A/N: I've been so crazy busy (arrrghh). But here's the next installment...if there are mistakes that i've missed (i'm sorry!) And thank you everyone for reading and commenting and reviewing! You make everything better :)

PART TWO: JUNE OF 1994

CHAPTER TEN:

THE DEPARTED AND THE BEAST

1

Sometimes…the bodies aren't found. In Lima, things have a tendency to simply disappear.

2

From Fox News 8, May 8th, 1993 (this is a recording; as seen on television):

This is Miranda Hawthorne of Fox News Now, and as you can see I am standing at the current scene of the crime – a story that has wracked our small town with sadness and grief [Camera cut to a quaint yellow house surrounded by a rusting wire fence. A baseball bat and an old mitt sit abandoned in the lawn.]. This is the home of ten-year-old Fiona Jay. She was exuberant and full of life in her youth, always smiling as we remember her. But today, the town of Lima holds its heads in sorrow and grief, because that girl has gone missing. [Images of Fiona's latest school pictures cover the screen. She is seen smiling, with a wide grin and freckled cheeks.] Her mother, Linda was unavailable for comment tonight, but we ask that you all stay alert and aware. Bring Fiona Jay home to her parents safely. I'm Miranda Hawthorne of Fox News…back to you Nathan. [Cut.]

What a terribly sad story, isn't that right Erica? Thank you Miranda - More developments from that story later tonight at 10pm. I'm Nathan Turner, this is Fox News… stay tuned… [fade to commercial.]

From The Lima Chronicle, June 12th, 1993 (page 3):

COURT ISSUES SEARCH WARRANT:

THE FIONA JAY DISAPPEARANCE

A new shocker has been uncovered in the story of Fiona Jay. The missing ten-year-old Lima Elementary student who has yet to be found. As the days have progressed into weeks and months since her initial disappearance, a once minor case has transformed into what is now an active trial. In a latent twist, Police Chief Rowley has been issued a warrant via District Judge Flynn Harrison effective this weekend – primarily for the search of the Jay household and it's surroundings (which houses Jay's mother Linda, 42, her father Robert, 47, and her two younger brothers, 5 and 8 respectively). And while what has been uncovered during said warrant is classified and documented – it stands to record, that something has undoubtedly been found.

From The Columbus Gazette, June 15th, 1993 (page 2):

THINGS HEAT UP IN FIONA JAY CASE:

WARRANT CAUSE FOR FAMILY ARREST

Dexter Jay, uncle to the missing Fiona Jay (From Lima, OH) has been arrested early this Tuesday morning in relevance to the Fiona Jay missing person's case. While reasons for the arrest are unclear, it has been reported that an earlier search warrant issued by Lima District Judge Flynn Harrison is a precursor for said recent events. It stands to be noted, that while Dexter Jay (42, with a previous record of mild arson, and a misdemeanor assault charge) is in custody, the whereabouts of Fiona are still under supreme investigation… (Continued on page 5).

3

If Fiona Jay were alive to tell you how this entire story would eventually play out…she would. But she isn't alive…not really. And if you had asked her two months ago, about a lingering familiar clown, with orange pom pom buttons and wide teeth – her eyes would have widened, and she would have led you to the playground on Jude Road, where the swings blow without need for a breeze - That playground, where even the cats are afraid to loiter for too long.

It all began with a lost soccer ball, you see. Kicked over the Jays' backyard fence by a pair of rambunctious twin siblings – their smiles fading once they've realized exactly what lies beyond that fence… things unseen, and things unheard…but things nonetheless. Over in that playground. It takes Fiona only a second to clear their minds of the perils that tend to befall lost soccer balls once defeated by the obstacles of petty fences and abandoned sandboxes. She rolls her eyes once.

