Summary: When the gleeks end up stranded at a rundown motel for the weekend, Sam notices Puck is acting strange. He's quiet and withdrawn. But is he really just tired or is there something more going on? And can they help him before it's too late?

Pairings: Chang-squared, Fuinn, Kurtofsky, with some Puckleberry/Samtana/Bartie leanings. Puck/Rachel/Santana/Sam/Blaine/Brittany friendship,

Warnings: This contains spoilers up to the second season finale. It pretty much goes AU after that for obvious reasons. Just assume everything up to the New York episode is canon. After that, it goes off into Ms.P's happy land! So expect some mild to severe Finn bashing. But to be fair I also threw in some Kurt, Quinn and Mercedes bashing too. Sorry to anyone that offends but it had to be done.

Disclaimer: I don't own this show or anything related to this show. If I did there would be many more songs featuring Santana, Puck and Artie. There would also be a lot more Mike and his wondrous abs. There would also be a lot less emphasis on Finn and Kurt and Chord Overstreet wouldn't be gone. Clearly I don't own the show. So my vision will just have to live on through my stories. *sniff*

Author's Note: Thanks so much for the support for the first chapter. I'm glad that you're enjoying it so far. This chapter answers some questions and hopefully creates some new ones. Any way, enjoy the show. Also it's super long because updates are going to be a little slow. Because my mom is coming to visit and I've gotta straighten up the apartment. So enjoy this super long chapter.


Find a New Place to Hang This Noose

Saturday Morning...

"Seriously. Are you shitting me? The food even sucks," Santana groaned, poking a lump that was supposed to be oatmeal with a frown. She looked up at Sam and he knew he was going to regret making eye contact with her. "Sammy, I'll love you forever if you give me some of your fruit."

"So many comments," Blaine muttered under his breath. Puck let out a huff of air that passed for a chuckle. Sam glared at them both.

"San, you pledge your eternal love for just about everything. Just eat the crappy oatmeal and I'll buy you a better breakfast when we're on the road."

"Now that he's not living in a motel room anymore, Sammy's balling," Puck stage whispered to Blaine. Sam rolled his eyes but he was still concerned. Puck seemed to be in a better mood but Sam knew better. He knew his best friend better than that. Puck had bags under his eyes meaning he didn't get any sleep the night before. His jokes were touch off and there was no real humor behind his laugh. No, Puck was very far from fine. But Sam was determined to fix that tonight. As soon as they got away from this crap hotel with creepy rooms, weird chilly spots and lumpy oatmeal.

"Uh, guys," Will called as he walked into the dining room. The various conversations slowly died out as all eyes flickered towards their choir director. Sam knew right away that he wasn't going to like what the man had to say. Will was looking at them all nervously. His eyes darting between them all, never staying on one in particular. "So there's a bit of an issue."

"What kind of issue?" Finn asked, hesitantly.

Will started to reply but instead pointed out the window. As their table was directly underneath one of the high vaulted windows, Sam, Santana and Brittany immediately leapt up to see what was troubling their teacher. The light snow that had amused them all the night before had turned into a blizzard while they slept. The ground was blanketed by snow as far as they could see. It was piled high and Sam could already see where this was going. Still, Will did not like to leave anything to the imagination.

"We're stuck here. The roads are closed."

"Stuck? Here?" Quinn repeated, shrilly. "But Mr. Schue this place is majorly weird!"

"I know it's not the best but this is the reality," Will sighed heavily. "Unfortunately the roads have been shut down. Communication is pretty sparse too. I'm working on trying to contact your parents and let them know that you guys are safe. We're going to be here until at least Monday. So just try and enjoy it. Think of it as a vacation." Will did not stick around long enough to hear the expletive filled responses to that statement. Instead, he slipped out of the room as quickly as he entered.

"Is he kidding?" Santana snapped. "He really thinks that this shit is kosher? I'm not staying in the Bates Motel another night. This place is creepy as hell."

"So what are you going to do?" Blaine countered. "Melt the snow with your laser eye beams you neglected to tell us about until now?" Santana narrowed her eyes before flinging a spoonful of her oatmeal at his head. Sam winced as the oatmeal slammed into Blaine's forehead with an audible thud. That just wasn't right. Oatmeal wasn't supposed to leave bruises. This place was more fucked up than he thought.

"I really don't want to stay here another night," Brittany moaned, leaning her head on Puck's shoulder. "This place feels wrong."

"Too many feelings," Sam muttered. He glanced at Puck who had yet to verbalize his feelings on this subject. Rachel was similarly silent but that was because she was trying, and failing, to get a signal on her iPhone. "Puck, you alright, man?"

"Yeah," he clearly lied. He rubbed his free hand over his face and sighed. All attempts at playing normal Puck were gone, leaving behind the exhausted shell of their friend. "Just didn't sleep that much last night."

"Why?" Santana asked, leaning forward in concern. Brittany sat up and was also focused on their friends' conversation.

"Kept hearing shit all night."

"Shit like what?" Sam pressed. But it was clear that was the only answer Puck felt like giving up. Sam was not having that. He was ready to continue pushing until he got an answer he liked when Quinn and Mercedes chose that moment to join them. He sighed. This was totally what he needed to make his day perfect: a visit from his least favorite ex-girlfriends. His favorite ex was sitting beside him alternately poking Rachel and her never ending quest to get a signal and silently grilling Puck for more information about his lack of sleep.

"Oh, look it's the less original and worse dressed Mean Girls," Blaine muttered. Sam cracked a grin and only just managed to keep himself from laughing. Brittany and Santana didn't bother to hide it. Quinn glared at Blaine, earning a brilliant smile in return. In the times when he struggled to remember why he hung out with them, Sam thought of these moments and knew. "To what do we owe the honor?"

"Does every conversation have to be so hostile?" Mercedes asked, in the vein of trying to keep the peace.

"Uh, you actually want an answer to that?" Blaine asked, pointedly. His eyes flickered towards Kurt and then back to Mercedes and Quinn. He raised an eyebrow. The two girls nodded silently. "I thought so. So again, what do you want?"

"Is it wrong that I'm strangely turned on right now?" Santana whispered to Rachel.

