Author's Note: Warning for mention of suicide, attempted sexual assault in a flashback

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Derry, Maine

"Is this the Puckerman residence?" David asked. After the incident in the restaurant they had gone back to the library to get a couple of boxes David had left there earlier. Right now, however, David was attempting to get ahold of Puck, "This is David Sullivan, an old friend."

While he was on the phone, Kurt, Rory, and Sam were staring at the bloody stains around the library that were left over from Sam's earlier visit. Kurt could not stop rubbing his hands together. The blood was gone, but he could still feel the warm liquid on his skin. All he could do was rub his hands raw in the hopes that he would feel something other than the blood.

"What are we gonna do now," Rory asked, unable to tear his eyes away from the bloody floor.

"Don't worry about it, little leprechaun. A little elbow-grease and soap oughtta clean it right up," Sam tried to joke. Kurt flinched and sat down with a thud on the closest chair as the memory came flooding back to him.

Eleven-year-old Kurt had stayed curled up in the corner for a good ten minutes after the taunting voice had stopped. He wouldn't be able to sleep until the blood was cleaned up. The young boy grabbed a rag, and started to scrub the blood off the mirror. It was hard work and he had to try to keep himself from gagging at the acrid, metallic scent.

He couldn't understand why his father had been unable to see the blood, even as he had smeared some over Kurt's skin. It couldn't be in his mind. This was too real. He looked down at the sink and prepared himself for a long night.

Kurt came back to the present when Rory spoke, "Why are we the only ones who can see this?"

Sam clapped a hand on the smaller man's shoulder, "Well, you got me stumped, let's ask the answer man. Oh, David!" he called, pulling Rory over to where the other men sat around David's desk. Kurt stood and followed, "Oh, Davie! Garcon!" the comedian rang the bell on the help desk to get the dark-skinned man's attention.

"Hold on a sec," David said, going back to his phone call, "Hello, Puck? Oh…David Sullivan. Is this the Puckerman residence? I'm trying to get ahold of Noah Puckerman."

"You tell that loser that if he hasn't left already, he's a dead man. We managed to show up…" Sam trailed off at his friend's laughter. They had all been so stressed and scared that he needed to try to help them relax. He hopped up on the counter and looked down at Rory's head, "Hey that matches your real hair, has anyone ever told you that? Is anyone from out of town? I just flew in from LA, and boy is my tail section tired," Rory laughed and held up a sign that said, silence. Sam grabbed it and threw it over his shoulder, "Yeah, not a chance. It's great to be back here in Derry! Breathing in that old, Derry air, I have never felt so much love in a room in my entire life! Rory, get all their names, I want to put them on my Christmas mailing list," As his friends laughed, Sam put Rory in a playful chokehold, "I love this man, I love this man he's like the brother I never had…wait a second…" Sam pulled Rory's head back to study him and pulled back in shock, "He is the brother I never had!"

"Oh, hold on a second," David said into the phone through his laughter, "Beep beep, Sam," he turned back to the phone. David listened for a minute and the laughter faded from everyone's face as they watched the sadness fall over their friends, "Okay, thank you," he hung up the phone, "Puck is dead. He cut his wrists in the bathtub, right after I phoned him."

Nobody knew how to react. Logical Puck. The one who never wanted anything to do with any of this, was dead. Finn thought back to when he got to Derry. When he was in the cemetery. The six empty graves and the recently filled one. He covered his mouth and sighed, fighting back tears for his old friend, when he remembered something.

"Puck was the last one of us to see It that summer," he said, "Do you remember? All summer long he just kept saying, it isn't empirically possible. Even seeing the clown didn't make it real for him. Nothing did until that afternoon in August. I remember, I was coming down Chestnut Street on my old bike, and I saw Puck running through the park like something was after him. He jumped on the back of my bike and told me to go. I can't honestly say I saw anything that day. Puck's the one who saw it. I was riding too fast to turn around, I didn't want to see…whatever it was. It took him hours to calm down enough to tell me what happened. He said he was down in Lampkin Park by a bird feeder…watching birds…like a good boy scout. I remember he used to call it 'collecting birds'.