"This is the last time I'm getting your stupid soccer ball." They nod feverishly, as they watch their older sister climb over their rickety wooden fence, falling down on the opposite side – to earthen concrete, and tanbark relatively un-marked. The sun begins to set in the west, just over the emptiness of the lot, the pair of toddler swings sways there…without the aid of a breeze. And once over, Fiona scans her surroundings. Taking note of the overgrown weeds, the yellowed grass. She sees a dejected looking hare wander under some darkened underbrush, and she almost thinks she sees a flash in those quick yellow eyes; Something dark, and vengeful…something altogether un-mammalian in nature. She should forget about her brothers' stupid soccer ball, because by the way her hair is rising on her arms…she has a feeling that she shouldn't stay here for very much longer. One more second, a change of the wind, and maybe…she isn't quite as alone as she'd like to think.

"Hello there!" Fiona jumps, clutching at her sides as she turns – the foreign voice hitting tiny particles of hydrogen and oxygen along the way to her frightened eardrums. She's face to face with a boy she's never seen, and a smile she's never met. His hair is dark – almost jet-black in the setting sun. And his skin is deathly pale. He extends a long hand for Fiona to shake – she reluctantly meets him, skin for skin. And she shudders on contact, instantly regretting her sudden predicament.

"Who are you?" The boy laughs, and as his mouth opens, Fiona gets a glimpse at his teeth, all rotted and falling away, yellowed with much more than time – he looks no older than thirteen.

"Timmy." He laughs.

"Timmy…Timmy, who? I've never seen you around before. Did you just move here?" She doesn't know why she's asking so many questions, but she can't stop the verbal deluge. She looks down to see that the boy named Timmy is still holding onto her outstretched hand, she hesitantly tries to retract it from his grip. His fingers tighten.

"You could say that, Fiona." And Fiona tries to pull her hand away again, more subtly this time – but she feels him yank back – and now it almost hurts. And in a sudden wide-eyed realization, Fiona realizes that she never gave this boy her name.

"Why do you know my name?" She whispers - Her eyes wide, and her skin prickling. She watches his grin transform into something not quite natural for a boy his age, and she suddenly feels like there isn't enough space in the world between the two of them. She feels like running…she feels like sprinting away and back over her fence as fast as her feet can take her. But he's still holding on. And this time, as he leans in closely to ghost his lips to her ear – she smells him for the first time. All rot, and decayed leaves, and dismay. He smells like this playground – diseased.

"He knows everything."

And as those words ripple from his cracked lips, she sees it, swaying behind him – looking at her from beneath the underbrush behind the sandlot. That hare. Those yellow eyes beam at her, and she can hear it's soft thudding footfalls as its hind legs propel it forward unnaturally, through tall weeds. The hand clutching at her fingers tightens to the point where her fingers whiten and crack – she would be screaming if her voice weren't so hopelessly lost.

"I think he wants to meet you Fiona, he wants to meet you so badly." Timmy smiles, his breath rank and pruned. She looks everywhere, her green eyes scanning the empty playground, and when she sees her feet…there's that hare. Standing on its hind legs right beside her ankle. From here she can see it clearly – all matted fur, and dried blood and scabs. Yellowed eyes and emaciated form, beyond its vile body lies the soccer ball she had climbed over to retrieve – mockingly out of reach. But before she can say anything to change her situation, a cold wind settles within her bones – and like the shift of a current of electricity she feels sharp fangs pierce the skin of her calf, and rotted teeth clench at the base of her throat. Her screams are piercing in the setting sun, and just as they rip from her throat, a strong pale hand reaches up and squeezes, sealing her windpipe in a bruise. And she's left to silently stare into the cold red eyes of a boy who really isn't a boy at all - her airway crushed. It's like drowning, this slow death – and she feels the air seeping into the fuzzy spaces of her brain. Somewhere down below, a hare continues to rip at her limbs – devouring her skin as the world fades away.

"Oh yes, he'd like to meet you very much." And with a gurgle and an indecipherable whine, those green eyes close and cut off, just as the boy holding her up and suffocating her begins to ripple with the metamorphic seedlings of physical change. The dirt on his shirt fading slowly to orange pom poms and clown jumpsuits – the unnatural laugh of something in-human as her body is eaten away. Eat, it growls, and Fiona falls back into the fading elements of her mind…never to return.

