Kurt wasn't confused. It occurred to him that he should be. It was, it was…odd. Mostly, it was just odd.

"I do not envy the clean-up crew today," a man murmured standing next to him, shaking him out of his reverie. It appeared to Kurt that he was talking to nobody in particular, just standing and observing the wreckage.

Kurt was observing, too. He'd given up on trying to get Finn's and Carole's attention ages ago and wanted to do nothing more than hug Mercedes, who had barely missed his newly-purchased Gucci boots, but when his hand went right through her, he began to piece it together.

One minute he was sleeping, and the next, he was getting off the bus, amazed that blood hadn't gotten all over his lucky outfit, which he'd worn specifically for the occasion.

He wanted to tell the people he loved not to worry, that he was fine. He thought his cell phone was in his pocket, but it somehow wasn't.

A girl next to him rolled her eyes in annoyance. She was pretty, Kurt decided, but she really could use a splash of color. Professional didn't necessarily have to mean boring, and those pumps!

"Borrow those from your grandmother, did you?" Kurt asked. He might've held the comment back if he was certain she would be able to hear him, but he was dead, so he must be a ghost…so…he could play fashion police as much as he wanted.

Not that being alive would've stopped him, but still…

"Fuck you!" she said, glaring at him.

"I've been telling Georgia she needs to liven things up a bit, but she just won't listen," a perky blonde said.

"You…you can see me?"

"How can we miss you with that bloody hat?" a dark-haired, unshaven guy with a British accent asked.

"I'm Daisy," the blonde said. "Daisy Adair. This here is Georgia. That's Mason," she said, pointing to the British guy.

"Friend of yours?" Daisy asked, pointing to Rachel, who was currently singing Do-Re-Mi for what had to be the fiftieth time. "She does have a lovely voice."

"Right now, I want to fucking kill that doe a dear, a female dear," Georgia whined. "And fuck now that fucking song is stuck in my head!"

Kurt nodded.

"George, that's one of yours, right?" the old guy asked.

Georgia—George—rolled her eyes and went to drag her away from the crowd gathered around the bus. "Aaw, man! Do I have to, Rube?"

"The dead shouldn't be kept waiting, Peanut.," he said. "Name's Rube by the way," he added, offering the group a smile.

"They won't listen to me," Rachel was saying on her way back towards where he was standing. "But that's okay. The great ones are always ignored before they are finally seen for their talent. I'm stopping only because if I don't, I'll have no voice left for the competition, but, you know, if she wants to give me the silent treatment," Rachel said stiffly, "so be it."

"I somehow think the competition is kind of the least of our worries now," Kurt said.

"Santana looks so sad," Brittany said, joining Kurt and Rachel and the strangers. "I've been trying to make her feel better, but she won't listen."

"She can't hear you, Boo," Artie (who'd rolled up a few minutes before) said, squeezing her hand.

"Why?" Brittany asked. "What happened?"

"Does anyone remember?" Quinn asked as she approached the small group that had begun to gather around.

"I just remember the bus dipping in the road," Sam said, coming towards them. "After that..."

"This is quite possibly the grossest thing I've ever seen in my life," Artie said. "Guess I'm…hey, are we dead?"

"You don't exactly get beheaded and live through it," Mike said.

"This isn't fair!" Kurt yelled. Everyone glared at him.

" 'Course it's not, Kid," Rube began. "But…"

Kurt never let him finish. "I can't die! I just can't! My boyfriend and I were going to move in together with Rachel next year and my Dad… oh my god... he's not going to take this well. At all."

"It's true," Rachel said. "They are very co-dependent," she told the reapers. "But Kurt, look at it this way. At least we'll still get to move in together."

"Somehow, that fails to sweeten the deal."

"Wait…" Mike asked as he realized they were all walking towards "Where are you taking us?"

"You'll see," he replied.

"Way to be Captain Cryptic," Artie said. "You know…this really blows. I'm dead and I'm still stuck in this wheelchair. I knew I'd be in this chair for all eternity. I just didn't think it'd be…for…you know…all eternity.

"What the fuck happened to respecting your elders?" the old man retorted. "We're here to take you where you're supposed to go. You've got to get there somehow, right?"

"Artie, you know Mr. Schue said we're not supposed to go off with strangers," Brittany pointed out.

"Britt," Quinn said, unable to take her eyes off of the bright lights that had appeared in the park, shining over everything like morning fog. "I don't think Mr. Schue would… is that Heaven?"

"Don't know," Rube replied. "But I get the impression it's not a bad place."

A loud bass vibrated like thunder somewhere in the distance in the direction of the lights, and Kurt could've sworn he could hear the opening strains of… .

"I kind of thought we'd have choirs of angels," Sam said. "Not…uh, Queen."

"We'd like to bring a friend out here with us…" voice that sounded like it might've been in the background on the phone, the soft thud of booming bass. "Give it up for Artie Abrams!"

Brittany got down in front of Artie and hugged him around his neck.

"See you on the flip-side, Brittany," he whispered, and wheeled into the blinding blue light until he, and the light, were both gone.

Then as soon as the blue lights disappeared, another one formed. This time, swelling music and a booming voice announcing: "And the winner for Best Actress in a Revival Cast for the role of Elphaba in Wicked is…Rachel Berry!"

For Sam, it was a crowd roaring as he was announced the winner of the Heisman Trophy.

For Mike, it was the sound of a Michael Jackson number.

For Quinn, it was Figgins announcing that she'd been crowned Prom Queen.

Kurt didn't have to wonder what his lights were. He knew what he wanted the most.

He wanted to see his dad again. He wanted to find out what life had to offer him outside of Lima. He wanted to grow old with Blaine.

He stood there as he wondered what his lights would be, if they would be a Tony Awards acceptance or something else.

"So...I'm next?" Kurt asked, turning to the man who called himself Rube.

"Where's Roxy?" George asked.

"You don't think…" Mason asked, glancing from Kurt to Rube and then back to Kurt.

"Fucking hell," George swore as her eyes widened with alarm when she realized what had happened.

"What?" Kurt demanded. "Feel free to fill me in any time now."

"You seem like a bright young man," the old man called Rube said. "What do you think?"

"I'm dead," Kurt answered. "Like everyone else who came with us, they all died too. But then…those light things came down for everyone else. What about my turn? Is it my turn now?"

Rube shook his head.

"Come with us," Rube said. "There's something you oughtta see. Might make things a little clearer."