Of Doctors, Aliens, and Music

By: RavenHeart101

Disclaimer: If I owned Doctor Who I'd be older. If I owned Torchwood I'd be richer. And if I owned Glee I wouldn't be on here. If I owned (or was a part of) Simple Plan I would... suddenly have switched genders.

Summary: Torchwood may be practically dead, but that doesn't mean that the aliens have stopped their descent on Earth. Jack's hiding in a small Ohio town, working at a local garage. The Doctor's randomly transported to a boarding school. Kurt's trying to get through his sophomore year of high school. Blaine's trying to get used to Dalton. Santana's trying to sort out her feelings. Brittany's trying to understand life. And then something goes wrong and they are forced to come together to figure out how to fix it. Somethings may be more permanent than others.

A: N – Yay I actually got reviews! Thank you all so much! Oh, and because I totally forgot to add this with the last chapter, this story is going to largely feature both Klaine and Brittana (which is first for me, because I've never written femslash).

"...They're taking our dreams
And they tear them apart
'til everyone's the same ..."

Santana sighed, leaning back in the plastic chair in McKinley High's choir room. It was boring today. After the whole "Pink Houses" incident Brittany had left her to go hang out with Hummel. Which, you know, wouldn't have been a problem if she hadn't ditched Puckerman thinking that she would take Brittany out for a celebratory "Man Hands Has No Voice" dinner. But, instead, she had been ditched for Hummel. She sighed again, crossing her arms stubbornly over her chest and let her head dip lightly to stare at the floor. It wasn't like she cared. She just missed hanging out with Brittany. It was almost like the blonde always had someone else to hang out with. Was she not good enough for her...? Santana shook that thought away with a scowl, pulling herself, and her bag, out of the plastic chair. That would be absurd to think of!

She glared at the other students when she passed them, many of them scrambling out of the way of the vicious daggers shooting from her dark eyes. Santana couldn't really give a reason as to why she was so angry, but she was. And it had something to do with Hummel and damn it that boy was definitely going to get his ass handed to him today!

She grumbled under her breath, plotting the best way to get rid of his presence with Brittany until she paused. Music was blasting rather loudly from the auditorium, and, as she pushed open the doors to see what it was, it was a rather Kurt Hummel-ified Kurt Hummel singing his freaking lungs out.

Damn. Santana had known he was talented, but, judging by the fact that he had blown the damn note in Defying Gravity she had never really thought he was all that much. Which was a pretty stupid thing for her to think. Especially after the whole 4 Minutes fiasco with Coach Sylvester.

But, anyway, she paused. And she watched and she thought "Damn this kid is even more screwed up than I am" because he was singing about all his hatred towards Rachel Berry – Man Hands – and how he was pretty much pissed off at – or extremely hurt – but something that his father was doing – or had done. When he was finished and gasping for breath – and it looked as though Hummel was going to burst into tears or punch something – and she was preparing herself for the emotional talk she was going to have to waste her time having clapping broke through the auditorium. She knew who Burt Hummel was, and the man standing at the edge of the stage was Burt Hummel. She quickly exited the auditorium. No way in hell was Santana going to intrude on something as personal as whatever was about to go down with Hummel and his father.

As she left the school Santana had finally managed to successfully convince herself that everything was okay. But there was this nagging in the back of her mind that things were seriously just starting to be screwed up.

Her phone vibrated against her leg and she answered it on the second ring. "Hey San!" Brittany's very much welcomed voice said cheerfully into her ear.

"Hey Britt. Weren't you hanging with Hummel today?" She answered with a small smile.

"Nope! He said that he had something else to do, but I think he just wanted to be alone. He looked really sad." Brittany sounded sad for a moment and Santana had to wonder just how the girl could easily pick up on others emotions and yet she didn't know what two plus two was. Brittany would forever be a mystery to her. "Do you want to hang out?"

"Sure, Britts." She climbed into her car, swinging her bag over to the passenger's seat. She started her car with a smile. If there was one person she could always rely on it was Brittany.

The Civil War was possibly one of the subjects that Blaine had gotten tired of learning about the third time he was taught it. And yet, here he was, hiding out in his dorm, the chords to the acoustic version of Knock You Down he was trying to master playing in his ears with his history book propped up on his knees and reading through his text on the Civil War. History wasn't his worst subject – that was chemistry – but he was pretty sure his history teacher hated him. Mister Yates hadn't exactly done anything to prove his suspicions, but the scholarly man was always staring at him. And it was unnerving in a way that all the bullying had yet to over do.