4

It feels like a deep rip in his chest, that feeling of dread that suddenly settles him. It's unnerving, and unnatural, but Sam Evans can't help but feel a little bit closer to death in that small moment just over a year ago - at the fall of dusk.

"Honey, eat your green beans." Renee Evans scolds sharply in between attempting to airplane mushy carrots into the mouth of her ten-month-old son, Oliver. Sam blinks once and gulps, the pattering of his heart deep and un-rhythmic as his eyes widen.

"Sam…listen to your mother." And with a small shake of his blonde hair, he nods quietly, not even in the least bit bothered by the small act of teasing aimed at him from his five-year-old sister when she sticks her tongue out at him. He simply turns back to his plate in silence, a fear rippling through his body as the green beans disappear slowly from his plate. It feels like something settling within him, something dark and foreboding. He looks out of the kitchen window once more at the setting sun and sees a flash of fur – flashes, of fur. And with the tilt of his gaze he sees them…hundreds of them – sitting on their haunches in the back yard through the window. Wild hares, all of them with yellow eyes and fraying coats. All of them staring at him through the window – he drops his fork and it falls with a clatter to the ground. Allison Evans stops blowing raspberries and screams, her gaze settled just over Sam's shoulder. And almost as if that scream were a battle cry, the first hare springs for the window, teeth bared. Sam watches in horror as it clangs head first into the glass, a small trail of blood where cranium hits horridly. Sam flinches, and suddenly Oliver is absolutely wailing, his small eyes wide as he too looks toward the window.

"Allison, what's the matter honey?"

"Sam, what's wrong with you? Pick up your fork."

"Shhhh, Ollie, sweetie it's okay. It's just carrots. Come on, open up for mommy." Renee Evans is in a panic as she stares between her three children – David Evans is furious because Samuel should know better than to behave this way at the dinner table. He turns and looks out of the window, all of his children's gazes petrified as they stare – and all there is to see is a freshly mowed lawn and Allison's abandoned tricycle by the hedges.

"Is this a joke? Sam, what on earth are you staring at?"

The wild rabbits are catapulting themselves at the window in droves, all bloody fangs and blood smears against the glass. He can see their yellow eyes in the approaching moonlight, and that fear is real as his heart sputters. He can feel Allison screaming and wailing next to him, he grabs her hand and pulls her close to his body – her head burying into the crook of his side. Her head shaking back and forth as she begins to hyperventilate.

"Okay, dinner is over! But don't think that any of you are done, once your hungry, your leftovers will be waiting for you. There are children starving! To your rooms." And the escape doesn't come soon enough as Sam practically runs from the table, Allison clinging to him like a second skin. They bound up the stairs and into the closet of his bedroom to hide amongst his action figures and car wheels collection. He can still hear their small bodies thudding against the glass. Pang, Clank, Boom. After an hour, the noises ebb just like the faint receding of Popcorn when you put it in the microwave. After a few more seconds the noises stop altogether.

"Do you think they're gone, Sammie?" This is the first they've spoken since hiding after dinner, and it somehow makes him feel even less crazy to know that he wasn't the only one who saw them. He's 95% sure that Ollie did too, but not much could be done about the infant while being consoled by their mother in his high chair. Sam gulps, neither replying nor denying as he eases the door of his closet open steadily. The darkness of night creeps in, and he hits the light of his bedroom immediately – he heads for the window and looks down into the backyard below, at an empty lawn. Things look unchanged, as if what they'd seen had never happened, and Sam's mouth falls open in disbelief. He runs down the stairs to the protest of his little sister and slides on his sock covered feet back into the kitchen. And there it is, the window – the sliding glass door to the backyard – covered in blood and dirt streaks, small patches of fur. And sitting just beyond the window in plain site, a small bouquet of red and purple balloons. He walks toward the window, his shoulders trembling, and just through the glass – the visible parts at least – he can read the lettering printed on them, mocking him in the darkness of night.