"No, I feel the same way."

Sam didn't bother to hide the snort at that one. Quinn huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. Sam really didn't know why they expected much better from Blaine. Sam fully believed that they deserved Blaine's attitude and so much more for the role they played in his and Kurt's breakup. It started what was known as the Great Rift (no one felt like coming up with a better name honestly) amongst the senior members of New Directions and the primary reason behind Sam's decision to end things with Mercedes.

The rift started shortly after summer vacation when it became clear that the six of them were a unit. Mercedes was especially jealous and failed to believe Sam when he said there was nothing going on with him or any of the three other girls. That was probably his first sign he should've ended it. But he played dumb and ignored her increasingly more hostile comments towards Rachel. Santana fought back and wasn't nearly as much fun. And Brittany had a way of ignoring you that made cats look good by comparison. He ignored everything until the morning Puck dragged him into the boys' locker room to help retrieve Blaine who was holed up in a bathroom stall with no intention of ever coming out.

While Sam was playing dumb, Kurt was playing Blaine. It seemed that circumstances over the summer forced Kurt and Karofsky to work together. And Kurt fell for his former tormentor, ignoring the fact that he was still with Blaine. And there was where the problem started. Sam supposed life would've been so different if Kurt would've come clean with Blaine in the beginning. But instead he listened to Quinn and Mercedes, who were stupidly convinced that the only reason why Blaine transferred from Dalton to McKinley was to be with Kurt. And if Kurt broke his heart, he'd go back to Dalton. Sam missed the part where they became even shadier than Rachel when it came to the glee club, but at any rate he was not impressed. It took a few weeks for the whole thing to blow up in typical New Directions dramatics but blow up it did. And it was dramatic. When the whole truth was finally out, Sam dumped Mercedes and never looked back. And Blaine was still at McKinley. But things with New Directions would never be the same.

Sam snapped out of his thoughts as he realized the conversation was continuing around him. "You look like crap, Puck," Mercedes commented, realizing she wasn't going to get anywhere with any of the others. "Did you get any rest this weekend?"

Puck looked up from the spot on the table both he and Brittany were inexplicably staring at to glare at the two girls. "Would've gotten some sleep if you two hadn't kept messing with me all night."

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on. Your room is right next to mine. I kept hearing a chick's voice all night long saying… stuff."

"And you think that was us?" Quinn asked, skeptically. "You sure that it wasn't part of your crew over here?"

"They were upstairs," Puck retorted, darkly. "Besides it's exactly the type of petty crap you two would pull."

"Sorry to break it to you, Puckerman," Mercedes retorted. "But Q and I weren't in our room last night. So it wasn't us. Guess you were just hearing things." She snickered a little at the end of her statement.

"Oh great, so it's finally happened," Kurt's voice added to the rapidly unraveling scene. Sam, along with his entire table, looked up to face the soprano.

"What's finally happened?" Blaine asked his ex warily.

"Puck's gone completely insane. It's been coming," Kurt continued, smiling sadly. "The first step is admitting that you're nuts."

Sam narrowed his eyes. He had long been of the belief that Kurt's relationship with Karofsky had him under the impression that he was invincible. After all, if anyone even so much as looked at Kurt wrong, Dave was there to kick ass and take names. But seriously, enough was enough. Sam made a mental note to punch Dave in the face when they got back to school on Monday. He added the members of New Directions that laughed at the stupid comment to that list as well. He was certain that Santana would have no problem decking either Mercedes or Quinn. He had to stop her from doing so on a semi daily basis anyway. It wouldn't take much effort to get her to swing on them.

"I'm not hungry anymore," Puck said, suddenly pushing his breakfast away. He barely ate anything off the plate that Sam knew was only full because Rachel nagged him into filling it up. Sam frowned at the misery radiating off his best friend. "I'm going to just… yeah." He rose to his feet and was out the room before anyone could even react. Sam doubted that the others even heard them over their laughter.

"Sammy, go after him," Santana whispered in his ear.

"Why me?" Sam asked, already pushing himself away from the table.

He didn't know why he even bothered asking the question. He knew the answer. It was because that's just how they were. When they had emotional outbursts, it was their thing to go after one another. During the summer when Sam got frustrated (actually he was more confused) with the sudden intrusion of friends into his previously pretty lonely life, it was Puck who went after him and kept him company silently reassuring him that people truly cared about him. There was no way that Sam was going to deny his friend the same treatment.

"Just make sure that you don't kill anyone," Sam reminded her. She blinked innocently. "Seriously, we got Sectionals coming up soon. And I definitely don't want to rely on the underclassman B-squad to get us through actual competitions."

Santana's smile was practically feral and did little to reassure him that he wasn't going to come back and find bits of Finn, Kurt, Mercedes and Quinn lying around the room. He was strangely not bothered by the concept. He patted her on the arm in acceptance, and agreement, with whatever plan the girl would concoct before following in Puck's wake. He wasn't even out the door before he heard Santana's voice. He wasn't sure what she was saying, as the majority of it was in Spanish, but he'd learned enough during the summer to know that she definitely just insulted them. And possibly their future spouses and children. And their children's children. Let the record show that Santana Lopez was incredibly creative when she wanted to be.

Sam didn't need to see Puck to know where he was headed. It was one of those best friend things. Just like he didn't need to know that Puck knew he would follow after him. Neither teen looked surprised when Sam sank down next to Puck on the floor of the darkened hallway. Sam stretched his legs out and leaned into Puck's shoulder.

"I think he might be right," Puck admitted, laughing humorlessly. "I think I might be losing my mind."

"Ok, no. Kurt is not right. I mean, dude, Kurt is the same guy that dumped Blaine for Karofsky. Our smooth talking former Warbler Blaine for formerly psychopathic because he was in the closet Dave! I mean no offense to Dave because now that he's totally in touch with his gayness, he's actually pretty cool. But seriously how could you pick Dave over Blaine? How could you possibly take anything Kurt says seriously?"

Puck smiled briefly and a quiet laugh escaped his lips. "I don't take anything he says seriously. He's wearing a kilt in the middle of a blizzard. Even Rachel is wearing pants and she claims she's allergic to them. So I'm pretty sure life doesn't take Kurt seriously."