Noah sat on the bench that was about twenty feet away from the bird feeder. He had his binoculars in hand so he could observe them without startling them away. He flipped through the pages in his bird book when he heard his name.

"Noah," a soft, but rough voice called out to him. He looked over in the direction where the voice had come from and saw an abandoned old house at the other end of the park. Curiosity peaked, he picked up his book and walked across the park.

"He said he didn't mean to go into that house, but this voice kept…whispering to him. Naturally, being Puck, he figured there was a rational explanation."

Noah climbed up the stairs leading to the front door. When he tested the knob and the door opened easily, he poked his head inside.

"Hello?" Puck called into the dark house. It must have been beautiful in its time. There was a large crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling in the foyer. Large windows, covered in moldy velvet curtains lined the wall next to the grand staircase.

"Noah," the same voice whispered. Puck walked into the house.

"Yeah? I-I'm right here," he said, clutching his bird book to his chest like a shield. The front door slammed shut behind him. Puck jumped and turned back to the door, trying to get it to open. The door, which had opened so easily when he went into the house, was now shut tight. Behind him, he could hear footsteps so heavy, the crystals in the chandelier rattled together. He looked over his shoulder. When he saw the creature coming down the stairs, he froze.

Its head was wrapped in filthy, rotting bandages. The tattered remains of the clown suit were hanging off of a lank form. The face beneath the bandages shifted and the hissing mouth opened, revealing blackened fangs.

"He was trapped. The only thing he could think of to do was to hold his bird book in front of him like a shield and say, as loud as he could, the names of all the birds he could remember."

"Longneck finch, speckled grouse, Baltimore oriole," the thing had reached the bottom of the stairs by now and those sickening teeth were twisted into a taunting smile, "…gray egret, hammerhead woodpecker, brown thrush!" As soon as he said the last name the creature stopped in his tracks and began to back away up the stairs. Puck didn't hesitate to try the door again. It opened and he went running. He didn't stop until he found Finn on his bicycle, and then they rode as fast as possible.

"Brown thrush," Finn finished the story, sadly.

Rory spoke up, "The day that we went into the sewer… Puck saw It. Face to face. Not the clown, but he saw what was behind the clown…. He ran up to me in school, and he said, 'I saw It! Rory… I looked right into Its…some kind of lights. I looked right into Its deadlights.' Then he said, I haven't thought of it until just now, I swear, he said, 'I looked into Its deadlights…and I wanted to be there.'"

"Deadlights!" Finn exclaimed, the word sparking another memory. A memory of the time they all went down into the sewers to fight the monster. That bright light that had attacked them…he couldn't think of a better name.

The men were all quiet for a moment when Sam said, "I need a drink," the others voiced their agreement.

"I've got something here," David said, standing up and walking to the library's mini-fridge.

As soon as he opened the door, dozens of colorful balloons came floating out, and carnival music began to play. When they were out of the way, David looked in the mini-fridge and cried out, "Puck!"

Sitting on the top shelf was the head of Noah Puckerman.

"Sorry I'm late guys," the head said, "Well let's see who's here, F-F-F-F-Finny-Boy! Sam! You still here? We never expected you to stick around, nice dye job, no one would ever suspect. Haystack! Putting on a little weight, huh? And speaking of dad's Kurtie, yours isn't worried about you anymore, he loves your choice in men. Wheezy! How's your sex life…. what's your sex life? Well, David you finally did it, you got us all back here. I guess it's the only way you'd ever see us, since you're so lame you never leave this town! I finally made it guys, I'm in the deadlights now, and you know what," the mocking voice coming from Puck's head roughened and went deeper into the voice that had haunted them all for thirty years, "it's true what they say, we all float down here. And you will too! They all float! They all float!"