EAT YOUR GREEN BEANS SAMMIE BOY!

And just like that, Sam bolts. There isn't much to be said of the entire affair, but it's no wonder him and his baby sister and brother never set foot into that backyard again – the window lay untouched and bloody for almost a week before David Evans cleaned it after a bird had shit on it as he worked on the yard – how his parents had never seen it, Sam would never surmise. And like most things for young children, events like this went buried and un-thought of for quite a long time. Almost a year exactly in the case of Samuel Evans, and he was sure that this time…this summer – there would be much more at stake than a bouquet of threatening balloons.

5

Sitting beneath a large batman and robin bed sheet in the middle of the floor is a lot more fun than it sounds in theory. Especially when it's a fort, and you're joined by your best friends who've happened to steal copies of their dad's and cousin's copies of Penthouse and Hustler. Sam stares between the centerfolds of magazines spread out before him, reading the names of the naked women who bare themselves with wide, sultry smiles. Cindy, Christy, Felicity, Sasha. He turns pages looking at the photographic angles, and the spray tanned bodies calculatingly – sure he's intrigued by the boobs, but there's so much more here to appreciate as the flashlight in his hands blinks.

"Dude, why are you just flipping pages, you're supposed to stop and actually look at the pictures." Sam shrugs his shoulders at his friend Puck and stops flipping, concentrating at looking at all of the taut, lean bodies.

"How much money do you think they make doing stuff like this?" He asks thoughtfully as he starts reading one of the small blurbs about the girls in the photographs.

"Who thinks about that crap when there are naked girls to look at?"

"I dunno Sam, but yea…what Puck said."

Sam's cheeks color as he quiets, he knows that Noah Puckerman is just a perve-monkey and that he can't help it, but he was hoping that maybe Finn would see thought to his question. He just shrugs his shoulders and hits his flashlight against the carpet to get it shinning again in the semi-darkness. And like most things with the three of them, conversation falls off as they stare and whistle at the pages and pages of naked women spread out before them, all over a giant bag of Hot Cheetos and cans of Diet Coke. Sam pretends to stay invested, but something about naked magazines like this gives him a weird vibe – he can't help it that they all seem so fake. It's not his fault that he can't not see Tasha on the page and not wonder about who she really is, or how she got into a centerfold spread of Playboy to begin with.

"Doesn't she kinda look like Mrs. Howell?" Finn suggests as he points his flashlight at the photo of an auburn woman with dusty nipples, sitting down on a bed with a letterman jacket on, and black sultry glasses. Sam looks over and laughs, because Finn definitely has a point there and Noah whistles over a mouth full of Jolly Ranchers. Sam won't say anything, but he hates the fact that Noah eats all of the Green and Pink ones, only leaving Cherry, Grape, and Lemon in the bag – so he doesn't try to think about it too much.

"Mrs. Howell is a total babe. It takes a man to be able to see that kinda hot-ness at our age." Puck smirks and hits his chest like a gorilla while Finn laughs.

"Who else is Puck hot worthy at school then, since you would know?" Sam chides, digging his hands into the bag of Hot Cheetos laying between them.

"Mrs. Reeve the front office lady. She has really big boobies." Finn laughs through a swallow of Diet Coke, almost spraying them all through his nose.

"Gina Nolan, that girl that got held back in the fourth grade, she started showing through her shirt since she's like almost twelve now. But she's hot too."

"Showing through her shirt?" Sam asks, dumbfounded as he munches, he would feel stupid for having to ask in the first place, but Finn looks equally confused as they look to Noah for answers.

"Good grief, men! This is science! You know, girls pretty soon'll start growing tits, and they pop out all of a sudden, like they wake up with them after the summer time, that's what my cousin Wes told me anyway. And then they get all girly, and start thinking they're the shit for a little while because they have tits…you know, but then they like bleed and shit or something – like vampires."