"So what's the problem?"

"The problem is that even without the bitchy princess' comments, I still feel like I'm going crazy. Ever since we got here… I can't… it's just that…."

"You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Puck shifted his gaze slowly towards Sam. "I know that we say that in theory but…."

"No theory," Sam assured him. "There's not a whole lot you could tell me that will make me stop being your friend. We're family now, remember?"

"You're going to think I'm nuts."

"You've met our friends, right? Brittany spent the majority of last night talking about how she wanted to catch a mutated spider and make it her friend so that he can help her fat ass cat feel better about his feline obesity. And I'm pretty sure that conversation ended with Blaine and Rachel agreeing to help her catch Mr. Creepers."

Puck snickered softly. "Britt is crazy in the loveable kind of way. I think I might be going crazy in the stay far, far away kind of way."

"How?"

"I've been hearing things," Puck finally admitted, looking down at his hands. "It started when we first got here. I was in the lobby and I kept hearing a voice telling me that I was worthless. And then I kept seeing things moving around in my room. The reason I was in the hallway last night was because I thought I saw…."

"Saw what?" Sam nudged him again.

"I thought I saw a chick in the mirror," he mumbled. "It freaked me out and I went outside. Then I went back in after we talked. I didn't see anything else but I kept hearing a voice saying the same things. That I'm worthless. That my friends don't care about me."

Sam leaned back against the wall, silently contemplating what Puck was saying. It did sound heavy. If he just took it at surface value then it would sound like his friend was losing grip with reality. But he believed in Puck too much. Even when Puck didn't believe in himself.

"Hey," Sam poked Puck's shoulder until finally he lifted his gaze to meet Sam's again. "I don't think you're crazy. I think you're really stressed out and sleep deprived. And it's not just the breakup with Lauren that's got you like this. You also got everything with school, with taking on more solos in glee, college, worrying about your mom, and just everything. You've been running in a million different directions since the summer and you haven't slowed down. You're stressed, bro. And exhausted."

"You really believe that?"

"I don't believe you're going nuts. But if you are," Sam shrugged. "We'll deal with it. Besides it might be fun having an insane best friend. At least it'll make sharing a room with you interesting next year."

Puck smiled a little more genuinely. "Anyone ever tell you that you're not right in the head?"

"Yeah, my little brother kindly informed me after I told him that I wasn't dating any of the girls we hang with. He told me that I was 'a total and complete fucking idiot'."

"Oh, so that's why he was hanging from that tree branch when I got there that afternoon."

"No, that was the day he told me that I was totally girly enough for Santana."

"I ever tell you that Stevie is kinda awesome?"

"Jerk." Sam grinned. "So, you're feeling better?"

"I'm feeling… ok. I still feel like I'm out of it. But I feel less like I'm going crazy at the moment."

"It's because I'm awesome isn't it?"

"Yes, Sam," Puck rolled his eyes. "It's because you're awesome."

"Well then you just need to stick with me this weekend. We'll ride this thing out and then when we get back to Lima we can make a plan for helping you deal with everything."

"Ok, but if Rach makes another goddamn pie chart, I'm breaking it over your head."

"Duly noted. Remind me to hide Rachel's poster board and markers."

"Santana already did. After Rachel made her that chart on the ways she can be less violent, Santana threw them in the dumpster behind the school. That was also after she threw Jacob in there for perving on Rachel again. The fact that she finds dumping Jacob in the garbage an acceptable answer to his pervy behaviors was the whole reason Rachel made the pie chart in the first place."

Sam laughed and stood up. "Let's go grab Blaine, Artie and Mike. We can totally have our guys' night here."

"But it's not night. It's actually the afternoon now."

"Shut up, ass. You know what I mean! We can have guys' afternoon then. Oh, dude, I know! Let's go for a walk."

Puck scoffed. "Goddamn Southerners. Always so amazed by the snow." Sam pouted playfully, earning a whack to the knee from his still seated friend. "Put that away before you suck up the world. I didn't say I wasn't going. I just think you're a big pansy that's all."

"I can live with that," Sam shrugged before holding his hand out to help Puck up. Once he was standing, Sam placed his hand on Puck's shoulder. "And next time, dude, just tell me what's going on. Remember there's nothing we can't pull off between the six of us. You guys decided I wasn't going to be homeless anymore and look."

"We did do that, didn't we?" Puck smiled smugly. "We're kind of kickass."

"Yeah, we are," Sam confirmed.

"No, Sam, we're kickass. You did nothing to contribute to that other than not be homeless."

Sam arched an eyebrow. "Isn't that enough?"

Puck shrugged with one shoulder. "I guess you're kick ass in a sort of passive way."

"Why do I put you with you again?"

Just as suddenly as the playful atmosphere appeared, it was gone bringing back the slump in his shoulders and a seemingly increasingly permanent frown. "I honestly don't know."

Sam frowned before slinging an arm around Puck's shoulders. "Good thing it was a rhetorical question then, huh? And the answer, genius, is that we're quite possibly the only two people in the world that can even semi contain the unholy cocktail of crazy that is Blaine, Rach and Satan."

"You forgot Britt. She has her moments too."

Sam snorted. "Yeah she does. Whose idea was it to let them be friends?"

"We didn't let them be friends. It was just a scary side effect of the whole 'Stop Sam from Being Homeless and Miserable' plan. So really this is your fault."

"I thought I did nothing to contribute to the plan."

"I've been known to be wrong before."

Sam laughed. No, it wasn't perfect. He could still feel the tension in Puck's shoulders as they walked back to the dining area. But his friend was making the effort at trying to get back to normal, which was more than he was offering before. Sam wasn't really worried because he knew that a few hours with the boys would work wonders at improving his mood. He shrugged off the nagging feeling of concern that had been twisting his stomach since the night before and walked into the dining area to find World War III.

If taken in without sound, the scene would've been almost comical. Blaine and Mike were trying to pin a struggling and visibly pissed Brittany down. She was seated on Artie's lap and he was also trying to hold her in place. Rachel was holding Santana's arm in an incredibly not safe loose grip as the Latina growled at the others in the room. Sam glanced over at the other side of the room to find Mercedes trying, and failing, to talk Kurt down while Quinn was hiding behind Finn. Sam wanted to laugh. He probably would've laughed if it hadn't been for the words that left Kurt's mouth next.