David slammed the door. The lights above them went off and the library doors slammed shut. The glass windows in the doors imploded into the room and a strong wind came racing through the room, knocking books off the bookcases.

Rain started to pour from the ceiling and the typewriter on the desk behind them started to type by itself. The men huddled into a circle and joined hands, praying that their solidarity would be enough to keep the evil at bay for the moment. They felt relieved when the rain stopped, the lights flickered back on everything returned to normal.

This was the last straw for Sam, "Alright, I don't know about the rest of you, but I am getting really sick of this place! Now I will listen to anything everybody has to say, but can we do this someplace else, please!"

David nodded, he was feeling guilty that he had dragged his friends into this mess, and was causing them so much stress, "Alright," he said, quietly, "Just help me with this stuff," Blaine and Sam each grabbed one of the large boxes that were sitting on the counter while Finn grabbed the piece of paper that had been in the typewriter.

"Finn?" Kurt asked, concerned when he saw Finn tense up, "Finn, what is it?"

"H-he thrusts h-h-his," Finn couldn't speak. Blaine reached over his shoulder and grabbed the paper from his trembling hands.

"'He thrusts his fists into the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts?'" Blaine read, confused by his friend's reaction, "That's all it says, over and over and over again."

"M-m-my m-mom g-g-gave me t-that to say t-t-t-to h-help with my st-stutter!" this, combined with the last twenty-four hours was freaking Finn out and he was reaching his breaking point. He was sure he would have snapped if it hadn't been for Sam.

"No offense, pal. It ain't helping," when Finn looked over at his friend, he puckered his large lips and blew a mocking kiss to his tall friend.

It was so ridiculous that Finn had to laugh. He covered his face and took a deep breath.

"Let's get out of here," Blaine said, grabbing the box, and hurrying out of the library. The others were quick to follow.

Juniper Hills State Correctional Facility Psychiatric Unit

Karofsky was, once again, sitting in bed and staring out his window. He was watching the moon go down when he heard a voice, "Dave," he looked around the room, but couldn't see anyone. The voice came again, this time, from under his bed, "Down here."

He smiled when he saw the broken, rotting form of his best friend, Rick.

"Rick, what are you doing down there?"

"You got a problem down there you need some help with, Dave?!" the guard, Sue, shouted sarcastically. Dave shook his head and shrank back down into his pillow, "That's a good boy," she said, voice dripping with disdain.

"You don't have to talk out loud, Dave," Rick said, "I can hear you when you just think it. And they don't hear me at all."

"What do you want?" Dave thought.

"Same thing you want," Rick replied with a conniving smirk on his face, "I wanna pay them back."

"Yeah," Dave smirked as he thought, "Pay em back."

"But you're gonna have to get out of here. You're gonna have to go back to Derry," Dave looked hesitant, Rick continued, his voice sounding more like the clown, "I need you Dave. We all, we all need you."

"They can't hurt you," Dave thought with a wince.

"We didn't think they could hurt us back then either, but they did. Didn't they? Bested you all summer."

"Don't talk about that," he thought angrily.

"I can take care of em," Rick went on as if he hadn't said anything, "if they only half-believe. But you're alive, Dave. You can get them no matter if they believe, half-believe, or don't believe at all! One-by-one, Dave."

"I can't get out of here. They've got wires on the windows, and Sylvester on the door. Man, Sylvester is the worst. I hate her!"

"I'll take care of Sue, Dave," Rick pulled his arm out from under the bed and handed something to Karofsky. It was his old switchblade, "Lead the way, Dave."

Karofsky pulled rick out from under the bed and slowly started to walk to the door. Sue looked up furiously as he approached. She ripped open the door and walked into the room, "Alright, Dogmeat, I've had it! Your head's gonna be bouncing off the floor!" she stopped as someone stepped out from behind the psycho. Standing close to ten feet tall was a man wearing a clown suit. What really made her look up, however, were the growls that were coming from the man. She looked up at the stranger, and for the first time in Sue Sylvester's life, she screamed.