"You're lying, Puckerman." Sam says as he hits Noah over the head with a rolled up copy of Penthouse.

"Nuh Uh! No way! The Puckasaurus speaks the truth, men. Like, look it up. They grow tits, and then get all crazy, and then they like bleed…for months."

"Gross." Finn scrunches up his face in disgust.

"Yea, they'll still be hot though… and they'll have boobs." Finn nods his head, acquiescing to Noah's statement thoughtfully. A minute or so passes before he opens his mouth again to speak. "So…like…all the girls from class and stuff. That stuff'll happen to them too?" Noah smiles predatorily as he shuts the copies of magazines in front of them closed with a smirk on his face. "Wouldn't you like to know, Hudson?" Finn blushes a deep read and shakes his head from side to side. Noah runs a hand through his hair before leveling the other two evenly with a grin.

"Like I said, all the girls at school…boobies. Total babes in like a year or two." Finn clears his throat, nodding while Sam stares thoughtfully at the shadows of light casted on their fort made of bed sheets and desk chairs. It feels good, to have his friends over like this – he knows that someday in the future he'll miss it, but that seems like forever away right now.

"Like, Amanda Keeler – that girl from your class, she'll probably be smokin' and rich. Or like…Fabray, Lopez and Brittany? All three of them are gonna be total jailbait, watch."

"Puck, you can't just talk about them like that…isn't it kinda mean?"

"No way Evans! It's a compliment. Plus we were hanging out with all of them today, and so they're like fresh in my head. Santana Lopez is kinda murderer creepy, but if you get past it, it's pretty epic. And Fabray is way too serious all the time, but her mom is hot whenever I see her around town, so…it's like, gonna happen."

"Wait…you were hanging out with a bunch of girls today?" Sam jokes.

"Finn was there, fuck-sludge!" Sam laughs anyway.

"Can it - it was like me…the three of them, and some other people showed up later. Rachel Berry, Kurt something, and that girl Mercedes."

"What where you guys all doing, hanging out?"

"Bullshit stuff, we're helping the girls build a fort out in the back woods past the city limits. But I think after today we might do something else, Karofsky showed up. He scared the shit out of Berry." Sam nods his head, looking down at his flashlight curiously. The silence engulfs them all again in the night as they partake in their Diet Cokes and candy. Finn is the one who eventually breaks the silence. "What are you doing tomorrow anyway?" Sam shrugs.

"Nothing."

"You should hang out with us, we're hanging out somewhere different, but I'm biking over with Puck to wherever, you should come."

"Hell yea, I agree. It's just me and Finn and a bunch of girls, Hummel doesn't count because he can't even help out with tools and stuff – and he hates Hot Wheels." Sam thinks it over, shadowy light falling across his shaggy blonde bangs. He shrugs his shoulder quietly as they wait for an answer.

"Sure, why not."

"Fuck yea, Sammie-boy!" Noah cheers, and unbeknownst to Samuel Evans, that name causes a deep shuddering all the way down to his bones, and he has ne inclination as to why – but he can't help the way his hair rises on his arms, or the way his teeth clench tightly together in the night. And not for the first time, as he flashes a light between the three of them … does he feel an overwhelming sense of foreboding.

6

Sam grabs for his Huffy out of the garage as he stuffs the last bit of a Blueberry Pop Tart into his mouth. He can hear his mother washing dishes in the kitchen, and his father mowing the law as he takes off down the cement driveway and out onto Sequoia Road. He pedals quickly, with his body up and leaning over the handlebars as he pumps his sneakers. He can feel the cuffs of his blue jeans scraping occasionally against the chain of his bike as he zooms down third, cutting a left at Hawthorne.