"I know you're all two steps away from moving together into some kind of hippie love commune but even you can see that there is reason for concern here!"

Brittany looked up at Rachel. "Make them let me go!"

"Not until you promise to stop attacking the ignorant." Brittany sat back in defeat. Rachel nodded. "Thought so. Look, there is no point in this conversation continuing any further. We're clearly not going to reach an understanding. So let's just agree to disagree and move on."

"If Puck is going crazy, don't you think that's something that we should tell Mr. Schue?" Finn asked, obviously confused.

"And what exactly are you going to say, Gigantor? That you think Puck's losing his mind because he's not sleeping?" Artie snapped around Brittany's shoulder. "That doesn't even make any sense."

"You're going to run to him with some half assed theory because the guy made a few comments when he's clearly sleep deprived and depressed," Mike added, with a scowl. "It's like you just want to believe that he's crazy."

"Seriously, if you just stop to think about it, this was all inevitable. It was most likely always going to end tragically for Puck," Kurt countered. "It was always going to be either crazy, shot by a jealous husband or a drug overdose."

"You forgot one," Puck pointed out. Everyone in the room was visibly startled, including Sam who was so caught up in the madness that he stupidly forgot the person at the center of the chaos. Puck was eerily calm. That was not good. He was also staring at Kurt expectantly.

Kurt clasped his hands together in front of him and straightened somewhat. Sam noticed that he didn't make eye contact as he finally realized Puck was waiting for a response. "What… what did we leave out?"

"Suicide," Puck replied, like he was talking about the weather. He was seemingly oblivious to the way everyone paled while he spoke. "Although I guess that could fall under crazy. But I don't think suicide is crazy. I think it just means you've had enough. Not crazy. Just tired of trying. I know that feeling well."

Quinn took a hesitant step away from Finn towards Puck. Her gaze flickering nervously between Puck and Brittany. But Brittany, like everyone else, only had eyes for the too calm Puck.

"Puck, you know we were just joking around, right?" she asked, trying to force a smile.

He shrugged. "You'll tell yourself that to help you sleep tonight but we all know you meant it. I have to say I'm surprised though, Kurt. I guess you forgot how much words really fucking hurt. Or maybe you just felt like I deserve it. Maybe I do for everything I used to do. Huh, something to think about, I suppose." He started to walk away but Sam caught him before he was fully out the room.

"Where are you going?"

"For a walk," Puck muttered. He started to pull his arm out of Sam's grip. "Alone. I just need to clear my head. I'll be fine. I promise."

Sam stared at Puck in silent contemplation. Every instinct in him said to keep Puck with him and not let him go. But he didn't want to be accused of smothering him either. Plus it was probably a good idea to get Puck away from the people determined to crush what little was left of his spirit. So finally Sam let go.

"You better be or I'm so letting Brittany sic Mr. Creepers on your ass." Puck rolled his eyes at the weak attempt at mothering before nodding. He sent out another promise and walked quickly out the room before Santana, Brittany or Rachel could protest him leaving. Sam noticed the slump of his shoulders as he left and was suddenly tempted to punch people in the face again. He whirled around to face the quartet that seemed to be ashamed. Or rather Finn was trying to step away from the horribly guilty looking Quinn and Kurt. Sam rolled his eyes. It so wasn't worth going there. He could go off on them but what would be the point. They knew what they did and all the yelling in the world wouldn't change that fact. So instead he turned to his friends.

"Did you talk to him?" Santana asked, picking up on the hint to back down from confrontation mode.

"Yeah," Sam sighed. "It's not good. It was hopeful for a bit but now I'm not too sure."

"Tina went with Mr. Schue to see if there are any working televisions that weren't manufactured sometime before Mr. Schue was born," Mike reported. "I got the DVD player in my bag and Artie bought some DVDs."

"A little excessively gratuitous violence and he should be back to normal," Artie assured with a smile. Sam grinned back hesitantly. He didn't think it was going to be that easy. Sam had an uneasy feeling in his stomach and he didn't know why. There was nothing overt to be concerned about. The others were being jerks, per the usual. Puck just went to clear his head. He'd be back later and everything would be fine. So why was his stomach twist in more knots than a pretzel at the moment?

"You guys know we didn't mean for him to hear that, right?" Quinn spoke up, dragging all attention back the quartet standing awkwardly on the sidelines. "Like, it was seriously just a joke. W really didn't think he would come back and hear it all."

"And that makes it better?" Brittany asked.

"I never wanted to hurt him like that," Kurt said, looking down at his shoes.

"Well you did," Rachel replied, coldly. "Congratulations, you're officially the bully now. I guess it feels great putting him in his place."

"Rachel," Santana held onto her hand. "It's not worth it. They're not worth it. Just remember, this is the last year we have to deal with this bullshit. Next year, we'll be in New York and this town and this drama will be just an unpleasant memory that we can all joke about when we're stumbling through the streets of Times Square drunk off our asses and running from hobos." Sam couldn't help but laugh at the irony of Santana talking Rachel down. Now he knew that this place was screwed up. Everything was completely backwards.

Tina and Will chose that moment to return to the room. It always amazed Sam how their teacher alternated between complete obliviousness and hyper vigilance. He took one look around the room and frowned. The usual air of obliviousness was gone and the older man was definitely concerned by the almost visible tension in the room.

"What happened?"

Sam exchanged looks with his friends. They reached a silent consensus that it wasn't in Puck's best interest for them to tell on the others, despite how good it would make them all feel.

"Nothing worth repeating, Mr. Schuester," Rachel replied with a bright smile. "Did you manage to locate a working television set?"

"Yeah," Will's eyes were flickering between them all. He clearly didn't believe that nothing happened. Sam could see him taking a mental inventory of their faces before he finally reached a conclusion "Where's Puck?"

"He went to take a nap in his room," Sam lied smoothly. "He was talking about feeling exhausted all morning. He hasn't been sleeping lately."

