Author's Notes: This story is loosely based on the season 6 Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode "Normal Again." No, nobody's a demon or a vampire in this fic, but the plot and premise are similar, but sans demons or vampires, with a few twists of my own.

Contains minor s3 spoilers, but nothing major.

As always, thanks go out to the lovely SwingGirlAtHeart, Bone_Dry, and AdamPascalFan for their input and beta-ing!

If we shadows have offended,

Think but this and all is mended,

That you have but slumber'd here

While these visions did appear.

And this weak and idle theme,

No more yielding but a dream.

(Puck's-not THAT Puck!-speech from Shakespeare's MidsummerNight's Dream)

Kurt glanced at the clock. It had been an hour since his alarm went off, and normally he'd be putting the final touches on the look of the day and putting his homework in his bag, but somehow when he sat on his bed to plan the ensemble he was going to wear, everything felt heavy and moving suddenly became a huge effort. His throat was scratchy, and when he tried to get up, a wave of dizziness crashed over him, so he was compelled to sit back down. That was an hour ago, and Kurt knew that he needed to be out the door in five minutes if he was going to be on time for homeroom, but for some reason, moving was starting to become impossible.

It wasn't that Kurt was feeling particularly bad exactly, but if he had the option of staying home that day, he'd take it. He'd seen Ferris Beuller's Day Off enough times that he could fake an illness with the best of them, but it occurred to him that for maybe the first time ever, he actually didn't want to miss. He'd set out to make his senior year amazing, and so far, it was. One Blaine Anderson wasn't the entire reason for that, but he was certainly a major part of it.

Although things were infinitely better for him at school, especially with Blaine there, they weren't perfect. He and Mercedes hadn't exactly been talking since she left New Directions. Rachel was still hell-bent on beating him for the solos for Sectionals as well as the Presidency, so she wasn't exactly speaking to him, either. Between Booty Camp and West Side Story rehearsal, he hadn't actually had much quality time for Blaine and barely had time to breathe. But on the bright side, since Karofsky had stopped the bullying, the rest of the jocks actually laid off. If a member of New Directions wasn't in a class with him, he was still hard-pressed to find a partner during group or pair assignments, and he still got comments under-breath (and sometimes not so under-breath) from students in the hall from time to time, but if those were the least of his complaints, he could live with that.

"Come on, Kurt!" Carole's voice called from downstairs. "You're gonna be late if you don't get a move on!"

"Just a minute!" Kurt tried to holler back, but the only sound that would come out of his throat was barely a croak.

"Kurt?" Carole called out. Kurt heard the sound of footsteps.

He threw on a t-shirt and a sweater as fast as he could despite the heaviness in his limbs and met her at the stairs.

"Finn's ready when you are. There's a bagel left on the counter if you…oh honey…" she paused to touch his forehead. "You don't look so good. You're not burning up…but still, I don't think it would be a bad idea if you stayed home today. Should I call your father and see what he says?"

Kurt shook his head. "I'll be fine," he croaked out. "Just a cold or something. I think it's going around."

"We've had more than a couple of people admitted into the hospital for this bug, Kurt. You wanna be careful with this thing. Sure you don't wanna nip it in the bud and get some rest?"

"Can't," Kurt said, shaking his head. Then he stopped because it made him dizzy again. "Presentation in French today and today's the day of the duet competition and I'm not about to let Blaine down."

"Kurt you can barely talk and you think you'll be doing Blaine favors by singing today? You have an amazing voice when you are well, but right now?" She shook her head. "Can't you do it another day?"

"We're down by half and there aren't as many people to compete so the competition time is cut short. And besides, if I eat enough honey and add a wedge of lemon with my green tea, it should help get my voice back to normal by the afternoon."

"Will you at least take some Vitamin C and Zinc and promise me you'll drink plenty of fluids?" Kurt nodded, but he world was swimming. "And if you need me to sign you out, I'm off today so don't hesitate to call, okay?"

"Okay," Kurt said and smiled. He didn't nod.

Kurt tried his best to soldier through the day. He didn't really have much of a choice in the matter, but by the time Glee rehearsal rolled around, though, it was a losing battle.