"Slow down!" Someone yells to him as he passes through an intersection. He doesn't listen or care as he zooms forward through early Saturday risers and shoppers in the small strip downtown. He finds himself coming to stop once he finally reaches Yellory Road and the old Softball Field there, he hops off of his bike when he sees Finn and Puck leaning against the old worn fence of the batting pen, tossing a baseball back and forth. He runs up, his blue t-shirt billowing out behind him as he gains a bit of momentum.

"Hey guys!"

Finn and Puck nod, Puck passing a quick toss to Sam as he reaches them. "I though we were meeting at Finn's house?" Noah shrugs, pointing just past Sam's head. He turns around to see the approaching bodies of three girls, all of them pulling up the Softball field on bikes, the girl he knows as Brittany rides up in a pair of baby blue rollerblades.

"We saw them on the way over, and they just said to come here." Sam nods as he watches the group of girls approach. Santana Lopez on a red Mongoose, wearing denim shorts and a button up collared shirt pushed up at the sleeves and hanging loosely over her small frame. Quinn Fabray, in a pair of seersucker shorts and tiny Top Siders – her blonde hair in a loose ponytail as she pulls up on a light purple Diamondback with a basket hanging in the back. And Brittany Pierce in girls basketball shorts and Adidas, a baseball cap sitting over her long blonde hair, pulled to the back. The gravel crunches loudly beneath the weight of their bodies as they descend and pull out their kickstands. As they approach, he realizes almost instantly why he'll never be friends with Santana Lopez.

"Who's the loser kid, Puckerman?" He watches Quinn, she doesn't say anything as she saddles up to the group, her hands in her small pockets.

"My name is Sam."

"Did I ask you? No, so shut up." Finn grimaces, and Noah smirks. Sam narrows his eyes as he glares at her, his lips turning into a hard line.

"San, cool it." It's the blonde, Quinn – she looks uninterested as she stares around at the empty soccer field, but Sam doesn't miss the finality to her tone. And he realizes now that although Quinn is standing just off to the side and to the back, that she is the leader of this small trifecta – Santana simply the force. He has a weird respect for Quinn Fabray in this instant, even though he still isn't quite sure as to why.

"But look at him! He lo –"

"Santana, shut up." And just like that, the dark haired brunette is falling back to follow Brittany over to a small hedge of flowers and dandelions, a terrible scowl framing her face. Sam looks between the three of them, finally settling once again on Quinn Fabray, who is now directly in front of him, hands still rested primly in pockets. Woah…she's beautiful.

"Sam?" She queries.

"Yep."

"Evans? From Mr. Williams' class?"

"Yea, that's me…Fabray, right?" Quinn nods her head; her side bangs falling around her face softly.

"Yes…Quinn."

"Cool."

"Cool." The air around them grows silent, and suddenly Sam feels himself getting awkward as he kicks rocks around with one of his feet. From behind him Noah and Finn throw sticks at the wire fencing, voicing his own impatience.

"What are we waiting for anyway?" Noah asks no one in particular.

"Kurt, Mercedes, and Rachel – they're showing us a new spot."

And almost like on cue, they all hear the soft hum of a car pulling into the abandoned parking lot of the feet. Rubber wheels squelch on gravel as the car comes to a halt, and the back doors open slowly. From inside, fall out Rachel Berry, Kurt Hummel, and Mercedes Jones – all sporting smoothies in their hands. Rachel in the back, waves at her father through the window before turning to catch up, in her other hand she holds a cardboard container with six more smoothies and plastic straws.

"Sorry we're late, my father however was remiss to allow us to walk all the way here. And then he suggested an early afternoon snack of smoothies, and well…none of us could really turn that down." She rambles on, as she quickly removes smoothies from the holster, walking to each one of them and handing them out like flyers. Sam knows he'll be left out of course, he's the token extra wheel in this troupe, but when Rachel approaches him and shyly hands him a smoothie, he can't help the smile that creeps up onto his face.

"Hey…thanks a lot."

