Sam Evans might not have understood what the hell was wrong with this town, but he knew something was.

Paranoid delusions about Hellmouths infiltrated his mind and, for a brief moment, he considered staking out the school library first thing Monday morning, hoping to come across Buffy.

Or Xander.

Yeah, definitely Xander.

He sighed. He really watched too much television. If watching too much Buffy could ever really be considered a bad thing, which he didn't believe was possible.

He nervously glanced over his shoulder and saw nothing, but nevertheless quickened his pace. His stupid car had broken down eight blocks back and every storefront he passed was locked up tighter than a drum, despite the fact it was only six in the evening. He had almost burst into tears when the one auto shop he had passed, Hummel's, was dark.

Night had also fallen, despite that daylight savings time wasn't due to end for another month, and he didn't like it. It was also cold, unnaturally so, which he thought was pretty odd for September, even in Ohio. He could see his breath fogging out before him and he tried to blow rings, which sadly didn't work.

"You really are a dork, Sam," he muttered.

He forced himself to take a deep breath and then slowly release it, determined to get his nerves under control. He was sure he was being ridiculous, just worried about starting over in a new town and school. Stevie and Stacy thought it was all some great adventure, but Sam missed his friends and extended family.

School was okay so far, though he had only been attending for a week. The classes were good enough and there was a football team, but the whole place reeked of every possible stereotype ever created, like The Breakfast Club had mated with Daria and spawned William McKinley High. He'd begun some tentative friendships, like the one with Finn Hudson, and he'd joined the glee club, though he'd yet to sing outside of his audition. He wasn't sure that anyone other than Finn and his girlfriend was actually allowed to sing.

Stamping his resentment down, he glanced around and realized he only had four more blocks to go. He was going to be just fine, he knew, knowing he had a tendency to blow, well, everything out of proportion.

He shook his head and quickly crossed the street, hanging a left at the end of the block, only to walk straight into a...

"Oh, my god," he whispered, eyes wide and gagging on the stench of death and decay now assaulting him.

What the hell were fucking Dementors doing in Lima, Ohio?

He thrust his hand in his pocket and clumsily fumbled for his wand. Just as he grasped it, the closest Dementor shot forward and grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket. Startled, his wand slid from his grasp.

"Shit!"

The Dementor hauled him a good five feet off the ground as Sam desperately fought to free himself. The grip was too strong, however, and no matter how he flailed, he was unable to wiggle his way out of it, not even enough to slip out of the jacket, which was now coated with a thin layer of ice.

The creature's hood began slipping away and a terrifying mouth edged toward him, and Sam was helpless but to start sobbing. He didn't want to die this way, his soul sucked out and his body rendered a useless shell at which Death laughed but never claimed.

Everything began to slow down and his life literally flashed before his eyes. How absurd. How cliché. He would never see his parents again. He would never tease Stacy again. He would never give Stevie another piggy-back ride.

How the hell had not sensed that Dementors were near? He wasn't stupid. He was more than magically average. How could he have dropped his fucking wand?

He gasped as a white light began slowly trickling from his mouth and devoured by his murderer.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Suddenly an enormous silver seahorse wedged itself between Sam and the Dementor, which screamed. Sam screamed as well, as he was abruptly dropped to the sidewalk, collapsing under his own weight.

"I'm still surprised it's not a dolphin," a laughing voice tittered.

"Now's not the time, sweetie," was the reply.

Sam then felt hands under his arms before he was dragged toward the nearest lawn.

"Here," the first voice said, pressing a huge bar of chocolate into his hand. "It will help."

Nodding weakly, Sam tore into the candy and shoved it into his mouth, immediately feeling the effects. He blinked heavily and looked up at his rescuer. His eyes widened. "Quinn?"

"Hi, Sam," she said gently. "Don't worry. It'll be over in a minute."

He blinked again, this time in confusion. What the hell was Quinn Hummel doing here? He barely knew her, had only been introduced in passing during his first Glee rehearsal. Was she a witch? Had she cast the Patronus?

"Okay?" the second voice called out.

"We're fine," Quinn replied. "Just finish this."

Sam turned his head as if in a daze and saw Quinn's twin brother, Kurt, fighting off six Dementors.

"They're very strong," Quinn murmured. "They must have not eaten for quite a while."

"We have to help him!" insisted a woozy Sam.

Quinn laughed lightly. "We'd just get in the way. Kurt will be fine, Sam. Just finish your chocolate."

Five seconds later, it was over. Three of the Dementors had fled, screaming into the night, while the other three had disappeared, their ragged cloaks littering the sidewalk and street.

"He killed them," Sam whispered in horrified fascination.

"Kurt's very powerful," Quinn said. "Defense is his best subject and his Patronus is one of the strongest on record."

"Are you okay?" Kurt demanded, rushing over to them and pulling Sam, and then his sister, to their feet.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked.

Kurt gave him a soft smile. "I'm fine, Sam, thank you for asking. I'm just glad we were in time."

"Me too," Sam blurted. "Thank you. Thank you so much." He then realized that he'd yet to release Kurt's hand.

Kurt blushed and averted his eyes. "No worries, but we really should get you to St. Lilith and have you checked out." He swallowed heavily. "That was very, very close, Sam."

Sam nodded slowly, shivering. "I owe you a life debt," he said quietly, eyes down.

Kurt waved it off. "There are no debts between friends."

Sam promptly raised his gaze and stared into Kurt's eyes. "Is that what we are? Are we friends?"

Kurt gnawed on his lip. "I'd like us to be," he finally said, voice shy and unsure.

"Me too," Sam replied, squeezing Kurt's hand more tightly, pleased when the other boy's blush became furious.

Quinn stood next to them, hip cocked, brow raised, and an obnoxious smirk plain on her face. "He shouldn't Apparate this soon, Kurt. Not after that. You'll have to Side-Along him." She grinned. "Not that that will be a problem. You're already holding hands." She leered at them.

Kurt shot her a look. "You're dating Noah. Again."

She grimaced. "He's changed."

Kurt scoffed. "What's changed? His underwear? It's about time."

She beamed. "He doesn't wear underwear."

Kurt shuddered. "That is far too much information. You'd better hope St. Lilith has a Forgetfulness Draught they can immediately prescribe me, or you'll be vanquished before this night is over."

She was unrepentant and unconcerned.

Sam thought this was a good time to interrupt. "We never talked about our duet."

Kurt once again blushed.

Quinn snickered. "How about I Put a Spell on You?"

Kurt snarled at her. "How about Black Magic Woman?"

She laughed at him.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "We should go. Quinn, go on ahead and let them know we're coming."

She nodded seriously and disappeared with a soft crack.

"Hang on tight, Sam," Kurt instructed.

Sam shuffled forward and drew Kurt into a firm yet tender embrace. "How's this?" he murmured.

Kurt laid his head on Sam's shoulder and smiled. "Perfect."

And then they were gone.