Will nodded. Sam felt the tension drain out as their teacher clearly believed that one. "I noticed. I was going to talk to him about that later. I was worried about him. Ok, well, let him sleep. You guys are free to do what you want for the rest of the day. There are televisions on the first and second floor. Ms. Meadows told me to inform you that dinner is at seven. So we'll meet up for that. I managed to call Ms. Pillsbury and she's getting through to your parents, so they won't worry. Try to make the best of this, guys." With that said, Will left the room again.

"Oh joy," Santana muttered. "I can't wait to see what culinary delight she comes up with next. Here's hoping there's Jell-O. Maybe we can use it to build a snow plow and tunnel our way out of this shit hole."

"I thought you were going to use your laser eye beams," Blaine snickered. She glared at him before flicking him on the bruise left behind by the oatmeal. Sam shook his head. He was totally asking for that one.

"Sam?" Brittany asked, grabbing onto Sam's sleeve. "Can you go find Puck now?"

"He said he's fine, Britt," he assured her.

Brittany blinked at him and he swore she was two steps away from breaking the sparkly eyes of doom out. "I know he said he was fine but I have a bad feeling. Can you go find him, please?"

Sam sighed. On one hand, he knew that Puck just needed some time alone. Everyone needed it every now and then, especially when you were friends with this crew. But on the other hand, this was Brittany they were talking about.

"You might as well just go," Rachel pointed out. "She's not going to leave you alone. I'm sure Noah will understand."

"Wait," Tina held up a hand. "I thought you said Puck was in his room. Why would Sam need to do his Finding Puck thing if he was there?"

"That was the Made for Schue edit," Artie replied, throwing a glare at Kurt. "The short answer is that some people in this room are assholes."

Tina huffed. "I always miss everything."

Mike patted her arm sympathetically. "Don't worry, T. I'm sure before this weekend is over, they'll end up saying something even worse than that."

"Better not," Santana replied darkly. Her hand strayed towards her hair which was swept up in a ponytail. Sam arched an eyebrow wondering if the girl really did keep razorblades in there. He also wondered if he should be concerned about that. But as he turned to leave the room, he figured that if she hadn't used them by now, it might be safe.

And if not… well, it's not like they didn't have it coming to them. With a deep sigh, Sam realized that his moral compass was beginning to inch ever so slightly towards the south. He really was spending way too much time with these guys. And he wasn't inclined to change that any time soon. He grinned and stuffed his hands in his pocket. Time to go do his 'Finding Puck' thing. Hopefully he hadn't gone too far and they'd make it back before Santana resorted to the razor blades. That should cheer Puck up. It was doing wonders for his mood already.


Sam cursed under his breath as he passed by the same tacky floral wallpaper he'd passed at least five times already. He was lost. He was actually lost in a place that only had three floors and was half the size of their school. He was grateful that the blizzard had knocked out their cell phone signals. He would never live this one down if he had to call for help. Although after spending nearly two hours wandering around, he was strongly leaning towards sucking up his pride and screaming for help. He didn't care who found him at this point. Hell, he'd even take Finn.

He turned another corner, hoping that it would at least take him to the stairs when he bumped into someone. A living, breathing human being. He was tempted to throw his arms around the first sign of human life he'd come across in an hour but it wasn't one of the gleeks or Mr. Schue and that would probably just be weird.

"Sorry!" Sam apologized. The older man in front of him laughed and waved off his apology. Sam found himself smiling in return. Ethan Meadows was the polar opposite of his mother in terms of looks. While his mother was fair-skinned with silvery blonde hair, Ethan had a tanner complexion with dark eyes. He reminded Sam a little of Puck. Santana claimed she felt positive vibes from the younger of the Meadows. Rachel hinted that Santana wanted to feel vibes of another sort. The conversation had predictably gone downhill from there.

"It's quite alright," Ethan assured him. "You're a long way from the television rooms."

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "I actually was looking for my friend. He said he was going for a walk but I can't seem to figure out where."

"Oh, the one with the Mohawk?"

"Yes. Have you seen him?"

"Sure. I found trying to get out to the courtyard a few hours ago but the doors are frosted shut right now. We tried to push through but we couldn't get out. So he said he was giving up and going to his room."

Sam blinked. Really? He just spent two hours wandering around that hellhole of an inn to find someone who was in his room. His room that Sam knew how to get back to? If he wasn't so relieved, he'd be pissed. No, on second thought he was pissed and he was relieved.

"Uh, Mr. Meadows?"

"Call me Ethan."

"Right, Ethan. When you saw my friend… how did he seem to you?"

Ethan pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Honestly, he seemed a little sad. I asked if he wanted to talk about it, but he said he'd be fine. Said his 'wife' would be by soon enough."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I hate him."

"Ah," Ethan grinned. "So you're the wife?"

"It's a joke," Sam blurted out. "We're not really together. He's just… Puck."

Ethan laughed. "It must be nice… having friends like that."

"It has its moments," Sam replied with a smirk. "Sometimes I want to strangle them but then other moments I'm just happy they're there. They really came through for me when I needed them the most. And I don't think I'll ever be able to repay them for that."

"I admit. I'm totally jealous."

"I guess it must be lonely out here, huh?"

"You have no idea," Ethan let out a sigh. "It's just that I grew up here. I got home schooling and I didn't even go away for college. Meeting people is difficult to say the least. And even when you think found someone that might want to stick it out. They end up leaving you too. But I can't leave my mom. She loves this place even though it's not exactly a five star joint. We can't really afford the upkeep because we can't bring in the customers. But she won't sell. And I won't leave her so….." He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. You didn't want to hear all that."

"I didn't mind," Sam shrugged. "Sometimes we all need someone to vent to."

"Thanks," Ethan nodded. He glanced at the clock. "Great. It's three. I better get started with dinner."

Sam paused. "You're the cook?"

"So you had mom's oatmeal, huh?" Ethan grinned. "During the week, we have more staff. But like I said, it's hard enough paying them during the week. On the weekends, it's just me and mom. We take turns cooking. She takes breakfast and lunch. I usually take dinner. I'm also the maintenance worker and the bookkeeper. "

"So you're basically running the place."