"Of course, I had a feeling we would be needing an extra, and well – I like to always come prepared for any situation." Sam watches her lips move over large words and sounds. He decides to concentrate instead on her long brown hair, and he notices her skirt, and sandals. She has on a t-shirt that says "I Love, Lucy" and he thinks he's seen that show before on Nick- -Nite maybe. She's a little eccentric, he's positive, but something about Rachel Berry just exudes warmth. He thinks that it's something they'll all need sooner rather than later. He watches her move around them nervously handing out smoothies in the warm early afternoon. He sees her shakily hand one to Santana Lopez, he watches a color creep up into her cheeks as she in turn hands one to Quinn Fabray. And he notices as they all stand around sipping on the fruity concoctions, that Rachel has planted herself in the grass off by the softball pitch to sit with Quinn in the warmth of the sun – and he finds, that he rather likes this band of misfits.

7

They end up on the other side of town, behind the old abandoned library in the fire district. The streets are empty and abandoned, it's almost like a museum, seeing the potential that the older Lima once had before it all burned to the ground in '53. There are seldom any occupied homes or passing cars on this side of town, and while many would call this place "creepy," the silence gives him an odd re-assurance somehow.

"So, how'd you find this joint, Hummel?"

Kurt shrugs his shoulders airily, frowning at the dust collected on his finger after swiping it across a shelf in the main lobby of the old library.

"A lot of people don't like me, I had to find a place where they wouldn't think to look anymore…" He sees Rachel's frown; the droop in her eyes as she bites her lip. And Sam feels almost ashamed, because although he never directly made fun of Kurt Hummel in school, he never did anything to stop it – and he never said anything to the boys much like Noah Puckerman who made this boys life a living hell. Sam looks to Noah, who's too busy kicking old moldy books off of shelves to notice the glances of several sad eyes on him. They all blink it away. And within the hour, they find themselves fixing the place up. As much as possible without the proper supplies – but they find an old broom closet and a metal dustpan that hadn't seen daylight in nearly half a century. And then sweep, and sneeze in the layers of dust surrounding them. They find a place for their bikes, and they make use of an old room upstairs. They tread tiled floors and hide out behind empty stacks – and in the throes of one of the most epic games of Hide – and – Seek that Sam Evans has ever played, he realizes – that he likes this random band of weirdo's that he's suddenly found himself with. Perhaps, they aren't so bad.

He hides in the old librarian break room in the back of the main lobby, in one of the closets. He knows that Santana is hiding nearby, underneath one of the desks – her and Brittany together. And he can hear shallow breaths coming from the bookshelf on the other side of the room – he guesses that maybe it's Quinn. From far away he hears the cries of defeat as someone is found, and he feels the knot in his insides twist, as footfalls carry throughout the main lobby. He can hear something rustling in the dark closet behind them, he think it's a mouse and breathes deeply, chest heaving with the anxiety of being found. The rustling continues behind him, and he spins in the slight darkness, foot outstretched, eyes adjusting to the light when he sees it. A small white hair, with yellow red eyes in the far depths of the closet – and it all comes back to him sharply. The day of Fiona Jay's death, the hundreds and hundreds of wild hare's jumping at his window, cracking the glass, bruising their craniums…hungry. And he can see its eyes following him as it advances, and he yells. He yells for his life as he falls over, bursting through the closet door and crawling backwards towards a wall as the hare follows. And where it came from, at least twenty more come forth. And he's screaming now for his life. And suddenly he hears a scream to his left, and in the commotion he's forgotten that he's not alone in this old room.

"Spiders…there are spiders everywhere." It's Santana, and she's jumping on top of a desk, staring down at what Sam believes to be wild rabid hares descending upon him. But he sees no spiders, and his head whips back and forth, unsure whether or not he could take anything else. "Help me." He grunts as one of them finds his shoe, clamping down on it with sharp, rotted teeth. He can hear feet approaching in haste, and in a silver quickness he sees a wooden chair come down hard on a group of five of them or so, breaking hind legs and faces, limbs. Blood flies about the room as Quinn Fabray goes on a tear streaked rampage, Santana shaking on top of the desk as Brittany backs her body against dusty drapes in a corner.