The head wasn't human! This thing had the head of a Doberman and it was angry. She turned to run, but the creature was faster.

Her screams echoed through the facility as she was torn to shreds.

Derry, Maine

The six men walked into Derry's one hotel. They paid for their rooms and David requested that they be allowed to use one of the sitting rooms, without being bothered. The men walked in and set the boxes on the table. When Sam saw what was in his, he immediately protested, "Huh. No, no, no, no David. No, no, no, no. I will have no need of this stuff, David," he said, pulling out a flashlight and a hard hat, "But thank you very much for thinking about me, and including it just for me. But none for me! Thank you very much!"

"Sam," Kurt said, stopping his rant.

"What!?"

"You're shouting," he said, irritated.

"I know! Beep beep, Sam! Beep! Beep!"

Rory rubbed his temples, "Talk to us, David. Tell us…stories…tell us things so we don't have to remember what we saw in the library," he begged. Blaine saw that he was starting to panic as he pulled out his inhaler. The curly haired man rushed over to his smaller friend and grabbed his arm.

"Hey, come on pal. Don't let It get you. Fight it!"

Rory nodded, gratefully, "I saw myself today… I saw myself back there," he motioned to his inhaler, "I know it's just camphor water, I know that, but I need it."

"Take it easy, pal," Blaine said softly, leading the distraught Irishman to a nearby chair.

Kurt kneeled in front of Rory, next to Blaine, and said, "If it works then it's good medicine. You've always believed in it. That's what matters."

Rory smiled at Kurt's logic. David decided to get the conversation rolling back to It. He pulled out a pile of newspaper clippings and handed some to Finn before walking to the others, "I'm sure by now you all remember what was going on in Derry thirty years ago; there was a rash of killings, maiming's, disappearances…mostly children. Everybody was afraid, but nobody did anything. Until we went after It," David began, passing out the clippings, "And we almost killed It. Dave Karofsky confessed to everything and the killings stopped…until earlier this year, exactly thirty years later. Now the first thing you should know is, if you count backwards in thirty year increments every date you come to will correspond with a huge disaster in Derry's history. In 1960, the big fire at the Black Spot Club. In 1930, the explosion down at the old Ironworks. In 1900 the massacre at Dred's Creek. And on, and on."

Eleven-year-old Kurt watched David's presentation with fascination.

"The biggest mystery is how 253 settlers disappeared without a trace," David said, a confused look on his face. Before he could go on, however, Mr. Schue interrupted.

"Thank you, David, for that illuminating, if somewhat…morbid history."

Kurt didn't understand why he didn't let him continue.

"He didn't want to know," he finally realized, "You knew all about this, even then. Mr. Schuester didn't want to know."

"It's a disease, Kurt," Finn said.

"The Derry Disease," Blaine said, mockingly, "None of them want to know."

Rory could understand, "It's too horrible, so they act like— "

"They act like it doesn't even happen," Sam interrupted angrily.

"I remember…" Kurt began, hesitantly, "I remember a man…Mr. Ryan… he was on his front porch, I was coming home from school. Dave Karofsky was waiting for me! Right outside my house!"

Kurt had just come around the corner leading to his rundown house when he saw Dave Karofsky, Belch and Rick Nelson leaning against his gate. He quickly turned around to run, but Belch and Rick grabbed him by the arms and pushed him against the fence.

"Are you gonna hit me?" the eleven-year-old asked, trying to sound brave. The bullies snickered, terrifying the pale boy. He tried to flinch away when Rick started petting his hair.

