About thirty years ago a tragedy occurred in a small Ohio town. Now, no one will talk about it. Dalton Academy used to be known for housing the rich and famous' boys. The school was top of the line. It was a safe haven for most of its residents until one boy came to the school. All that the youth of its alumnus' know is that two students perished in a fire. Soon after, the school was shut down. The last boys at the school grew up and took over their parents empires or made careers of their own. Over the years, some of them never lost touch. They still hosted New Year's Eve parties that could scare off Charlie Sheen. But every time the saw each other a dark cloud hung over them, friends lost and a home destroyed, no matter how hard they tried it was never gone. These, now, men got together under the umbrella of one last crazy idea. After years of meeting in secret and discussing ways to go about it they made a decision. The Dalton boys would have their own sons attend their beloved school no matter what. Dalton Academy opened again under new management. At first, the others from the school thought it a terrible idea, but after each and every one was approached by a familiar set of twins, the school began to fill up. Hopefully this new breed of young men will keep away the madness of Dalton Academy.

Chapter One

Alex stepped through the giant doors with ornate designs in the woodwork. He walked into the foyer and looked around his uncles' old home, Windsor House. His father, Shane Randall, spent some time here visiting his brother and someone else – or so he thinks.

The only time he had ever heard of the other boy in Windsor his father had an interest in seeing was when Uncle Kurt had a bit too much wine at dinner and decided it was time for a talk, man to man. What started as how wonderful Dalton was/is/will be - he didn't seem to know which tense would fit best - began to twist into something dark. He never mentioned a name, but he slipped hints about him: tripping everywhere, those doe-eyes, his strawberry curls, and the wardrobe! The next day Alex asked Kurt what he had meant last night with his ramblings. He'd never seen the color drain so quickly from someone before. His uncle was visible shaken, but tried to shrug it off as Alex having another one of his dreams. He ruffled his dark curls before turning into the kitchen with a sullen expression.

The hall was impressive; the marble, cascading staircases, the wainscoting in deep, rich wood, but this type of luxury was no stranger to Alex. He'd always been well off with one of his fathers, Micah Randall, being the award winning photographer and his other, Shane, being the dance instructor to the stars after having a career on Broadway with his brother, Blaine Anderson, and his husband, Kurt Hummel-Anderson.

He turned in a circle, taking in his new surrounds he heard so much about. This was going to be his new home. His uncles stepped through the archway. Kurt's eyes were already watering while Blaine patted him soothingly on the back and gave a sad smile. A young man, maybe 17 in age, came down the stairs to greet them with an almost-too-wide grin. "Mr. Anderson and Mr. Hummel-Anderson," he shook their hands with a firm grip. "And this must be Alex!" He extended his hand, but was met with an icy glare instead of the customary smile and handshake. Alex rolled his eyes after a moment and turned away, uninterested. His uncles were displeased with his behavior, but were used to it by this point. They didn't bother voicing their opinions on the topic again. "I'm Jason Brightman." A light sparked in Kurt and Blaine's eyes. "I'm the prefect of Windsor for the time being until we can hold a proper election. I'll show you to your room."

The two adults let smirks grow on their faces as they followed the blonde up the stairs to the second floor. Alex continued down the hall with his head down ghosting in Jason's footsteps, but his uncles stopped at two doorways directly across from each other. Their hands caressed the scarred wood. The prefect stopped at the very end and turned the handle of an easily ignorable door. It opened to reveal a room far different than any others. Unlike the rest of the dorms, this room was kept just how the last occupant had left it. Alex prodded the cushy walls and smiled. A choke came from behind them. Kurt was trying to hold it together. "My father thought this room would suit him best," Jason said in a sad tone. Alex was about to ask why, but when he turned his uncles and Jason were headed down the hall discussing some of the improvements.

The goodbyes were quick, but for Alex any second would be far too long. The Broadway stars were on their way back to New York within twenty minutes of their arrival. "Thank goodness," he thought as he watched their SUV pull out of the guarded grounds. Jason was the only other student in Dalton for the moment. In the next week many others would be flocking in, but for now he would enjoy the solitude. Thankfully Jason got the idea that Alex liked to be left alone.

He went back up to his padded room. There was plenty of time to wander the halls, might as well take it slow. Alex leaned against the white padding and let his body slide down to the cushy floor. "Who the hell had this room," he thought aloud. He'd met most of the "conspirators" at parties or on vacations with his uncles. They were hard to avoid. Mr. Houston, maybe? No. He'd have torn the place apart looking for signs of demons. Mr. Hughes looked like he could use a padded cell every once in a while. Alex moved over to his small, raised bed. He eyed the wardrobe. His parents had said not to build one here, but what they don't know won't hurt them.

An hour and a half later, Alex's bed was at least four feet in the air and beneath it was the most colorful blanket fort he had ever built. At home, his fort took up half his bedroom. Since he was little, he'd always had a fort of some kind. Almost every day, Micah came home to find the couches torn apart and their cushions stacked in a strategic manner against one of the walls. And without fail, when he approached the fortress he'd be pelted with Nerf darts. Sadly, Alex wasn't permitted to bring his Nerf collection the Brightmans had bought him over the years for birthdays, un-birthdays, and Christmases. Something about a balcony accident...

The Grandfather clock in the hall chimed nine. Jason was in the common room Skyping with someone. Alex had fallen asleep in his fort. The Stranger was slipping out of his hands. A pale, small hand took the book slowly from him and set in beside him. The small, round face tilted to the side and watched the boy with such familiar curls. He removed his oval glasses from the sleeping boy's face and set them on top of the book. Alex shifted in his sleep at the cold touch. The lights flickered out.