"Kurt," Blaine asked, shooting him a worried glance. "Are you sure you're okay? You look awful." It was what had to be the sixth variation of that question for as many times.

"Thank you so much for your overwhelming vote of confidence before a performance, Blaine," Kurt snapped. "Sorry…" Kurt grumbled with a sigh as he slumped in his chair, grateful to not have to be on his feet. "It's just a cold. I'll be fine."

"Look, we can just tell Mr. Schuester we're out if you…" Whatever Blaine was about to say was cut off by Rachel bursting through the doors.

"Everyone, just so you know," Rachel announced. "Finn and I threw the duets competition last year so Sam and Quinn could win. Blaine, I have no intention of extending you the same courtesy. You all should just quit now and save yourselves the humiliation."

"Fuck you, Rachel?" Kurt muttered.

After enduring Rachel and Finn's rousing rendition of Suddenly Seymour from Little Shop of Horrors, Kurt wished he had a tranquilizer gun to shoot at Rachel to make her stop. Quinn and Puck's rendition of Lady Antebellum's Just a Kiss (which came off as more angry than sexy due to the fact that Puck was still angry with Quinn for the way she was handling the Beth situation), it was his and Blaine's turn for Maroon 5's Moves Like Jagger.

Kurt's heart was racing as it always did during a performance, but he couldn't quite stop his legs from shaking. The choreography he'd worked out with Blaine required a lot of turns, which he was severely regretting by the time they'd gone through the chorus just once, and when they got to the second verse, it was all he could do to make his mouth and legs move at the same time.

When it was time to sing his line at the bridge, the world began to grow dark and everything sounded like it was under water.

He didn't finish the rest of the verse.

He remembered falling. He vaguely registered hearing his name being shouted and Schue yelling for someone to call 9-1-1.

Then there was nothing.

"Oh good, he's coming to," a familiar voice said. Sue. Sue? That made no sense at all. 'Why would Coach Sylvester be…'

"Kurt?"' his dad's voice came from somewhere close by. "Come on buddy, come back to us."

His eyelids felt heavy and everything still sounded like it was underwater. The sounds were odd and the smells were unfamiliar, and he tried to bring his hands up to let his dad know he was listening, but his wrists were strapped being held down by something.

The first thing he noticed when he opened his eyes was that the clothes he was wearing that morning were gone. Instead he was in a plain white cotton atrocity and if the outfit wasn't nightmarish enough, Coach Sylvester was flashing a tiny little flash light in his eyes.

"Dad? Why is Coach Sylvester doing that?"

"She's just checking you out, Kurt," his dad said.

"Blaine and I were doing that routine, and I just…fell."

He managed to open his eyes, and he wondered for a second if he was still out of it and this was all some cruel hallucination.

"Mom?"

"He knows who I am!" she breathed.

"Do you know where you are, Kurt?" Coach Sylvester asked him. To be more accurate, the person asking the question looked like Coach Sylvester, sounded like her, but that's as far as the similarities went.

"Am I in the hospital? I had a cold…flu…something today and just lost my balance."

His parents exchanged a worried glance at his statement.

His parents. Parents. Both of them. He tried to wrap his brain around that, but then reminded himself that it was probably all some kind of dream. He looked down again at the clothes he was wearing.

'Try nightmare,' he thought ruefully as Coach Sylvester began to move her finger from side to side.

"Ten points for Gryffindor, kid. You're in the hospital."

"So I'm better now. I'm free to go, right?"

"This is certainly progress, Kurt, but I'm afraid with a prolonged illness like yours, this is the best place for you right now."

"Illness?"

Coach Sylvester exchanged a glance with his parents.

"Coach Sylvester, what the fuck is going on."

"I'm not Coach Sylvester," she answered in a tone that sounded like she was talking to a small child or a crazy person. I'm Doctor Sylvester. You're in New Directions Mental Facility."

"I'm crazy?"

"As a mental professional, I'm not supposed to use that word, but if the shoe fits…" She shrugged and put her light back in her pocket. "Let me be the first to welcome you back to The Land of the Lucid."