"Basically. If you're looking for your friend's room, I believe he's on the second floor. The staircase is down this hall and to the right."

Sam nodded in gratitude. He started to walk away when a thought occurred to him. "Uh, Ethan, I know you're like crazy busy but there's this cold spot in front of my friend's room."

"You know you're not the first person to mention that. It's weird because it's only right there too. I've checked it a thousand times but I can't find anything wrong. If your friend wants to move, he can feel free. There are plenty of empty rooms."

"I think he might take up you up on that. See you later, Ethan."

He heard the man shout a farewell over his shoulder as he set out to start dinner. Sam only hoped it was more edible than this morning's offering. He didn't think Santana needed anymore weapons. He sighed in relief as he finally found the stairs. Taking them two at a time, Sam bound up the stairs, eager to just get Puck and get back to the others. This little adventure took way more time than he thought.

As he was leaving the stair well, he felt a shiver run down his spine. It was actually colder this afternoon than it was the previous night. He really needed to get Puck to a warmer floor. Especially if he was going to be doing this fetching Puck thing every two hours. The closer Sam got to Puck's door, the colder it got. He pulled his hoodie over his knuckles as he knocked. There was no response. He turned to see if he spotted Puck down the hall but there was no sign of him. Besides Ethan said he was going to his room. Maybe he really was napping. Sam knocked again. There was still no response.

It was quiet, dangerously bordering on being too damn quiet for his liking. If it was one thing that he'd learned in the two years he'd known him, it was that Noah Puckerman wasn't quiet. He was always humming, or talking, or ranting about something. The point was that he was always making noise. But now it was quiet. Too quiet. Sam knocked on the door once more, trying to keep the anxiety that was feeling from showing. He pressed his eat against the door, straining and hoping to hear some sort of movement inside. But it remained eerily still.

"Dude, come on. It's just me." There was still no response. "Puck, open the damn door!"

He didn't want to admit to being worried earlier, but now that he was alone and not getting an answer, he was over that shit. He was actually very worried. Between the general weirdness that was Puck so far this weekend and the cluster-fuck of a scene earlier, Sam was beyond concerned. He started to raise his hand to knock again when he noticed that the door was slightly ajar. Cursing his own stupidity for failing to notice that before pounding on the door like a psycho, he pushed it open and stepped inside.

The feeling of wrong that drove him to follow after Puck only intensified as he stepped fully into the room. It was neat and orderly. Pretty much the total opposite of Puck. His best friend was a textbook example of pure organized chaos. Everywhere he went, Puck left some sort of sign he was there. Even the corner of the Evans' family motel room he claimed for the majority of the summer screamed that at some point Puck was there. But now… there was nothing. Brittany was right. There was something wrong here. And it was all about Puck.

"Puck? Dude, you in here?"

There was no response. The knots in his stomach continued to twist. He looked around the empty room and frowned. Puck's bag remained packed at the foot of the bed. The bed itself was clearly never slept in and was still neatly made.

"Puck? Where the hell are you?"

He was yelling now and he really didn't care. It wasn't as if anyone would notice. Santana and the others were most likely on the third floor as it was the closest to what they were claiming as their room. And if the others were still around, he could give two shits if he was disturbing them. They probably wouldn't care even if they did hear him. As he ran a hand through his hair, his eyes landed on the one place he hadn't thought to look yet. The bathroom door was closed shut.

"Dude, if you're just in here taking a shit or something, I swear I'm gonna…."

The words died on his lips as he stared in disbelief and horror at the sight that greeted hi when he opened the bathroom door. He finally found Puck and god how he wished he hadn't. Puck was slumped against the bathtub with the shower curtain wrapped around his throat. Tightly wrapped around his throat. And he wasn't moving. Puck was always moving but now… he wasn't. And there was a shower curtain wrapped around his goddamn throat.

"Puck?" Sam asked, in quiet disbelief. He didn't even blink as his legs gave out and he fell heavily against the cold tile floor. He felt bile rising in his throat as he stared at the lifeless form of his best friend. Several thoughts were competing for his attention but the only one he could grab hold of was: how the hell did we end up here?

They had plans. It was supposed to be New York or Bust. Their story was not supposed to end on some dingy inn floor in the middle of nowhere, Ohio. He shouldn't have let him go. He should've held onto Puck. Sam pushed his hair out of his face and tried to look anywhere but at his best friend. He didn't know what to do. He knew what he should do but he just couldn't force his body to comply. Puck was dead. Without thinking, he crawled across the small distance between them to lay a hand on his shoulder.

"You bastard," he hissed. "You promised me you'd be fine. This is not fine!" he shook his friend's shoulder. And then Puck's head shot up from its slumped position as far as it could attached to the shower curtain. Wheezing, gasping sounds filled the previous silence and echoed loudly in the small bathroom. His hands went weakly to his neck and Sam could see he was fighting against the shower curtain. Sam fell backwards in surprise. "Holy shit!"

He didn't bother to think about how this was possible. He was just going to shut up and be grateful that Puck wasn't dead. He tried to help him get the shower curtain off but it was seemingly growing tighter the more they both fought. Sam saw Puck's struggles grow weaker. He stepped back thinking. There was no way he was going to stand there and watch his best friend die. Not when he just got a second chance. His brain searched for a solution and then he remembered.

"I'll be right back," Sam promised Puck. "Just hold on and keep breathing."

Sam swore Puck rolled his eyes. He smirked as he ran out the bathroom to Puck's bag. With a silent apology to his friend, Sam dumped the contents of his backpack on the bed and rifled through it looking for the birthday gift Santana gave him a few months ago. And then he found it. The bright red case shined like the salvation he hoped it provided. He raced back in the bathroom to find that Puck was no longer fighting. He was conscious but barely.

"You do not get to die," Sam snapped at him even as he started hacking away at the thin plastic curtain. "I'm so not breaking my promise to Brittany. You better stay the fuck awake, Puckerman!"

It took several moments longer than he wanted but soon he managed to cut the curtain down. As soon as the blade sliced through disconnecting it from the shower rod, the makeshift noose around Puck's neck loosened and fell away. He took a deep breath that gradually turned into a coughing fit as he tried to get air back into his starved lungs. Sam didn't hesitate to drop to floor beside him and pull the shaking teen into his arms.

