Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

"I really looked forward to that kingsize bed at the hotel", Santana whined when they were once again in the car, speeding away from the resort. "But now, I need to spend the night on some hard mattress of some lame motel."

"Maybe, you know the owner of a Hilton Hotel", Mercedes offered, she was the one driving this time. "Or even Paris Hilton in person. What if Paris Hilton is in fact a witch, too?"

Santana shook her head fervently. "I think I knew if that was the case." She turned to Kurt with interest when something came to her mind. "Who was that hobbit-cop Manhands has told me about, robot boy?"

"Just someone I know", Kurt answered evasively. "We have met a couple of times."

"As in, dating each other?", Sam provoked him.

"Heavens, no!", he exclaimed. "He is not even my type."

Rachel had stayed weirdly silent since they all had gotten in the car. Which was really unusual for her. She normally was the most talkative among them.

"Did you swallow a frog, Berry?", Santana soon addressed the elephant in the room. "Why else are you so quiet?"

"Why didn't you tell me you were bionic?", she finally asked Kurt.

"Excuse me?"

"When I discovered my new ability, I suddenly felt so…lonely. No one ever got me", she explained, sadness was ringing in her voice. "We could have been there for each other."

"Why should I tell you of all people about my biggest secret?", Kurt snapped. "After you took away Diego from me?! Besides, that was none of your business." He leaned his head against the glass pane, ignoring how Rachel answered him back indignantly.

-Seventeen years earlier-

Elizabeth Hummel was smiling when they played her most favorite song on the radio, Joyride by Roxette. She was a huge Roxette fan and was delighted when Kurt gave her a cassette tape with Roxette's greatest hits on her last birthday.

Kurt was sitting in the back of the car with his bag to his right. His mom had just picked him up from his ballet dance lessons.

"Mom", he spoke up "The other kids are laughing at me because I'm the only boy that does ballet. They say it's too girly."

"That's not true, bug", Elizabeth immediately said "Just because you do ballet doesn't mean you are a girl. You do you, right?"

"They also laugh at me because I still like teaparties. And musicals. And high heels. They say something is wrong with me." The little boy sadly looked out of the window.

Their car stopped when the traffic lights turned red and Elizabeth turned to her son. "Now listen, bug: Nothing is wrong with you, okay? You are perfect, just the way you are. Don't believe the other kids if they try to tell you otherwise. You are you and there is nothing wrong with that." She squeezed Kurt's hands softly. "You are my golden boy, and you always will be, baby. Those kids were being disrespectful towards you. If they ever tell you something like that again, come straight to me."

"Okay, mom."

"I love you, bug." She turned back around in her seat and smiled at him through the rearview mirror. "So, what do you want for dinner? Mac n cheese? Or pa-"

Just at that moment, a truck that couldn't stop in time hit their car frontally.

…

Sadly, Elizabeth didn't make it – death on impact. Her son was severely injured but still alive when he was hospitalized. However, the doctors were positive that it was only a matter of time until the little boy would die due to the severity of his injuries.

But Burt didn't want to accept that his son was on his deathbed. He transferred Kurt to a private clinic that belonged to his older brother's wife Mildred. The married couple was recently working on nanobots that could blend in the human's nervous system seamlessly. Those nanobots would be able to heal the injuries of his son from the inside – if Kurt didn't die because his body rejected the foreign particles. That had happened to the test people before him that had volunteered to get nanobots injected.

Still, Burt took the risk – the alternative would be to let his son die of his injuries without having done everything in his power to save him. In order to prevent that Kurt's body rejected the nanobots, like the other test people's bodies had, Mildred and Brian decided to implant a microchip into Kurt's brain that would send electromagnetic stimuli to the nanobots. Also, they implanted eye implants on the boy's damaged retina so that he wouldn't go blind. These surgeries were pretty risky and cost intensive, but they didn't mind. They had already lost their sister-in-law; they didn't want to lose their nephew as well.

Much to their relief, Kurt recovered quickly. He was lucky that his seven-year-old nervous system wasn't fully developed yet and the nanobots didn't cause any problems. The test people before him that had died had already been grown up, their bodies were less adaptive.

What they hadn't considered were all the side effects that popped up due to the surgeries. Two days after Kurt had left the hospital, Burt got the shock of his life when his son was suddenly able to let all the forks and knives levitate without touching them. Or that Kurt was suddenly able to see through closed doors. Or that electrical sparks were shooting out of his fingers. Apparently, the electromagnetic interaction between the nanobots in his system and the microchip in his brain had turned his little boy into some bionic superhuman.

So now, Burt did not only have to digest the death of his beloved wife but also needed to raise his superpowered son all alone. Which was going to be interesting, to say the least.

…

Kurt snapped out of his daydreaming when Sam shook his shoulder gently. "You okay, my friend?"