The bullies didn't say anything. They just kept touching him. The innocent boy had known very few loving touches, but he would prefer his father's hits over these sickening caresses. He tried desperately to fight, but that just made them laugh harder and hold him tighter. Karofsky leaned in close to his face. The fourteen-year-old bully put his hand up to Kurt's jaw and gave his face a harsh caress. He could feel the tears starting to form behind blue eyes.

Kurt looked around for help. He could see Mr. Ryan on his porch. He had been tending his flowers, but now he was watching the scene unfold with concern. Kurt was certain that he was going to come over and make the boys leave him alone. The young boy watched, shocked as the man simply turned around and walked into his house. His chin was grabbed in a large sweaty hand and he was forced to look at his attacker. Karofsky's ugly face was slowly getting closer to his. Kurt closed his eyes and prayed for it to be over. The bully pressed his face to Kurt's and placed unwanted kisses against his jawline that were slowly moving to his lips.

Before the bully could steal his first kiss, Kurt heard a sound he had never been glad to hear before, "What the hell are you doing to my son!"

"I saw Mr. Ryan across the street. He looked so concerned… I-I thought he was going to help me…I couldn't believe it! He just turned around and went inside. That was when it really hit me; there was something terribly wrong in Derry, with Derry."

"How did you get out of that, Kurt?" Blaine was infuriated, but he was able to ask the question calmly.

"Daddy came home…it was one of the only times I was ever really glad to see him."

David pulled his distraught friend into a hug, "So," he said, "it's thirty years later, and right on schedule the killings start up again. Six so far, maybe more. There have been a number of disappearances with no trace of a body. Now I wanted to be absolutely certain before I called anyone. And I became absolutely certain when I found something at the latest crime sight. God, that was just yesterday…anyway…this is it," he finished, showing the picture he had found of Joe to the group. Finn looked away. David put the picture away.

"For whatever reason, there's something very special about us being together. We found each other that summer. Our togetherness made us strong, otherwise, It would have picked us off one by one. I mean, think about it. Is it an accident that none of us have kids? Including Puck? Or that when we came together as young people we were… well we were all…losers? Now look at you. Six of you left Derry and became unusually successful. Big time breadwinners."

"Leaving you here holding the bag," Finn cut in apologetically.

"Yeah, you kept the lighthouse for the rest of us, I feel like a real jerk about that," Blaine said.

"Me too," Kurt agreed in a small voice.

David scoffed, "It's nobody's fault. Our parents decided who stayed and who went. And when I grew up, I stayed here because I wanted to."

Rory shook his head, "I think you stayed because you had to. I don't know what's gonna happen when the sun comes up, but I do know I appreciate what you've done for everyone," Rory stood and pulled David into a hug.

500 yards from Derry city limits

A red rental car pulled up to a service station. The bell rang, alerting the attendant to the customer. He came outside and walked up to the car waiting at the pump.

"Evenin'," he said with a friendly smile, "You're up late."

Rachel Barbra Berry Hudson leaned out the window, "How much farther is Derry?" she asked, politely.

"Oh, I'd guess about, maybe, 500 yards to the city limits."

Rachel breathed a sigh of relief, "Oh, thank God. I nearly fell asleep a little while ago. I feel like I've been driving forever."

"Well, you just cross the old bridge down there at the Barrens and hang a left."

"The Barrens?" she asked, confused.

"Yes," the attendant said, only his voice was different. It was deep and gravelly. The friendly attitude was gone, "it's where they used to play when they were kids."

Rachel was frightened and hurried to plug her seatbelt back in. This man was scaring her and she wanted Finn, "Thank you…I'll be going now."

"Don't you want your balloon first, Ms. Hudson?" he asked.

She turned back to the attendant. Only instead of the friendly, if somewhat greasy, man, there was a hideous clown, "Don't you want it?" he asked again, and again. His voice was hypnotic. She couldn't move as the unfriendly eyes began to glow. They glowed brighter and brighter until she felt as though she was drowning in them. His voice had become an angry growl. She was frozen.

And then, everything went black.