"It's ok," he whispered. He ran his hands over Puck's back, trying to encourage him to breathe normally. "Just take your time. You're ok. We're ok."

As the wheezing and gasps gave way to controlled and steady breathing, Sam found himself full on cradling Puck to his chest. He didn't give a shit how it looked. He was too damn close to losing his best friend. If he had hesitated a moment longer in going in the room. If had wandered around downstairs any longer. If he hadn't thought about the damn Swiss Army knife. All the what ifs played in his head and the only thing keeping him from breaking down and blubbering like a baby was the solid, warm, breathing proof that he didn't screw up currently in his arms. He set his chin on the top of Puck's head and breathed with his friend.

They sat together in silence for what seemed like hours. Sam should've known that Puck was just as shook up by this whole scene by the fact that he was letting him hug him. They were both secure enough in their own sexuality to not be bothered by the occasional casual touches that occurred between friends. But they didn't do hugs. Not with each other at least. Sure they were both known to spontaneously hug the girls, and even occasionally Blaine, but they just didn't do hugs with each other. Until the day that Sam found Puck being choked to death by a shower curtain. Then all bets were off.

Finally, after Puck's breathing was as steady as it was going to get having been strangled only minutes before, Sam loosened his grip on his friend. He helped straighten Puck up and leaned him back against the bathtub. Even in the crappy lighting in the bathroom, Sam could see the deep, angry bruises around his neck.

"Looks like you'll be rocking turtlenecks for awhile," Sam joked weakly. Puck's hand flew up to his neck but Sam knocked it away. "Just leave it. I'll get you some ice later." Puck nodded. Sam sighed and moved so that he was sitting in front of him. For some reason, he wanted to keep an eye on that leftover shower curtain. "You want to tell me what happened?"

"What… happened?" Puck croaked hesitantly. "I don't know."

"Why the hell don't you know?" Puck's eyes were darting around the room in confusion and Sam could see he was still shaky. But he wasn't letting him off the hook. He needed to know what happened. "What do you remember?"

"I remember… we talked. Then we went back…. and I left again. I walked around for awhile… the doors were shut. So I walked around some more. I asked Mr. Schue if I could get my guitar from the safe. I got it and I came back here. I was playing and then… I felt sad, Sam. I felt really sad and I came in here. And I sat down…. and I don't remember anything after that. I just remember you were here."

"So you don't remember trying to hang yourself from a fucking shower curtain?"

Puck's eyes grew wider with disbelief. Sam knew his friend well. This was not acting. He was genuinely shocked. He watched as Puck turned his head to the shower. "I didn't… that… I didn't do this! I swear, Sammy. I would never do that to you or my mom or the others."

Sam started to accept it before he caught something else in the tone. "Why did you say it like that?"

"Like what?"

"You said you wouldn't do that for us. But why not for yourself?"

"Whatever, Sam," Puck started to push himself off the floor. Fortunately, his body was clearly not listening to him any better than Sam's was before. Sam was able to grab him before he got all the way up and pulled him back to the floor.

"It's not whatever," Sam corrected. "And we are having this conversation right now. You owe me! Because even if we somehow forget about what the hell I just had to do to save your life, there's also the fact that I'm pretty sure I'm not going to sleep for weeks because I'm going to have that image stuck in my head. So, no, it's definitely not 'whatever'. Answer the question."

"You're not going to like the answer."

"I don't like a lot of things I know about. Doesn't change the fact that I need to know them."

Puck started to lean his head back but took a quick glance upward at the shower curtain and clearly decided against that one. He swallowed and Sam watched the bruised skin shift with the movement. He knew Puck was stalling. But that was fine.

"I… I've thought about it… before."

He was right. Sam didn't like the answer. But Sam was also right because he did need to know this. "Why?"

Puck raised an eyebrow. "Why not? And it's not just Lauren. It's… my life."

Sam nodded slowly. Puck didn't need to elaborate on that one. He knew the details of the life of Noah Puckerman. He knew the things he'd done to make sure his family had money. The deep sense of guilt he felt for his bullying of people that were now his closest friends. The pain he carried around about the daughter he'd never know. Sam knew all these things and he kicked himself every day for never considering that his friend might be cracking slowly.

"Why haven't you… before?"

"You might like that answer," Puck smiled a little. "You guys. You, my ma, my sis, Rach, San, Britt, Blaine… Beth. You guys keep me here."

There was so much more he wanted to ask. So much more he needed to know but he knew that it wouldn't be happening today. He just had one more question for him and then he would put this to rest… for now.

"This… you swear it wasn't you?"

"I swear. I wouldn't… definitely not here. I don't want to die here."

Sam laughed shakily and nodded. He felt tears welling in his eyes and he didn't try to hide it from Puck. Mostly because the other teen was on the verge of crying too. Sam mustered a weak grin. "Come on, we're going to repack your shit and you're moving upstairs to our room."

"Our room?"

"Hell, they already moved in, you might as well too," Sam said, helping Puck off the floor. They slowly made their way back into the bedroom. "At least if you're with me, I don't have to keep going off to find you." He heard Puck take a breath. "And you better not apologize for that. If the situation were reversed, would you come looking for me?"

"Of course."

"Then shut up and repack your crap," Sam ordered, halfheartedly. Puck frowned at the mess on his bed. "Don't start. I was in a hurry. I wasn't exactly thinking of neatly unpacking it neatly when you were choking to death."

Puck flinched before setting about repacking his stuff. Sam made a mental note to not mention the choking thing around Puck. He got the feeling that he wasn't going to be the only one that was having nightmares tonight. Sam busied himself trying to find any stray items that might've flown out of the bag in his wild search for the knife. He let out a deep breath as he spotted a guitar pick underneath the dresser. He paused though as he saw his breath hanging in the air. The room was even colder than when he barged in earlier.

"Puck?"

"Yeah?"

"Let's get out of here."

"I'm almost done."

"No, you're done now. We'll come back for anything else later. Let's just go."