If Blaine was to be completely honest he would have taken that weird Doctor guy over Mister Yates any day. He squinted his eyes and flicked a curl out of his eyes. He didn't fit in here at all.

Blaine Anderson was nerd. A complete and utter nerd. Math was his favorite subject in the world, he could quote countless old movies from Breakfast at Tiffany's to Singing In the Rain, he wrote music in his spare time, and he read Vogue whenever he was out getting coffee (which was a lot more now that he was at Dalton and away from home). The boys at Dalton weren't like him at all. He didn't fit into just one category. Where his roommate, David, was both an English freak and a musical genius, Blaine was both mediocre in such things (and he refused to let anyone hear him sing or play music). Gregory from his chemistry class was obsessed with everything science fiction. There were many more examples of exactly what Blaine wasn't and absolutely none for what Blaine was.

But, anyway, back to his original dilemma. He was pretty sure Mister Yates hated his guts, and if he didn't pass this test on the Civil War he could kiss Dalton goodbye. It wasn't as though he was there on a scholarship (his family was beyond set for life), but he was pretty sure his father only agreed to send him to Dalton in the first place because he was sure Blaine could handle the work load. And he had had more than enough time to get used to the school in the last three weeks he had been there.

He sighed and pulled eyes away from the offending text in front of him, instead choosing to gaze up at the open window. The breeze from outside ran from outside through his room, taking care to muse his already mused curly mess that he liked to call hair. He blinked as a figure clad in a suit ran across the grass. Was that...? He pushed his thing to the side, unplugging his ipod from his ears and stuffing it in his pocket and scrambling to look out the window. Yes... it was Mister Yates! The usually well kept man looked absolutely terrified as a swarm of something flew at him. Blaine stared, horror written across his face as the thing entered in through every visible hole in his teacher's body.

When all of the thing was fully inside of him Mister Yates' originally brown eyes were bright yellow. And they were staring straight at him.

He may have squealed, but he managed to hold in a scream until the door leading into his dorm was actually kicked open. The Doctor from the week before stood in the doorway with an almost scared look on his face. A short (well the same height as him) and blonde girl stood behind him. "Doctor!" She had a British accent too. Blaine would have taken the time to marvel at that if he wasn't too creeped out to do much more besides scream and bob his mouth up and down like a fish out of water. "You can't just kick open a door like that-!"

"Hello again!" The Doctor said cheerfully, his hand reaching out to grab Blaine by the arm. The boy stumbled over his books as he yanked – forcefully- out of his dorm room. "Run." He was pulled down the filled hallway of the dorm rooms. Boys took time to stare at the odd trio, some of them jumping out of the way to avoid being hit. Blaine was pulled down the hall and out of the dorm building, the green scenery and the scholarly backdrop made the three look even more out of place as their feet all but skimmed the ground in the hasty run. His hair bounced on and off his head with each step that his new converse with a painted on British flag took. He tripped once or twice, but the blonde girl had steadied him with each stumble.

"Stop them!" Well now Blaine felt as though he was in some sort of weird and corny science fiction movie, but he wasn't stupid and he kept on running. He wasn't sure which person he was more afraid of (if he took the time to stop and think about it). It was either this Doctor man and his blonde companion, or Mister Yates the history teacher that just had some weird black something possess his body. Both options were full of things that Blaine didn't want to think about. He felt his pure white sleeve catch on something. With his eyes closed he prayed that his sleeve had simply caught on a branch, but when he felt the flexing of fingers it struck him that it very much was not a branch.

It was David Hughes that held his arm tight in his hand, and his Asian friend (Wesley Stein) was standing beside him with a questionable look on his face. "Sir?" David asked slowly. But he didn't sound like David. Blaine hadn't exactly gotten to know his roommate, but, out of everyone in Dalton he was pretty sure he knew David the best. And David was not acting like David.

Mister Yates was jogging towards them, and people were staring and Blaine hated it when people stared but he was even more scared of the yellow tinge in the history teacher's eyes. And then the sun hit David's eyes at the perfect angle (and some distant part in his mind noted how it would have made the perfect picture) and there was a yellow tinge there too. With desperation he looked back at the Doctor and the blonde girl, both of them turning back to run towards him again. The Doctor took something out of his pocket (small and compact and he was banging it against his hand in what seemed like frustration). "It doesn't work! Why does it never work when I need it to?"