"Y…yes, everything fine." Kurt purposely ignored how Rachel was glaring at him once again, probably because he had ignored her for so long.

At this moment, Santana turned to Sam with a questioning frown. "Trout mouth, I need your help."

"What for?", Sam asked curiously.

"I need to renew the protection spell for my house in Arizona, or else, those Brainwarp bastards will be able to enter mi casa anytime they want."

Sam nodded understandingly. "And how can I help you?"

…

After they had stopped at some gas station, Santana motioned them to follow her into the forest nearby so that they could keep her little session private. She retrieved something from her purse – a piece of ragwort.

"This needs to be at least 200 years old for my spell to work", Santana commented. "I could use my magic, but it would be easier for me if we combined our powers, Trout Mouth."

"How?", Rachel wanted to know, putting her hands on her hips. "As far as we know, Sam is no witch."

"He doesn't need to be", Santana snapped, annoyed. "But his time manipulation powers are pretty useful for what I am about to do."

"And what is it that you want to do?", Kurt queried with quirked eyebrows.

Santana sighed. "You're all too stupid to do the math? I am going to let the ragwort age with my powers." She looked over to Sam "Our combined powers."

Sam nodded slowly. "Makes sense. What do I have to do?"

"First, take my hands." Santana put the ragwort down on the ground and grabbed both of Sam's hand. "And now, repeat every single word I'm going to say."

"Right. Sounds easy."

Santana closed her eyes and started muttering in a low monotonous voice: "Aqiluk ekou unyyvca."

The rest blinked at her blankly. "…what did you just say?", Mercedes asked her confusedly.

"That's an ancient dialect of us witches", Santana explained, she was slowly growing impatient. "Now you, Evans."

Sam looked perplexed. "Uh…Aqiluk ekou unyyvca?"

"Your pronoucniation could use some improvement. Whatever." Santana went on: "Yyuye cyrca oayb."

"Yyuye cyrca oayb."

„Good. And now my final spell: Yyuye, kinyuk aruat eko aoinyan!"

"Yyuye, kinyuk aruat eko aoinyan!" Just when Sam had said the last word, a strong wind suddenly came up around them. Santana's eyes had widened a little, but she stayed silent.

When the wind had died down, the group of five exchanged confused glances. "What the hell was that?", Mercedes asked Santana. "Was that part of the plan?"

"Actually…it wasn't", Santana confessed. She picked up the ragwort that didn't look as if it had aged. "It didn't work."

"Dammit." Sam looked disappointed. "Was it my pronunciation? I will do better next time, okay?"

But Santana just waved it off. "I'm not in the mood anymore. Let's try again tomorrow. But now, I'm hungry." She went ahead, right to where they had parked the car. "I think I'm in the mood for a juicy cheeseburger. Anyone else?"

"I would prefer a salad or a buddha bowl", Kurt commented. "All those carbs are going to make me fat."

"Aand I give zero fucks about that." The Latina rolled her eyes. "You are so petty sometimes, robot boy."

"I'm no robot!", Kurt snapped for the umpteenth time. "I'm…" He trailed off when they left the forest and looked at what was in front them.

"Where is the gas station?", Rachel voiced was everyone was thinking. "And where is our car?"

Instead of the gas station, there was only an empty field in front of them, and a windmill far afield.

"I'm pretty sure that this windmill has not been there before", Mercedes remarked. "What the hell?"

Santana had paled in the meantime. "I might know what's wrong", she croaked.

"And what?", Kurt asked her sharply, glaring. "What have you done, Satan?"

"Something went wrong with the spell." She looked far ahead before she continued: "Instead of letting the ragwort age, we… we kind of went back in time."

…

"What?!" Rachel's shrill screaming shooed away the birds that were sitting on the trees nearby. She stomped over to Santana, beyond pissed. "How?!"

Santana shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. Maybe Trout Mouth's powers had a different effect on my spell."

"How far did we go back?", Sam asked her by far calmer than Rachel, though it was partially his fault they were in this situation "Maybe it's not that bad."

"Not that bad? Not that bad?!", Rachel spat. "What if we landed in Nazi Germany in the forties? You can talk, Sam, you white straight Christian male. Santana's Mexican, Mercedes is black, Kurt is gay, and I'm jewish, also, we are all freaks! I have seen the boy in the striped pajamas - The Nazis will take great pleasure in sending us to concentration camps to gas us cruelly. Have fun trying to free us."

"I doubt that we are in Nazi Germany, Rachel", Mercedes said softly in an effort to appease the petite brunette.

"How do you know?!"

"She is right, calm your tits, dwarf", Santana spat. "I only did a time spell, no teleportation spell. We are still in the states as far as I know. Exactly where we have been before I cast the spell."

"At least something…but you still didn't answer Sam's question", Kurt pointed out "How far exactly did we go back?"

Santana scratched her head, suddenly sheepish. "At least four hundred years, I'm afraid."