He felt like they were being watched. He told himself that he was just imaging things. He was stressed out. His best friend almost died in front of him. That was cause for a mental breakdown, right? Or maybe crazy was contagious and he and Puck were finally succumbing to the same madness that plagued Santana and Brittany. Whatever it was, he wanted out of that room. He reached over, took Puck's bag, shoved his guitar back in the case and handed it to Puck before grabbing Puck's hand and dragging him out the room.

He didn't let go even when they reached Sam's room. Both boys were panting from the effort of practically running up the stairs while Sam was searching for his room key. He didn't need to worry about that as the door swung open startling them. Blaine cocked his head to the side and stared at them.

"Where the hell have you been?"

"How the hell did you get in my room?"

"Santana stole the extra key from downstairs," Blaine shrugged, stepping back to let them in the room. As Puck passed him, Blaine's eyes locked on his throat. Sam caught the question that was about to come out and shook his head. Blaine nodded reluctantly.

Santana sat up from her previously reclined position on the bed between Rachel and Brittany. "It seriously took you two and a half hours to find Puck…. what's wrong?"

Sam would never understand how she could take one look at them and just know. Then again, Puck was sporting the nastiest bruise around his neck that any of them had ever seen. And he was about three shades paler than normal. That might have been a dead giveaway. That and the fact that Sam was still holding his hand. And Puck was holding his just as tightly.

The three girls were up in a flash and ushering the still shaky Puck to the bed. Rachel and Brittany sat with him sandwiched securely between them. Blaine pushed the armchair over closer to the bed and guided Sam to that seat. Santana perched on the edge of the chair while Blaine sat down on the floor where he could clearly see all of them.

"What happened?"

Puck opened his mouth but closed it a few silent moments later. His eyes met Sam's. And while Sam wasn't exactly terribly eager to recap the last few minutes, he had a feeling if he didn't, then the story was not going to be told. And he also got the feeling that was not an option. So he started from their conversation in the hallway earlier that morning and finished with his epic battle against the shower curtain.

For once his genius friends didn't have anything to say. And he didn't blame them. He could practically see the gears working in Rachel's head. She was trying to make this make sense but it didn't. There was no way this worked out to them being able to move past this. Everything changed today and they all knew it.

"I'm going to go get some ice," Blaine announced, standing. "Puck, maybe you should lie down for awhile. Mr. Schue wants us to have dinner together. I don't think he's going to accept that you're still napping."

Puck nodded but a moment of hesitation flickered in his eyes. Brittany put her arms around his shoulders. "You don't have to worry. Me and Rachel are here to protect you!"

"That makes me more worried," Puck admitted with a tiny smile. He let out a deep yawn and blinked sleepily. "Maybe I could use a nap."

Sam watched as he lay back on the bed with Rachel curled up beside him and Brittany sitting at the foot of the bed watching them both. Puck was completely unaware of their positions as he was knocked out as soon as his head hit the pillow. Brittany pulled out her iPod and was quietly bopping her head to the music. Blaine returned with the promised ice and sat down beside Brittany on the bed. Wordlessly, she handed him one of ear buds which he accepted. He picked up a notebook and was busy writing songs while listening to whatever song Brittany was most likely choreographing in her head.

In other words, it was all normal. The crisis was averted… for now. So why was Sam still shaking? He felt a small hand slip into his. The tremors calmed slowly as Santana just sat on the edge of the seat holding his hand. Sam watched his friends and felt himself calming down. He squeezed Santana's hand gratefully.

"Thanks."

"It's what I'm here for," she shrugged. "Sam, do you believe him?"

"I want to," Sam said. "I really do. I believe that we all mean a lot to him. But I don't know… he's thought about it in the past."

"I know."

"Wait, you know?"

Santana scoffed. "I've known Puck for like eight years now. He and I are running a competition for which of us has the most fucked up life. He's at least ten points ahead of me. And up until last year, he didn't have a best friend who would support him. I've always had Britt. For better or for worse, I've got Britt."

Sam looked at the peacefully sleeping figure on the bed. He was shifting in his sleep like he normally did. He wasn't still. Which was good because Sam didn't think he could ever get that image out of his mind.

"If he didn't do this to himself… then who did?"

Sam tore his eyes away from Puck to look up at Santana. "That's the million dollar question."

"Look I know that Hudson, Hummel, et all, can be a nuisance but homicide? I don't think any of them have what it takes to try to kill someone, much less Puck."

"I don't know but he doesn't go anywhere alone," Sam said, resolutely. "He's with us. And more importantly, I don't care about Sectionals or even Nationals. He's out of the glee when we get back."

"Look at Sammy taking charge," Santana smirked, running her free hand through his hair. "Did I ever tell you that is such a turn on?"

"Yeah," Sam smirked, rolling his eyes. "And so is chocolate, air, breathing… there isn't much that doesn't turn you on, San."

She tilted her head to the side in thought. "You're right. What can I say? I'm in touch with my sexuality."

"And you want to be in touch with everyone else's."

"Being a hero makes you sassy. I approve."

"Yeah, let's see if you feel the same way after this weekend is over. Something tells me I'm going to be busy."

"He is a trouble magnet, isn't he?"

"Looking after him is starting to be a full time job. And can I just say that the benefits on this job suck? I should really look into starting a union for this. Especially since this job is a lot harder than I thought it'd be."

Santana laughed quietly. "Maybe we could put a tracker on him to make it easier for you. That way we'd always know where he was."

"It's the not where that causes the problems. It's the everyone else around him."

"Then we give him a taser," Santana replied as if giving Puck a taser would actually solve problems instead of creating a whole new set of epically horrible problems.

Before Sam could negate that one, Brittany and Blaine were both looking in their direction. "If Puck gets a taser, we get one too."

Sam shook his head even while pointing out the many reasons why none of them (Rachel included) should ever be allowed to even look in the general direction of a store that could possibly be selling tasers. It wasn't until much later that he realized that the tremors were completely gone and he was breathing a lot easier. His friends were kind of awesome.


*So I chose to end it on a happy note. I was tempted to end it before Sam met up with Ethan but that just seemed really pointless, lol. So I continued and let you all know that Puck is not dead. That doesn't mean that it's over though. The real fun is just about to start.