Blaine would have waited, but Mister Yates was getting closer and closer with each second. With a small cry of panic he ordered his mind to make his foot kick out. To make his hand move, his elbow fly into David's stomach, but nothing worked. It was just like with the bullies. He was too scared to do much else beside stare with his hazel eyes wide. Fear left him paralyzed, thousands of scenarios soaring through his mind, rendering him helpless. Shoves, taunts, blades, guns, death threats. He was supposed to be safer here. He was supposed to be safer - "Can I have him?" The Doctor asked politely. David simply stared at him, his face unemotional – expressionless. "Okay than." An elbow connected violently with his roommate's face and then he was being pulled away again.

A sharp growl sounded from behind them, but Blaine took no time to dwell on exactly what it was before he pulled into the school's main room. And then into a bright blue police box. He would have taken a moment to wonder how exactly they would all fit in here, but everything happened so fast. In a blink of an eye the doors were closed and he had the feeling that he had just hit the peak of a rollercoaster. His stomach dropped and his head spun. "Wha - who are you?"

"The Doctor!"

The blonde girl smiled widely at her, her white teeth glittering. "I'm Rose. Tyler. Rose Tyler." She reached over to shake his hand and, limply, he allowed her to take it in her own delicate one. "And you are?"

"B-Blaine Ander... son..." He trailed off, finally coming to a realization as to where exactly he was. It was yellow, gold mixed with bronze. There were a ton of crisscrossing veins falling from the roof to the floor. A big, bright turquoise blue statue situated itself in the middle of the room – was it really a room? - and a computer like system stood in the corner. The Doctor was resting his foot on the big turquoise thing, typing at a faster rate than he expected, and muttering gibberish under his breath.

Just where the hell was he?

Jack slumped against the counter, his elbows getting stained by the left over grease. He felt his head fall forward, to rest gently in the crook of his elbow. His forehead was stained with dark sweat and his eyes were heavy. If he closed his eyes he could imagine that he was back in Ianto's apartment. With him bustling around the room, the pots and pans banging and clanging and filling the room with much needed sound. He could imagine the familiar and homely smells, the calm and relaxed feeling. A small, serene smile pulled at his lips. It was home.

A bang bounded through the garage. His head snapped up, jerking back into the cold, hard pain of reality. His soul dropped, and there was no inkling of happiness that could have brought it back up. Well maybe nothing. Jack wasn't so sure anymore. Ohio could start to feel like home. "Jack!" Kurt. A small smile crossed his lips. Now Kurt Hummel was someone that he hadn't figured out. Burt he knew by heart. He looked all tough and scary, but he was really just the stereotypical big teddy bear. That didn't mean that he wasn't tough and scary, Burt was damn protective of Kurt. He had threatened more than one person when they had dared show up at the shop (or call the shop) and complain about his "fag" of a son. "Jack!"

He sympathized with Kurt. The boy reminded him of his brother at times, or maybe even of himself. "Hey kid." He greeted him with a kind and easy smile. He forced his body to ignore the creeping tiredness that was wearing him down and, instead, focused on the teenager before him. He was out of the flannel and back into the perfectly picked out fashionable outfits. Jack was happy to see that. "No more flannel?" He inserted anguish in his voice.

But the sassy boy didn't pay the teasing any mind. His blue eyes glittered as tears almost pulled themselves out of his eyes. "Kurt...? What's going on?"

The boy hissed in a breath. "My dad loves me right?" His voice was higher than usual. It shook with heartbreak and a single tear pulled itself down a familiar pathway down his porcelain cheek.

"Yeah Kurt. Burt loves you more than you'd think. He always talks about you-" He was cut off when the boy practically pounced on him. Jack hadn't expected that. He hadn't expected a desperate hug. He hadn't expected the anguished sobs and the tears staining his shirt. "What's going on?"

"He's gone." He felt the words whisper against his neck.

"Who's gone?"

"He's gone." Kurt chocked on his words. "He's gone just like mom and he said that he wasn't coming back and he said it was my fault and... he wasn't my dad. No one will believe me but it wasn't him. It wasn't him."

"I believe you." Jack didn't know why he believed it, but he did. He believed the sobbing teenager. Burt wouldn't have just left. He loved his son too much to just leave. "I believe you."

Thank you all so much for reviewing! To be honest I didn't expect three reviews, let alone SEVEN. I am ecstatic. Thank you so much. You have no idea how much it means. -Hugs-