"Go away, go away, go away, go away…LEAVE US ALONE!" Quinn screeches over and over again as the chair comes down. It takes an eternity for anyone else to finally find them after the initial screams, but when the door opens and Rachel Berry is standing there with panic in her eyes – it's to see a room covered in the broken, twitching bodies of whatever is left. There is blood on Quinn's face from the splatter, on Sam's leg and on the walls. Santana trembles on the table and Brittany says nothing as the others find their way into the copper-tasting room. Sam watches as Rachel runs to Quinn first, grabbing the remains of the wooden chair from her shaking hands, hugging her fiercely. Puck's jaw sets in a hard line as he weaves through the gory mess to find Sam, him and Finn hoisting him up. And finally, there's Kurt Hummel – all sad looks coming from his knowing eyes, Mercedes' hand clutched within his own as they watch. And perhaps – now is the time to leave this place.

8

"This is all Hummel's fucking fault!" Santana yells as they drop their bikes at the Softball Field on Yellory at the end of the day. They're all still shaken, and in true Santana form, her fear manifests itself as a burning fire of anger as she spits cruel admonitions into the early evening air. Her finger is extended as she approaches Kurt, a cold glare in her eyes.

"No…" He stammers. "No, I didn't know."

"Bullshit!" She's about to reach him, and likely break his nose before Brittany reaches her, pulling her back quickly.

"No, Santana…he didn't know." Santana sighs and looks down at the gravelly road one time before slumping her shoulders, her eyes rise again to meet Kurt's but this time the fire is gone, replaced by the fear that so grudgingly remains.

"There were spiders everywhere…they were everywhere. Black widows and tarantulas…" And no one says anything as they listen to her wide-eyed rambling. But Sam objects, he knows that he didn't see any spiders, he knows for a fact that he's seen those hare's before – he knows.

"Not spiders…wild hares." He whispers, and this time all attention comes back to him. Quinn Fabray mumbles next. "Barbies." And before anyone can add in their confused two cents, Brittany is shaking her head left at right at all of them, a trembling frown working it's way into her shaking features. She looks downright terrified by whatever is plaguing her, and when she opens her mouth to speak – he understands – and he feels her fear all the way down into his tippy toes. He knows it.

"Gremlins, from that movie." Brittany whispers, but she continues quietly. "We all see something different, something scary to us. But it doesn't mean that what we each see isn't real…it's all real. IT changes, IT like's to change."

"Brittany what do you mean, IT?" From Quinn.

"That's what I like to call him sometimes…the monster. Sometimes he shows up on purpose just to tease me…now, I think he wants to do more than that."

"Monster?" Kurt questions timidly, his fingers shaking. Brittany nods sadly.

"He kills them, he eats their bodies and he follows us…he talks to me in my head, and he tells me things that make me cry – he won't leave me alone anymore. He's a monster…. and the adults, they can't see. None of them see."

"Fuck that shit, we're moving spots again." Puck yells out.

"We can't do that either." Quinn whispers from behind the group, her eyes distant, her fingers twitching at her side. Rachel looks over with concern.

"And why not! There's a monster running around in that old abandoned library! They aren't going anywhere!"

"I…. it isn't just the library, Noah… I think, this thing…it's everywhere and nowhere at all, all at the same time. We aren't safe wherever we end up, and that's the point isn't it?"

"Quinn's right." Sam whispers. "I've seen those things before, at my house. If I'm not even safe there…than where am I safe at all?" And he sees the cogs working in all of their young minds, a stalemate of sorts between them all. And it looks like they've come to a haunting conclusion, one that terrifies Sam on no end. It's Quinn who turns around to face them all once again, the beautiful blonde with pale skin and stony hazel eyes. She watches them all intently as the sun begins to fall luminously in the sky overhead.

"We stay."