could have told you Vincent, this world was never meant for one as beautiful as you." The two girls sung continuously now, sensing the silent crescendo that would otherwise accompany it besides in just the beginnings of their dreams.

"Starry, starry night, portraits hung in empty walls; faceless names on nameless walls, with eyes that watch the world and can't forget:

Like that stranger that you met; the ragged men in ragged clothes; the silver thorn of bloody rose, lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow,

And now I think I know what you tried to say to me; how you suffered for your sanity,

How you tried to set them free, chimed Bree in a mumble that garbled her short solo. Then together once more,

They're not listening, they're not listening still…"

Kitty tried to listen, but sleep finally overpowered her; even her hand lay slung over Marley's side, still and Kitty hoped she had gotten to sleep. She offered this as compensation, maybe even an apology, and she sung alone, Bree far gone:

"Perhaps they never will."